The body of the footman was laid upon the quay and covered with a sheet. Only when these matters were attended to would the American satisfy the curiosity of his friends as to the manner in which he had managed to turn the tables upon the boat-stealers. “Where’s your watchman?” he asked, after dismissing the subject in half a dozen pithy sentences. “You’ve locked him up,” Garth returned; “it was the fellow who steered you in. He must have been heavily bribed by the plotters. Had Wilson been here, this would not have happened, for he has been guarding the boat himself at night.” “Where’s he gone?” asked the doctor. “Down home,” was the reply, “to say good-bye to his people. We thought of starting at midnight to-morrow, but, of course, this job”--pointing to the corpse of the footman--“will delay us for several days. There will have to be an inquest, and no end of fuss before we can get away.” “I wish I were coming with you,” Oswyn said impulsively. “I wish you were, old chap,” Garth agreed; “but I suppose it’s impossible?” “Utterly,” replied the doctor; “the practice would go to beggary were I away for a month or two, just now. All the same, you have my best wishes for the success of your trip. May you return safe and sound!” “Thanks, old man; I sincerely hope we shall.” Moving to the winch, Garth closed the gates of the dock; then, leaving the Yankee, at his own request, on guard, the rest of the party adjourned to the house to finish their interrupted meal, and to seek a much-needed rest. As they went, the inventor pondered over an idea of Haverly’s. “Say, Garth,” the millionaire had remarked, as the party passed out of the yard, “if you’re wanting a name for your boat, I guess you might do worse than call it the _Seal._” “_Seal_ it shall be,” Garth muttered to himself, and so it was. CHAPTER III. BEYOND THE GREAT BARRIER. THE _Seal_ sped swiftly over the rolling waves of the northern seas, her whole hull vibrating with the throb of her powerful engines. Her inventor, a huge cigar between his lips, lounged over the rail which surrounded the vessel’s deck, scarce seeming to feel the bite of the keen wind as he gazed dreamily into the distance. At the wheel, his wiry hands holding the polished spokes in an iron grip, stood the American, his watchful eye fixed upon the masses of ice which rolled and wallowed around the vessel. The explorers had been glad to don their heaviest furs, but found even the thickest of them poor enough protection against the icy breath of the Frost King; yet they were occasionally obliged to have the turret door open, despite the cold, when the renewal of the air supply became a necessity. Two months had passed since the events recorded in our last chapter; the first part of the voyage had been almost completed, and the _Seal_ was rapidly nearing the great barrier, beneath which she was to dive to the North Pole.