“Can’t make it out, sir,” replied the lookout; “it might be a seal, then again it might be a man.”
There was much interest at once. Several other vessels were cruising in the Arctic, and they had occasionally sighted one at a distance, though there had been chance for a meeting and a “gam” but once. They knew that the other ships were already to the southward on their way out. Perhaps this was a man from one of them, gone adrift on the ice, and having-but one chance in a thousand for rescue. Captain Nickerson was not called, as he had just gone below after a long siege on deck, but Mr. Jones took the responsibility of changing the vessel’s course slightly, and they approached the figure on the ice. It was difficult to make it out. All hands on deck saw it,—a motionless huddle on a cake of ice, driving before the wind in the dreary polar sea.
By and by the ship was as near as it could well get, a heavy floe crowding in between it and the open lead in which the cake floated. Still it was difficult to decide just what the figure was, but Mr. Jones finally said: “Humph! Dead seal,” and changed the vessel’s course again.
Harry and Joe looked at each other. They also had been carefully examining the object through the glass, and each thought it might be a man, fur-clad and lying in a heap, dead or exhausted.
“I don’t care,” said Joe; “I’m going to speak to father, if he is tired out. We don’t want to take chances of passing any one that way.”
He hastened below with Harry at his heels, both with hearts swelling with indignation. They knew that Mr. Jones was probably right in his guess, but the thought of the possibility of a fellow creature floating thus into the desolate Arctic winter filled them with pity and a great desire to leave nothing to chance.
Captain Nickerson listened to their story with attention, and so eager and excited were they that he finally gave them permission to have Mr. Jones stop the ship long enough for them to man the dingey and investigate.
“Can you make it with the dingey?” he asked.