Gratian was at the helm, ready to give a turn to wheel, whilst his comrades with their hands on the cleats were preparing to ease off the sheets.
Dirk Peters remained immovable, leaning against the fore-mast, his head down, his body bent, and his mouth set firm. Not a word passed his lips.
But now he turned towards me, and what a look of mingled wrath and entreaty he gave me!
I don’t know what irresistible motive induced me to interfere personally, and once again to protest! A final argument had just crossed my mind—an argument whose weight could not be disputed.
So I began to speak, and I did so with such conviction that none tried to interrupt me.
The substance of what I said was as follows:—
“No! all hope must not be abandoned. Land cannot be far off. The icebergs which are formed
