"True, boatswain; this is the first time in the course of my travels that I have been in so high a latitude." "And you should have been rewarded by a baptism, Mr. Jeorling. Yes, indeed, but without any big fuss--no drum and trumpet about it, and leaving out old Father Neptune with his masquerade. If you would permit me to baptize you--" "So be it, Hurliguerly," said I, putting my hand into my pocket. "Baptize as you please. Here is something to drink my health with at the nearest tavern." "Then that will be Bennet Islet or Tsalal Island, provided there are any taverns in those savage islands, and any Atkinses to keep them." "Tell me, boatswain--I always get back to Hunt--does he seem so much pleased to have passed the Polar Circle as the _Halbrane's_ old sailors are?" "Who knows? There's nothing to be got out of him one way or another. But, as I have said before, if he has not already made acquaintance with the ice-barrier." "What makes you think so?" "Everything and nothing, Mr. Jeorling. One feels these things; one doesn't think them. Hunt is an old sea-dog, who has carried his canvas bag into every corner of the world." The boatswain's opinion was mine also, and some inexplicable presentiment made me observe Hunt constantly, for he occupied a large share of my thoughts. Early in December the wind showed a north-west tendency, and that was not good for us, but we would have no serious right to complain so long as it did not blow due south-west. In the latter case the schooner would have been thrown out of her course, or at least she would have had a struggle to keep in it, and it was better for us, in short, not to stray from the meridian which we had followed since our departure from the New South Orkneys. Captain Len Guy was made anxious by this alteration in the wind, and besides, the speed of the _Halbrane_ was manifestly lessened, for the breeze began to soften on the 4th, and in the middle of the night it died away. In the morning the sails hung motionless and shrivelled along the masts. Although not a breath reached us, and the surface of the ocean was unruffled, the schooner was rocked from side to side by the long oscillations of the swell coming from the west. "The sea feels something," said Captain Len Guy to me, "and there must be rough weather on that side," he added, pointing westward. "The horizon is misty," I replied; "but perhaps the sun towards noon--" "The sun has no strength in this latitude, Mr. Jeorling, not even in summer. Jem!" West came up to us. "What do you think of the sky?" "I do not think well of it. We must be ready for anything and everything, captain." "Has not the look-out given warning of the first drifting ice?" I asked. "Yes," replied Captain Len Guy, "and if we get near the icebergs the damage will not be to them. Therefore, if prudence demands that we should go either to the east or to the west, we shall resign ourselves, but only in case of absolute necessity."