"If the crew only suspected that———"
"I beg you say nothing to them whatever on the subject. They will soon make their own remarks. Moreover, we could not do better meantime than continue our present course. Perhaps, after all, what Hatteras thinks going north may prove going back. McClintock Channel opens into Melville Bay, but that succession of straits that leads to Baffin's Bay, begins there too; Hatteras had better take care! The road to the east is easier than that to the north."
Shandon's words revealed his secret sentiments. No wonder Hatteras felt he was a traitor.
As far as the crew went, however, his opinion of them was quite right. Their contentment was entirely owing to the prospect of soon reaching the 72nd parallel. The love of money had taken complete possession of them, and Clifton had calculated accurately the sum that would fall to each. There were sixteen men altogether on board, not counting the captain and the Doctor, who, of course, were not to share in the prize. The amount promised was £1,000; that gave £62 10s to each individual. Should they ever reach the Pole, the eighteen degrees more would enrich them still further with a sum of £1,125—quite a fortune. This would cost the captain £18,000, but he was rich enough to be able to pay it.
On the 16th of June the Forward coasted past Cape Aworth. The white peaks of Mount Rawlinson seemed to pierce the very heavens, the snow and fog making its height appear colossal. The temperature was still some degrees above freezing point. Cascades and cataracts were rushing down the sides of the mountains, and the loud noise of falling avalanches struck upon the ear like the continuous discharge of heavy artillery, reverberating over the glaciers for an immense distance. It was a splendid spectacle, and the ship hugged the coast so closely that objects were distinctly visible. Rare heaths were discovered growing on sheltered rocks, with their pink flowers timidly peeping above the snow. A few miserable looking lichens of a reddish color were also seen, and a dwarf willow, which crept along the ground.
At last, on the 19th of June, the 72nd parallel was crossed, and the brig entered Melville Bay—the "Silver Bay," as Bolton christened it. On the 25th, in spite of a strong
