It was now resolved that they should proceed along the coast and examine every creek and bay for traces of the lost vessel.

“O Bolton! my heart misgives me,” said Fred, as they drove along; “I fear that they have all perished.”

“Niver a bit, sir,” said O’Riley, in a sympathizing tone; “yon chap must have died and been buried here be the crew as they wint past.”

“You forget that sailors don’t bury men under mounds of stone, with pewter plates and spoons beside them.”

O’Riley was silenced, for the remark was unanswerable.

“He may ha’ bin left or lost on the shore, and been found by the Esquimaux,” suggested Peter Grim.

“Is that not another tomb?” inquired one of the men, pointing towards an object which stood on the end of a point or cape towards which they were approaching.

Ere any one could reply, their ears were saluted by the well-known bark of a pack of Esquimau dogs.  In another moment they dashed into the midst of a snow village, and were immediately surrounded by the excited natives.  For some time no information could be gleaned from their interpreter, who was too excited to make use of his meagre amount of English.  They observed, however, that the natives, although much excited, did not seem to be so much surprised at the appearance of white men amongst them as those were whom they had first met with near the ship.  In a short time Meetuck, apparently, had expended all he had to say to his friends, and turned to make explanations to Bolton in a very excited tone; but little more could be made out than that what he said had some reference to white men.  At length, in desperation, he pointed to a large hut, which seemed to be the principal one of the village, and dragging the mate towards it, made signs to him to enter.

Bolton hesitated an instant.

“He wants you to see the chief of the tribe, no doubt,” said Fred; “you’d better go in at once.”

A loud voice shouted something in the Esquimau language from within the hut.  At the sound Fred’s heart beat violently, and pushing past the mate he crept through the tunnelled entrance and stood within.  There was little furniture in this rude dwelling.  A dull flame flickered in a stone lamp which hung from the roof, and revealed the figure of a large Esquimau reclining on a couch of skins at the raised side of the hut.

The man looked up hastily as Fred entered, and uttered a few unintelligible words.

“Father!” cried Fred, gasping for breath, and springing forward.

Captain Ellice, for it was indeed he, started with apparent difficulty and pain into a sitting posture, and throwing back his hood revealed a face whose open, hearty, benignant expression shone through a coat of dark brown which long months of toil and exposure had imprinted on it.  It was thin, however, and careworn, and wore an expression that seemed to be the result of long-continued suffering.