"Why, that same emblem hung on the uniform of the dead man in the deckhouse!" he exclaimed. "So it did," cried the ensign. "Boys, from the looks of it, this was the cabin of the master of the ship, and yonder body, it is my firm belief, is his." But Merritt had stumbled upon another discovery. This was nothing more than a large book, bound in leather. But to the ensign it seemed to be apparently a highly important find. "It's the ship's log-book," he exclaimed, pointing to the embossed words on the cover. "Now perhaps we may light on a partial solution of this mystery." He opened the book at the first page, and learned from the crabbed writing with which it was covered, that the _Good Hope_, Ezekial T. Daniels, master, had set sail from New Bedford for the South Pacific whaling ground in April, 1879. "Gracious, that was about thirty-three years ago," stammered Merritt. "I have heard of derelicts that drifted longer than that," said the naval officer calmly. He began turning over the leaves of the log book. It was an epic of the sea. Every incident that had befallen the _Good Hope_ on her long voyage was faithfully set down. He skimmed through the records, reading the most interesting bits of information out aloud for the benefit of his youthful companions. From the log book it was learned that the _Good Hope_ had met with indifferent luck on her long three years' cruise, but had suddenly run into a most extraordinary bit of good fortune. "Listen to this, boys," exclaimed the ensign with what, for one of his self-contained nature, was strong excitement, "it reads like a bit of wild romance." Without further preface he began reading: "'May, 1883--This day encountered the strangest thing in all my experience. As set down, we have drifted into the Antarctic ice pack. This day sighted a berg within which was a dark, shadowy object. On going in the ship boats to investigate we saw to our amazement that the said object was a ship. The ice surrounding it was thin, mostly having melted. "'From what I knew of such craft I decided, incredible as the idea might seem, that the craft within the berg was a long frozen up Viking ship. Not knowing just what her recovery might mean, I undertook to blast her free of her prison. We had plenty of dynamite on board for the very purpose of ice-blasting. By three of this p. m. we had the ship blasted open. I and my officers at once entered the hole the explosive had made in the craft's side. We expected to find strange things, but none of us was prepared for what followed. The hold of the imprisoned ship was full of ivory. "'My first officer, William Clydesdale, an Englishman, and a college man before strong drink ruined him, pronounced the ivory to be that of the tusks of the extinct mammoths which scientists say formerly inhabited these regions.'" "Phew! This is romance with a vengeance!" exclaimed Rob. "Did they get the ivory?" asked the practical Paul Perkins.