LITMIR.BIZ

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don’t hide from you,” continued Johnson, “that the cruise will be long, painful, and perilous; that is formally stated in our instructions, and you ought to know what you undertake; you will very likely be required to attempt all that it is possible for human beings to do, and perhaps more. If you are the least bit frightened, if you don’t think you may just as well finish yonder as here, you’d better not enlist, but give way to a bolder man.”

      “But, Mr. Johnson,” continued the sailor, for the want of something better to say, “at least you know the captain?”

      “The captain is Richard Shandon till another comes.”

      Richard Shandon, in his secret heart, hoped that the command would remain with him, and that at the last moment he should receive precise instructions as to the destination of the Forward. He did all he could to spread the report in his conversations with his officers, or when following the construction of the brig as it grew in the Birkenhead dockyard, looking like the ribs of a whale turned upside down. Shandon and Johnson kept strictly to their instructions touching the health of the sailors who were to form the crew; they all looked hale and hearty, and had enough heat in their bodies to suffice for the engine of the Forward; their supple limbs, their clear and florid complexions were fit to react against the action of intense cold. They were confident and resolute men, energetically and solidly constituted. Of course they were not all equally vigorous; Shandon had even hesitated about taking some of them, such as the sailors Gripper and Garry, and the harpooner Simpson, because they looked rather thin; but, on the whole, their build was good; they were a warm-hearted lot, and their engagement was signed.

      All the crew belonged to the same sect of the Protestant religion; during these long campaigns prayer in common and the reading of the Bible have a good influence over the men and sustain them in the hour of discouragement; it was therefore important that they should be all of the same way of thinking. Shandon knew by experience the utility of these practices, and their influence on the mind of the crew; they are always employed on board ships that are intended to winter in the Polar Seas. The crew once got together, Shandon and his two officers set about the provisions; they strictly followed the instructions of the captain; these instructions were clear, precise, and detailed, and the least articles were put down with their quality and quantity. Thanks to the cheques at the commander’s disposition, every article was paid for at once with a discount of 8 per cent, which Richard carefully placed to the credit of K. Z.

      Crew, provisions, and cargo were ready by January, 1860; the Forward began to look shipshape, and Shandon went daily to Birkenhead. On the morning of the 23rd of January he was, as usual, on board one of the Mersey ferryboats with a helm at either end to prevent having to turn it; there was a thick fog, and the sailors of the river were obliged to direct their course by means of the compass, though the passage lasts scarcely ten minutes. But the thickness of the fog did not prevent Shandon seeing a man of short stature, rather fat, with an intelligent and merry face and an amiable look, who came up to him, took him by the two hands, and shook them with an ardour, a petulance, and a familiarity “quite meridional,” as a Frenchman would have said. But if this person did not come from the South, he had got his temperament there; he talked and gesticulated with volubility; his thought must come out or the machine would burst. His eyes, small as those of witty men generally are, his mouth, large and mobile, were safety-pipes which allowed him to give passage to his overflowing thoughts; he talked, and talked, and talked so much and so fast that Shandon couldn’t understand a word he said. However, this did not prevent the Forward’s mate from recognising the little man he had never seen before; a lightning flash traversed his mind, and when the other paused to take breath, Shandon made haste to get out the words, “Doctor Clawbonny!”

      “Himself in person, commander! I’ve been at least half a quarter of an hour looking for you, asking everybody everywhere! Just think how impatient I got; five minutes more and I should have lost my head! And so you are the commander Richard? You really exist? You are not a myth? Your hand, your hand! I want to shake it again. It is Richard Shandon’s hand, and if there is a commander Shandon, there’s a brig Forward to command; and if he commands he will start, and if he starts he’ll take Dr. Clawbonny on board.”

      “Well, yes, doctor, I am Richard Shandon; there is a brig Forward, and it will start.”

      “That’s logic,” answered the doctor, after taking in a large provision of breathing air—“that’s logic. And I am ready to jump for joy at having my dearest wishes gratified. I’ve wanted to undertake such a voyage. Now with you, commander–-“

      “I don’t–-” began Shandon.

      “With you,” continued Clawbonny, without hearing him, “we are sure to go far and not to draw back for a trifle.”

      “But–-” began Shandon again.

      “For you have shown what you are made of, commander; I know your deeds of service. You are a fine sailor!”

      “If you will allow me–-“

      “No, I won’t have your bravery, audacity, and skill put an instant in doubt, even by you! The captain who chose you for his mate is a man who knows what he’s about, I can tell you.”

      “But that’s nothing to do with it,” said Shandon, impatient.

      “What is it, then? Don’t keep me in suspense another minute.”

      “You don’t give me time to speak. Tell me, if you please, doctor, how it comes that you are to take part in the expedition of the Forward.”

      “Read this letter, this worthy letter, the letter of a brave captain—very laconic, but quite sufficient.”

      Saying which the doctor held out the following letter to Shandon:—

      “INVERNESS,

      “Jan. 22nd, 1860.

      “To Dr. Clawbonny.

      “If Dr. Clawbonny wishes to embark on board the Forward for a long cruise, he may introduce himself to the commander, Richard Shandon, who has received orders concerning him.

      “THE CAPTAIN OF THE ‘FORWARD,’

      “K. Z.”

      “This letter reached me this morning, and here I am, ready to embark.”

      “But, doctor, do you know where we are going to?”

      “I haven’t the slightest idea, and I do not care so that it is somewhere. They pretend that I am learned; they are mistaken, commander. I know nothing, and if I have published a few books that don’t sell badly, I ought not to have done it; the public is silly for buying them. I know nothing, I tell you. I am only an ignorant man. When I have the offer of completing, or rather of going over again, my knowledge of medicine, surgery, history, geography, botany, mineralogy, conchology, geodesy, chemistry, natural philosophy, mechanics, and hydrography, why I accept, of course.”

      “Then,” said Shandon, disappointed, “you do not know where the Forward is bound for?”

      “Yes, I do; it is bound for where there is something to learn, to discover, and to compare—where we shall meet with other customs, other countries, other nations, to study in the exercise of their functions; it is going, in short, where I have never been.”

      “But I want to know something more definite than that,” cried Shandon.

      “Well, I have heard that we are bound for the Northern Seas.”

      “At least,” asked Shandon, “you know the captain?”

      “Not the least bit in the world! But he is an honest fellow, you may believe me.”

      The commander and the doctor disembarked at Birkenhead; the former told the doctor all he knew about the situation of things, and the mystery inflamed the imagination of the doctor. The sight of the brig caused him transports of joy. From that day he stopped with Shandon, and went every

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