"No," said the mate, smiling as he gave a look round, shading his eyes with his hand; "I don't see it sticking up out of the snow. We're not anywhere near the North Pole, but I can give a pretty shrewd guess as to where we are." "Can you?" "We've been driven right through the opened-up ice somewhere a long way east and north of Spitzbergen. I should say about where land was sighted in one of the expeditions up beyond Gillis Land, toward where the Austrians saw a coast which they called Franz Josef." "Ah!" "I don't say that's it; but we're somewhere thereabouts, and--" He stopped short to use his glass for a few minutes, Steve watching him impatiently. "Yes," he said at last, "there's land yonder." "Where? amongst that ice?" "Yes; look," said the mate, handing the glass; "right in the nor'-east yonder. There's land miles away. Quite mountainous. See it?" "I can see a glittering pyramid of ice; yes, and a big, heavy mass beside it." "That's right; that's it." "But it's ice and snow, not land." "The land's under it, my lad," said the mate. "The ice and snow don't pile up like that without something to stand on. The captain ought to know this; but he's so done up I wouldn't wake him. He could do no good if he came on deck." "Then shall you make for that land?" "Yes; there's nothing else to be done. We must go forward now, as there's open water. All astern is ice, where we should certainly be nipped. That's safety for us if we can steam there, for we should be sure to find some cove or fiord, and shelter from the pressure of the ice." "But suppose we should get into a fiord, and the ice blocked us in, what then?" said Steve, more anxiously. "Why, then we should have to wait till it opened again and let us out." "But it might be a long time." "Perhaps so; but that's better than getting our ship crushed, eh?" "Of course," said Steve; and soon after he went down to talk to the Norsemen forward, the momentary depression at the idea of being shut in having passed away. There was a low, whimpering muttering as he neared the galley, the door of which was ajar, and he heard the cook say angrily: "Look here, sir, if you don't stop that snivelling, I'll stand you outside to let the tears freeze. I'm not going to have you turning on the rain here. Do you want to put my fire out?" "Aw canna help it," said Watty piteously. "Aw was thenking aboot my mither." "Thinking about your `mither,' you great calf! Well, other people think about their `mithers,' but they don't go on blubbering when they've got some potatoes to wash. Hullo! Tut, tut, tut! They'll have to go overboard. Here, take these from close by the stove. Those others are frozen." "She never meant me to come oop here in the cauld to be starved to death." "What?" cried the cook. "Eh? Oh, it's you, Mr Steve. How are you, sir? Managed to get you a good breakfast this morning." "Yes, thank you. It was grand. What's the matter with Watty Links?"