"Yes."
"Exactly?"
"Yes."
For a minute or so nothing more was said, and the onlookers waited with palpitating hearts.
Then Hatteras spoke again and said:
"Listen to me. We must know the exact position of your vessel. I will count the degrees aloud, and you will stop me when I come to the right one."
The American assented by a motion of the head, and Hatteras began:
"We'll take the longitude first. 105o, No? 106o, 107o? It is to the west, I suppose?"
"Yes," replied Altamont.
"Let us go on, then: 109o, 110o, 112o, 114o, 116o, 118o, 120o."
"Yes," interrupted the sick man.
"120o of longitude, and how many minutes? I will count."
Hatteras began at number one, and when he got to fifteen, Altamont made a sign to stop.
"Very good," said Hatteras; "now for the latitude. Are you listening? 80o, 81o, 82o, 83o."
Again the sign to stop was made.
“Now for the minutes: 5', 10', 15', 20', 25', 30', 35'."
Altamont stopped him once more, and smiled feebly.
"You say, then, that the Porpoise is in longitude 120o 15', and latitude 83o 35'?"
“Yes," sighed the American, and fell back motionless in the Doctor's arms, completely overpowered by the effort he had made.
"Friends!" exclaimed Hatteras; "you see I was right. Our salvation lies indeed in the north, always in the north. We shall be saved!"
But the joyous, exulting words had hardly escaped his lips before a sudden thought made his countenance change. The serpent of jealousy had stung him, for this stranger was an American, and he had reached three degrees nearer the Pole than the ill-fated Forward.
