She was in apple-pie order.  The engines had been cleaned up; and I thought we could make a quick thing of it.  I was a little dashed when I found the crew was small; but I have been glad enough since that we had no more mouths.  No one but myself knew our destination.  The men thought we were to take despatches to the Gulf squadron.

You remember I had had only verbal orders to take command, and after we got outside the bay I opened my sealed despatches.  The gist of them was in these words:—­

“You will understand that the honor of this government is pledged for the safe delivery of the Florida to the government of Brazil.  You will therefore hazard nothing to gain speed.  The quantity of your coal has been adjusted with the view to give your vessel her best trim, and the supply is not large.  You will husband it with care,—­taking every precaution to arrive in Bahia safely with your charge, in such time as your best discretion may suggest to you.”

“Your best discretion” was underscored.

I called Prendergast, and showed him the letter.  Then we called the engineer and asked about the coal.  He had not been into the bunkers, but went and returned with his face white, through the black grime, to report “not four days’ consumption.”  By some cursed accident, he said, the bunkers had been filled with barrels of salt-pork and flour!

On this, I ordered a light and went below.  There had been some fatal misunderstanding somewhere.  The vessel was fitted out as for an arctic voyage.  Everywhere hard-bread, flour, pork, beef, vinegar, sour-krout; but, clearly enough, not, at the very best, five days of coal!

And I was to get to Brazil with this old pirate transformed into a provision ship, “at my best discretion.”

“Prendergast,” said I, “we will take it easy.  Were you ever in Bahia?”

“Took flour there in ’55, and lay waiting for India-rubber from July to October.  Lost six men by yellow-jack.”

Prendergast was from the merchant marine.  I had known him since we were children.  “Ethan,” said I, “in my best discretion it would be bad to arrive there before the end of October.  Where would you go?”

I cannot say he took the responsibility.  He would not take it.  You know, my dear, of course, that it was I who suggested Upernavik.  From the days of the old marbled paper Northern Regions,—­through the quarto Ross and Parry and Back and the nephew Ross and Kane and McClure and McClintock, you know, my dear, what my one passion has been,—­to see those floes and icebergs for myself.  Surely you forgive me, or at least excuse me.  Do not you?  Here was this fast steamer under me.  I ought not to be in Bahia before October 25.  It was June 1.  Of course we went to Upernavik.