"Good. Of course, a Dundee whaler," said Captain Marsham. "That brings to an end all idea of the _Ice Blink_ coming to grief here. But let's see; we may find traces of the poor fellows who were wrecked;" and after a look at the remains of the broken masts, the huge cavern-like hollow ripped in the deck, where tons upon tons of sand were lying as it had been tossed in during storms, he led the way aft to the cabin; but there was little to see there. The windows had been battered in by the stones and pieces of rock hurled at them by the waves; but two of the dead-lights, which had been evidently closed during the storm in which the vessel was wrecked, were still held in their places. As for the cabin itself, the contents had been torn and beaten away through a huge gap on one side of the rudder, which reached upward to the deck, and nothing remained of locker or berth that could give any trace of the crew. From here they went forward to the forecastle, the hatch of which gaped widely open; and as they stood below it at the bottom of the sloping deck, Steve felt a strange sensation of shrinking, and as if he would prefer to leave any secrets which the cabin might hide in peace. Captain Marsham felt, too, something of the kind, and he said a few words in a low voice to the doctor. "Yes," replied the latter, "perhaps so, poor fellows; but we ought to see." That was enough to suggest to Steve the possibility of the remains of the crew being below, just as they had died of cold, perhaps of starvation. The desire to leave the deck increased, but he tried to brace himself together, and listened as the doctor said: "Shall I go?" "No," replied the captain; and taking hold of the hatch he drew himself up to it and peered down; then handing his gun to Steve, he lowered himself down feet first and disappeared, while the rest stood watching the square opening and listening intently. "Rather dark," came up from the forecastle, and they heard the sharp scratching sound made by the striking of a match. "No one here. Plenty of sand drifted right in." Another match was struck, and then, after the short period one of the little tapers would take to burn out, the captain's hands appeared and he climbed out. "Nothing whatever," he said. "No trace of a soul, and everything has been cleared out; not so much as a blanket left." "That looks as if the crew must have stripped the vessel, and built themselves a place somewhere inland." "Or on the shore," said the captain. "No; I fancy that this vessel was forsaken long ago. Her crew must have taken to the boats, and let us hope that they all escaped across to Hammerfest, or some other port." "Will you search any further?" asked Steve. "There is nothing to search for here, my boy," replied the captain; "but we will have a tramp forward, and see if any traces have been left of hut or signal-post, though I feel certain that no one is here."