Part 32 (1/2)

”'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy'.

Another day and another voyage will be needed for the balloon adventures.

”Well,” he added, more cheerily, ”our cruise has not been in vain, you know. I have taken many meteorological observations. We have scaled the heights of mighty Mount Terror, and we have proved that Right whales do abound in these seas; so that we have really re-opened a long-lost industry.”

”We sailed in search of fortune,” said Frank; ”we have got some, haven't we, sir?”

”If we manage to get clear of this somewhat dangerous pack and to reach Kerguelen Island, I think we'll lay in enough sea-elephant skins and blubber to make up a rich and splendid cargo.

”But,” he added, looking towards the monster icebergs, ”I do wish these fellows were farther off.”

”I suppose we couldn't blow them up, could we?” said innocent Conal.

Talbot laughed.

”My dear boy,” he answered, ”if we could blow these blocks up, we might try our skill on the rock of Gibraltar next.”

Although the autumn was already far advanced and dreary winter on ahead, still Talbot did not despair of getting clear before it came on.

This forenoon all hands were set at work to clear the ice from under the bows.

Hard work indeed, but it was finished eventually with the aid of good gunpowder. Small cases of this were placed under the packs of pancake by means of a long pole, and fired with waterproof fuses. The smashed-up pieces were thrust in under the main pack, and so in time the _Flora M'Vayne_ found herself on an even keel.

The officers and crew could breathe more freely now, and sat down to dinner with that hearty appet.i.te which hard work, if interesting, never fails to call up.

A whole month pa.s.sed away.

There was no change, and seldom even a breath of wind, but the nights were now very long indeed, and soon, very soon, it would be all night.

Another month went slowly by.

It was now far on in May, and June in these lat.i.tudes means the dead depth of winter.

”There isn't the ghost of a chance, Morgan,” said Talbot one morning while breakfasting by lamp-light; ”there isn't the slightest chance of our getting clear away from here, till spring winds break up the ice and carry us north and away.”

Morgan did not answer directly.

He was thinking.

”How about provisions, sir?” he asked at last.

”Well, we ought to have enough of every sort to last for a year, and by that time, please Heaven, we shall be safe in Cape Town harbour.

”But,” he added, ”I was going to talk to you on this very subject.”

”Well, sir.”

”Well, mate, I think it would be as well to take an inventory. Have a thorough overhaul, you know, and see what condition everything is in.”

The motion was carried.