# Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX A LETTER
The Polar circle was entered at last. The Forward passed Holsteinberg at twelve o'clock on the 30th of April. Picturesque mountain scenery appeared on the eastern horizon, and the sea was open and free from icebergs, or rather any icebergs that were visible could easily be avoided. The wind was in the S. E., and bore along the brig in full sail up Baffin's Bay.
The day would have passed unmarked by any unusual incident but for the following occurrence, which, strange as it may appear, actually took place. At six in the morning, when Richard Shandon's watch was over, and he came back to his cabin, he found a letter lying on his table directed thus:
"To the chief officer, Richard Shandon, "On board the Forward,
"Baffin's Bay."
Shandon could not believe his own eyes, and would not even take the letter in his hands till he had called the Doctor and James Wall and the boatswain to look at it.
"It is certainly very strange," said Johnson.
"I think it is charming!" exclaimed the Doctor.
"At any rate," replied Shandon, "we shall know the secret now, I suppose."
He tore open the envelope hastily and read as follows:
"The captain of the Forward is pleased with the coolness, skill, and courage displayed in recent trying circumstances by the crew and officers, and yourself. He begs you to convey his thanks to the men.
"You will please direct your course north to Melville Bay, and from thence attempt to make Smith's Sound.
"The Captain of the Forward, "K. Z."
"Monday, April 30th, off Cape Walsingham."
​"And that's all!" exclaimed the Doctor.
"That's all," was Shandon's reply.
"Well!" said Wall, "this Quixotic captain doesn't even so much as speak of coming on board now. I infer from this he doesn't intend to come at all."
"But this letter," said Johnson, "how did it get on board the vessel?"
Shandon was silent.
"Mr. Wall is right," replied the Doctor, picking up the letter which had fallen on the floor, and giving it back to Shandon.
"The captain won't come on board for a very good reason."
"And what is it?" inquired Shandon, eagerly.
"Because he is there already!" said the Doctor flatly.
"Already! What do you mean?"
"If he is not, how do you explain the arrival of the letter?"
Johnson nodded his head approvingly.
"It is not possible!" exclaimed Shandon. "I know every one of the crew; and, if your idea were correct, the captain must have been on board ever since the ship sailed. It is perfectly impossible, I say; for there is not a man among them I haven't seen more than a hundred times in Liverpool during the last two years. No, no, Doctor; your theory is altogether inadmissible."
"Well, then, how do you account for it?"
"Any way but that. I grant you that the captain, or someone employed by him, may have taken advantage of the fog and darkness to slip on board unperceived. We are not far from land, and the Esquimaux kayaks glide alone noiselessly between the icebergs. He might easily have managed to climb up the ship and deposit the letter. The fog has been quite dense enough for that."
"Yes, and dense enough, too, to keep anyone from seeing the brig; for if we could not notice an intruder coming on deck, it is not very likely he would be able to discover the vessel."
"I think that too," said Johnson. "What do you say, Mr. Shandon?"
"Anything you like, except that he is one of the crew," said Shandon, in an excited manner.
​"Perhaps it is one of the sailors who has been commissioned by him," suggested Wall.
"That may be," said the Doctor.
"But which of them?" asked Shandon. "I tell you, all the men have been personally known to me this long time."
"At any rate, the captain will be welcome whenever he chooses to come, be he man or fiend," said Johnson. "But there is one piece of information in the letter at all events. We are not only going to Melville Bay but to Smith's Straits."
"Smith's Straits," repeated Shandon, mechanically.
"It is evident," continued Johnson, "that the object of the Forward is not to seek the North-West passage, since we must leave Lancaster Sound, the only entrance to it, on the left. This supposes very difficult navigation for us in unknown seas."
"Yes," said Shandon, "Smith's Sound was the course taken by the American Dr. Kane in 1853; and what dangers he encountered! He was given up for lost for a long time. However, if we are to go, we go. But where? To the Pole?"
"Why not?" asked the Doctor.
Johnson shrugged his shoulders at the bare possibility of such a mad attempt.
"Well, then," said Wall, "to come back to the captain; if he exists, I hardly see any place in Greenland where he can be waiting for us except Disko, or Upernavik, so in a few days at most we shall know better how the case stands."
"But, Shandon," asked the Doctor, "are you not going to tell the men about this letter?"
"With your leave, sir," said Johnson, addressing Shandon, "I say not."
"And why not?"
"Because anything so unheard-of and so mysterious disspirits the men. They are very uneasy as it is about the issue of this strange expedition, but if anything supernatural should occur, it might have the worst possible effect on them, and we could never rely on them when most wanted."
"What is your opinion, Doctor?" asked Shandon.
"Johnson's reasoning seems convincing, I think," was the reply.
"And what say you, James?"
​"I incline to Johnson, sir."
After a few moments' reflection, Shandon read the letter carefully again, and then said:
"Your opinion is very sensible, but excuse me, gentlemen, I cannot adopt it."
"Why not, Shandon?"
"Because my instructions are plain and precise. I am told to convey a message from the captain to the crew. All I have to do is to obey orders, however they may have come to me, and I cannot———"
"But, sir," interrupted Johnson, mainly concerned at the disastrous effect of any such communication on the sailors.
"My good fellow," said Shandon, "I can understand your opposition, but I put it to yourself, whether I have any option in the matter. Read the letter. 'He begs you to convey his thanks to the crew.'"
"Well, then," said Johnson, when his love of discipline was thus appealed to, "shall I assemble the men on deck?"
"Do so," replied Shandon.
The news of a communication from the captain soon spread, and the sailor needed no second summons to hear the mysterious letter. They listened to it in gloomy silence, but gave way to all sorts of wild conjectures, as they dispersed to their work. The superstitious Clifton ascribed everything, as usual, to the dog-captain, and said triumphantly: "Didn't I say that animal could write?"
From this day forward he always took care to touch his cap whenever he chanced to meet him about the ship. One thing was patent to the observation of anyone—the captain, or his ghost, was always watching over their doings, and prudent individuals began to think it advisable to keep quiet, and say as little about him as possible.
By observations taken at noon on the 1st of May, the longitude was found to be 32° and the latitude 68°. The temperature had risen, and the thermometer stood at 26° above zero.
The Doctor was on deck, amusing himself with the gambols of a white bear and her cubs, on a pack of ice frozen fast to the shore. He tried to capture her, with the assistance of Wall and Simpson; but the brute was evidently of a peaceable disposition, for she never showed fight at all, but scampered off with her progeny at full speed.
​Cape Chidley was doubled during the night with a favoring breeze, and suddenly the high mountains of Disko rose to view. The Bay of Godavhn, where the Governor-General of the Danish settlements resided, was left on the right.
Isle Disko is also called Whale Island. It was from this place that Sir John Franklin wrote his last letter to the Admiralty, on the 12th of July, 1845, and it was there that McClintock touched on his return, on the 27th of August, 1859, bringing incontestable proofs of the loss of the expedition.
The shore was one continuation of icebergs, of the most peculiar fantastic shapes, so firmly cemented to the coast that the most powerful thaws had been unable to detach them.
Next day, about three o'clock, they sighted Sanderson Hope, to the N.E. Land was on the starboard side, about fifteen miles off, the mountains looking brownish-red in the distance. In the course of the evening, several whales of the species called finners, which have their fins on the back, were seen disporting themselves among the ice, blowing out large volumes of air and water through the apertures in the head.
During the night of the 5th of May, the Doctor observed the luminous disc of the sun, for the first time, appear completely above the horizon, though from the 31st of January there had been constant daylight.
To those who are not accustomed to it, there is something in this continual day which excites wonderment at first, but soon gives place to weariness. One would hardly believe how necessary the darkness of night is for the preservation of the sight. The Doctor felt the constant glare positively painful, intensified as it was by the dazzling reflection of the ice.
On the 5th of May the Forward passed the seventy-second parallel. Two months later, she would have fallen in with numerous whalers about to commence their fishing, but at present the Straits were not free enough to allow their vessels to get into Baffin's Bay.
The next day the brig arrived in sight of Upernavik, the most northerly of the Danish settlements on the coast.
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