The boys had already become acquainted with the other members of the party, Dr. John Slade, a quiet but friendly gentleman, who had once spent two years in lower Greenland, and Mr. Samuel Camdal, an old hunter, who had shot with Barwell Dawson in the far West and in Africa. Mr. Camdal could tell some famous stories,--of hunting, and of narrow escapes from wild animals,--and the lads felt that he would make good company during the days when there was not much to do. It was a real pleasure for the lads to put their stateroom in order. Although the room was small, it had a homelike air about it that was pleasing. Neither lad was burdened with excess baggage, so they were not as crowded as they might otherwise have been. The course of the _Ice King_ was to be up the coast of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, and then into Davis Strait, to Baffin Bay. The boys had studied the chart thoroughly, for a sea trip was altogether a novelty to them. "Shall we stop anywhere along the coast of Greenland?" asked Chet, of Barwell Dawson. "Yes, I have arranged to stop at Upernivik, for an extra supply of coal which a collier from the lower coast is to bring up for us." "How long do you suppose we'll be at Upernivik?" "Two or three days at least--perhaps a week." "And can Andy and I go ashore?" "Certainly. But it is only a small settlement, and you won't find much of interest." "I wanted to make inquiries about the _Betsey Andrews_." "Oh, I see. Well, I'll help you, Chet. But don't be too sanguine. You may not hear a word of the whaler." "I want to do all I can to hear from my father." "I don't blame you. I'd be that way myself, if my father were missing." In a few hours the _Ice King_ was out on the broad Atlantic. The long swells made the steamer roll a good deal, and soon the two boys felt this in their legs, and then in their stomachs. Each looked at the other in a woe-begone manner. "What's the matter?" asked Andy. "Nothing," returned Chet, manfully striving to overcome a feeling he could not subdue. "What's the matter with you?" "Nothing much, only--I--I feel sort of crawly inside." "You're seasick, Andy!" "How about yourself?" retorted Andy, and he made a movement toward the side of the steamer. "I guess I--I am--with--you!" gasped Chet, and also ran for the rail. After that, the two chums lost all interest in living for several hours. They felt as miserable as a person with a dose of seasickness can feel. They remained on deck for a while, and then sought the seclusion of their stateroom. Here Dr. Slade came to their assistance. "Two more down, eh?" said the physician, with a little smile. "Well, I'll do what I can to fix you up," and he brought forth his medicine case. "Wh--who else is sick?" asked Andy. In seasickness, "misery loves company" every time. "Mr. Camdal and Ben Haven, the first mate." "The first mate?" queried Chet, between his groans. "Do sailors get sick?"