mined at the base, and the moment comes when their center of gravity is displaced, and down they go. If this had happened, however, but two minutes later, it would have fallen on the ship and crushed her to atoms."
CHAPTER IX
A LETTER
The Polar circle was entered at last. The Forward passed Holsteinberg at twelve o'clock on the 30th of April. Picturesque mountain scenery appeared on the eastern horizon, and the sea was open and free from icebergs, or rather any icebergs that were visible could easily be avoided. The wind was in the S. E., and bore along the brig in full sail up Baffin's Bay.
The day would have passed unmarked by any unusual incident but for the following occurrence, which, strange as it may appear, actually took place. At six in the morning, when Richard Shandon's watch was over, and he came back to his cabin, he found a letter lying on his table directed thus:
"To the chief officer, Richard Shandon,
"On board the Forward,
"Baffin's Bay."
Shandon could not believe his own eyes, and would not even take the letter in his hands till he had called the Doctor and James Wall and the boatswain to look at it.
"It is certainly very strange," said Johnson.
"I think it is charming!" exclaimed the Doctor.
"At any rate," replied Shandon, "we shall know the secret now, I suppose."
He tore open the envelope hastily and read as follows:
"The captain of the Forward is pleased with the coolness, skill, and courage displayed in recent trying circumstances by the crew and officers, and yourself. He begs you to convey his thanks to the men.
"You will please direct your course north to Melville Bay, and from thence attempt to make Smith's Sound.
"The Captain of the Forward, "K. Z."
"Monday, April 30th, off Cape Walsingham."
