else. And if he wants to lead us where we don't want to go, we'll let him know what we think about it."
"All right," said Bolton; "Pen doesn't know him, and wants to quarrel with him already."
"Who doesn't know all about him?" asked Clifton, with the air of a man who has the whole story at his tongue's end; "I should like to know who doesn't."
"What do you mean?" asked Gripper.
"I know very well what I mean."
"But we don't."
"Well, Pen has already had trouble with him."
"With the captain?"
"Yes, the dog-captain; for it's the same thing precisely."
The sailors gazed at one another, incapable of replying.
"Dog or man," muttered Pen, between his teeth, "I'll bet he'll get his account settled one of these days."
"Why, Clifton," asked Bolton, seriously, "do you imagine, as Johnson said in joke, that that dog is the real captain?"
"Certainly, I do," answered Clifton, with some warmth; "and if you had watched him as carefully as I have, you'd have noticed his strange ways."
"What ways? Tell us."
"Haven't you noticed the way he walks up and down the poop-deck as if he commanded the ship, keeping his eye on the sails as if he were on watch?"
"That's so," said Gripper; "and one evening I found him with his paws on the wheel."
With his paws on the wheel
"Impossible!" said Bolton.
"And then," continued Clifton, "doesn't he run out at night on the ice-fields without caring for the bears or the cold?"
"That's true," said Bolton.
"Did you ever see him making up to the men like an honest dog, or hanging around the kitchen, and following the cook when he's carrying a savory dish to the officers? Haven't you all heard him at night, when he's run two or three miles away from the vessel, howling so that he makes your blood run cold, and that's not easy in weather like this? Did you ever seen him eat anything? He never takes a morsel from any one; he never touches the food that's given him, and, unless some one on board feeds him secretly, I can say he lives without eating. Now, if that's not strange, I'm no better than a beast myself."
"Upon my word," answered Bell, the carpenter, who had heard all of Clifton's speech, "it may be so."
But all the other sailors were silent.
"Well, as for me," continued Clifton, "I can say that if you don't believe, there are wiser people on board who don't seem so sure."
"Do you mean the mate?" asked Bolton.
"Yes, the mate and the doctor."
"Do you think they fancy the same thing?"
"I have heard them talking about it, and they could make no more out of it than we can; they imagined a thousand things which did not satisfy them in the least."
"Did they say the same things about the dog that you did, Clifton?" asked the carpenter.
"If they were not talking about the dog," answered Clifton, who was fairly cornered, "they were talking about the captain; it's exactly the same thing, and they confessed it was all very strange."
"Well, my friends," said Bell, "do you want to hear my opinion?"
"What is it!" they all cried.
"It is that there is not, and there will not be, any other captain than Richard Shandon."
"And the letter?" said Clifton.
"The letter was genuine," answered Bell; "it is perfectly true that some unknown person has equipped the Forward for an expedition in the ice; but the ship once off, no one will come on board."
"Well," asked Bolton, "where is the ship going to?"
"I don't know; at the right time, Richard Shandon will get the rest of the instructions."
"But from whom?"
"From whom?"
"Yes, in what way?" asked Bolton, who was becoming persistent.
"Come, Bell, an answer," said the other sailors.
"From whom? in what way? O, I'm sure I don't know!"
"Well, from the dog!" cried Clifton. "He has already written once, and he can again. O, if I only knew half as much as he does, I might be First Lord of the Admiralty!"
"So," added Bolton, in conclusion, "you persist in saying that dog is the captain?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well," said Pen, gruffly, "if that beast doesn't want to