The Polar circle was cleared at last. On the 30th of April, at midday, the Forward passed abreast of Holsteinborg; picturesque mountains rose up on the eastern horizon. The sea appeared almost free from icebergs, and the few there were could easily be avoided. The wind veered round to the south-east, and the brig, under her mizensail, brigantine, topsails, and her topgallant sail, sailed up Baffin’s Sea. It had been a particularly calm day, and the crew were able to take a little rest. Numerous birds were swimming and fluttering about round the vessel; amongst others, the doctor observed some alca-alla, very much like the teal, with black neck, wings and back, and white breast; they plunged with vivacity, and their immersion often lasted forty seconds.

The day would not have been remarkable if the following fact, however extraordinary it may appear, had not occurred on board. At six o’clock in the morning Richard Shandon, re-entering his cabin after having been relieved, found upon the table a letter with this address:

“To the Commander,

“RICHARD SHANDON,

“On board the ‘Forward,’

“Baffin’s Sea.”

Shandon could not believe his own eyes, and before reading such a strange epistle he caused the doctor, James Wall and Johnson to be called, and showed them the letter.

“That grows very strange,” said Johnson.

“It’s delightful!” thought the doctor.

“At last,” cried Shandon, “we shall know the secret.”

With a quick hand he tore the envelope and read as follows:

“COMMANDER,— The captain of the Forward is pleased with the coolness, skill, and courage that your men, your officers, and yourself have shown on the late occasions, and begs you to give evidence of his gratitude to the crew.

“Have the goodness to take a northerly direction towards Melville Bay, and from thence try and penetrate into Smith’s Straits.

“The Captain OF The Forward,

“K. Z.

“Monday, April 30th,

“Abreast of Cape Walsingham.”

“Is that all?” cried the doctor.

“That’s all,” replied Shandon, and the letter fell from his hands.

“Well,” said Wall, “this chimerical captain doesn’t even mention coming on board, so I conclude that he never will come.”

“But how did this letter get here?” said Johnson.

Shandon was silent.

“Mr. Wall is right,” replied the doctor, after picking up the letter and turning it over in every direction; “the captain won’t come on board for an excellent reason ——”

“And what’s that?” asked Shandon quickly.

“Because he is here already,” replied the doctor simply.

“Already!” said Shandon. “What do you mean?”

“How do you explain the arrival of this letter if such is not the case?”

Johnson nodded his head in sign of approbation.

“It is not possible!” said Shandon energetically. “I know every man of the crew. We should have to believe, in that case, that the captain has been with us ever since we set sail. It is not possible, I tell you. There isn’t one of them that I haven’t seen for more than two years in Liverpool; doctor, your supposition is inadmissible.”

“Then what do you admit, Shandon?”

“Everything but that! I admit that the captain, or one of his men, has profited by the darkness, the fog, or anything you like, in order to slip on board; we are not very far from land; there are Esquimaux kayaks that pass unperceived between the icebergs; someone may have come on board and left the letter; the fog was intense enough to favour their design.”

“And to hinder them from seeing the brig,” replied the doctor; “if we were not able to perceive an intruder slip on board, how could he have discovered the Forward in the midst of a fog?”

“That is evident,” exclaimed Johnson.

“I come back, then,” said the doctor, “to my first hypothesis. What do you think about it, Shandon?”

“I think what you please,” replied Shandon fiercely, “with the exception of supposing that this man is on board my vessel.”

“Perhaps,” added Wall, “there may be amongst the crew a man of his who has received instructions from him.”

“That’s very likely,” added the doctor.

“But which man?” asked Shandon. “I tell you I have known all my men a long time.”

“Anyhow,” replied Johnson, “if this captain shows himself, let him be man or devil, we’ll receive him; but we have another piece of information to draw from this letter.”

“What’s that?” asked Shandon.

“Why, that we are to direct our path not only towards Melville Bay, but again into Smith’s Straits.”

“You are right,” answered the doctor.

“Smith’s Straits?” echoed Shandon mechanically.

“It is evident,” replied Johnson, “that the destination of the Forward is not to seek a North–West passage, as we shall leave to our left the only track that leads to it — that is to say, Lancaster Straits; that’s what forebodes us difficult navigation in unknown seas.”

“Yes, Smith’s Straits,” replied Shandon, “that’s the route the American Kane followed in 1853, and at the price of what dangers! For a long time he was thought to be lost in those dreadful latitudes! However, as we must go, go we must. But where? how far? To the Pole?”

“And why not?” cried the doctor.

The idea of such an insane attempt made the boatswain shrug his shoulders.

“After all,” resumed James Wall, “to come back to the captain, if he exists, I see nowhere on the coast of Greenland except Disko o............