"You are ready for anything, doctor; but if so, to what quarter of the globe should you set sail?" "To the North Pole, of course; there's not the slightest doubt about that." "Why should it not be the South Pole?" asked Wall. "The South Pole is out of the question. No one with any sense would send a brig across the whole of the Atlantic. Just reflect a minute, and you'll see the impossibility." "The doctor has an answer to everything," said Wall. "Well, we'll say north," continued Shandon. "But where north? To Spitzbergen or Greenland? Labrador or Hudson's Bay? Although all directions end in insuperable icebergs, I am not less puzzled as to which to take. Have you an answer to that, doctor?" "No," he answered, vexed at having nothing to say; "but if you don't get a letter what shall you do?" "I shall do nothing; I shall wait." "Do you mean to say you won't start?" cried Dr. Clawbonny, agitating his glass in despair. "Certainly I do." "And that would be the wisest plan," said Johnson tranquilly, while the doctor began marching round the table, for he could not keep still; "but still, if we wait too long, the consequences may be deplorable; the season is good now if we are really going north, as we ought to profit by the breaking up of the ice to cross Davis's Straits; besides, the crew gets more and more uneasy; the friends and companions of our men do all they can to persuade them to leave the _Forward_, and their influence may be pernicious for us." "Besides," added Wall, "if one of them deserted they all would, and then I don't know how you would get another crew together." "But what can I do?" cried Shandon. "What you said you would do," replied the doctor; "wait and wait till to-morrow before you despair. The captain's promises have all been fulfilled up to now with the greatest regularity, and there's no reason to believe we shan't be made acquainted with our destination when the proper time comes. I haven't the slightest doubt that to-morrow we shall be sailing in the Irish Channel, and I propose we drink a last grog to our pleasant voyage. It begins in an unaccountable fashion, but with sailors like you there are a thousand chances that it will end well." And all four drank to their safe return. "Now, commander," continued Johnson, "if you will allow me to advise you, you will prepare everything to start; the crew must think that you know what you are about. If you don't get a letter to-morrow, set sail; do not get up the steam, the wind looks like holding out, and it will be easy enough to sail; let the pilot come on board; go out of the docks with the tide, and anchor below Birkenhead; our men won't be able to communicate with land, and if the devil of a letter comes it will find us as easily there as elsewhere." "By heavens! you are right, Johnson!" cried the doctor, holding out his hand to the old sailor. "So be it," answered Shandon.