'Suppose the hull should have been thrown upon an iceberg,' I exclaimed, addressing Wall, 'must she inevitably go to pieces?'
'That 'ud depend upon how she took the ice,' he answered.
'If she stranded and lay dry—such things have happened—could the three live in her?'
'Yes, sights more comfortably than if she was afloat.'
'For how long?'
'She was freighted,' said Mr. Hobbs, 'with an abundance of the necessaries of life.'
'How long could a vessel remain on the ice in a habitable state?'
'Years,' answered Wall, 'if she's let alone. Give her a snug berth clear of the wash of the sea and tumbling blocks, and what's to hurt her?'
Mr. Hobbs was staring at me earnestly. 'I could wish to persuade you,' he exclaimed, with a melancholy inclination of his head, 'to discard the notion of the hull finding a berth in an iceberg. Our hope must take a practical form. Let us, then, believe that the wreck has been encountered by one of the many whalers and other vessels which frequent those seas, and that Captain Burke and his companions are at this present moment safe.'
I turned to Wall and plied him with questions. What was the condition of the hull? What had been the state of Miss Otway's health? Did he believe, by recalling her looks when he last saw her, that she had the strength to outlive the horrors, trials, suspense, suffering, of even one week of a dismasted hull, rolling about amidst the ice in dangerous, desolate seas?—the wildest in the world and in their mid-winter? Was Captain Burke, singlehanded, aboard the wreck, as a man, capable of doing anything to help them into safety? If not, why had he stuck to the ship? What madman's nightmare of imagination could have induced him to remain with two women aboard a vessel he could do nothing with?