Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE

PURCHASE OF THE NORTH POLE

What would the first inhabitant say?
Page [19].

THE
PURCHASE OF THE NORTH POLE

A SEQUEL TO

“FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON”

BY

JULES VERNE

AUTHOR OF “TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA,” “AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS,” “THE FUR COUNTRY,” ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

LONDON AND EDINBURGH

SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY

Limited

CONTENTS.

BARBICANE & CO.;

OR,

THE PURCHASE OF THE NORTH POLE.

CHAPTER I.
THE NORTH POLAR PRACTICAL ASSOCIATION.

“And so, Mr. Maston, you consider that a woman can do nothing for the advance of the mathematical or experimental sciences?”

“To my extreme regret, Mrs. Scorbitt,” said J. T. Maston, “I am obliged to say so. That there have been many remarkable female mathematicians, especially in Russia, I willingly admit; but with her cerebral conformation it is not in a woman to become an Archimedes or a Newton.”

“Then, Mr. Maston, allow me to protest in the name of my sex—”

“Sex all the more charming, Mrs. Scorbitt, from its never having taken to transcendental studies!”

“According to you, Mr. Maston, if a woman had seen an apple fall she would never have been able to discover the laws of universal gravitation as did the illustrious Englishman at the close of the seventeenth century!”

“In seeing an apple fall, Mrs. Scorbitt, a woman would have only one idea—to eat it, after the example of our mother Eve.”

“You deny us all aptitude for the higher speculations—”

“All aptitude? No, Mrs. Scorbitt. But I would ask you to remember that since there have been people on this earth, and women consequently, there has never been discovered a feminine brain to which we owe a discovery in the domain of science analogous to the discoveries of Aristotle, Euclid, Kepler, or Laplace.”

“Is that a reason? Is it inevitable that the future should be as the past?”

“Hum! That which has not happened for thousands of years is not likely to happen.”

“Then we must resign ourselves to our fate, Mr. Maston. And as we are indeed good—”

“And how good!” interrupted J. T. Maston, with all the amiable gallantry of which a philosopher crammed with x was capable.

Mrs. Scorbitt was quite ready to be convinced.

“Well, Mr. Maston,” she said, “each to his lot in this world. Remain the extraordinary mathematician that you are. Give yourself entirely to the problems of that immense enterprise to which you and your friends have devoted their lives! I will remain the good woman I ought to be, and assist you with the means.”

“For which you will have our eternal gratitude,” said J. T. Maston.

Mrs. Scorbitt blushed deliciously, for she felt, if not for philosophers in general, at least for J. T. Maston, a truly strange sympathy. Is not a woman’s heart unfathomable?

An immense enterprise it was which this wealthy American widow had resolved to support with large sums of money. The object of its promoters was as follows:—

The Arctic territories, properly so called, according to the highest geographical authorities, are bounded by the seventy-eighth parallel, and extend over fourteen hundred thousand square miles, while the seas extend over seven hundred thousand.

Within this parallel have intrepid modern discoverers advanced nearly as far as the eighty-fourth degree of latitude, revealing many a coast hidden beyond the lofty chain of icebergs, giving names to capes, promontories, gulfs, and bays of these vast Arctic highlands. But beyond this eighty-fourth parallel is a mystery, the unrealizable desideratum of geographers. No one yet knows if land or sea lies hid in that space of six degrees, that impassable barrier of Polar ice.

In this year, 189—, the United States Government had unexpectedly proposed to put up to auction the circumpolar regions then remaining undiscovered, having been urged to this extraordinary step by an American society which had been formed to obtain a concession of the apparently useless tract.

Some years before the Berlin Conference had formulated a special code for the use of Great Powers wishing to appropriate the property of another under pretext of colonization or opening up commercial routes. But this code was not applicable, under the circumstances, as the Polar domain was not inhabited. Nevertheless, as that which belongs to nobody belongs to all, the new society did not propose to “take” but to “acquire.”

In the United States there is no project so audacious for which people cannot be found to guarantee the cost and find the working expenses. This was well seen when a few years before the Gun Club of Baltimore had entered on the task of despatching a projectile to the Moon, in the hope of obtaining direct communication with our satellite. Was it not these enterprising Yankees who had furnished the larger part of the sums required by this interesting attempt? And if it had succeeded, would it not be owing to two of the members of the said club who had dared to face the risk of an entirely novel experiment?

If a Lesseps were one day to propose to cut a gigantic canal through Europe and Asia, from the shores of the Atlantic to the China Sea; if a well-sinker of genius were to offer to pierce the earth in the hopes of finding and utilizing the beds of silicates supposed to be there in a fluid state; if an enterprising electrician proposed to combine the currents disseminated over the surface of the globe so as to form an inexhaustible source of heat and light; if a daring engineer were to have the idea of storing in vast receptacles the excess of summer temperature, in order to transfer it to the frozen regions in the winter; if a hydraulic specialist were to propose to utilize the force of the tide for the production of heat or power at will; if companies were to be formed to carry out a hundred projects of this kind—it is the Americans who would be found at the head of the subscribers, and rivers of dollars would flow into the pockets of the projectors, as the great rivers of North America flow into—and are lost in—the ocean.

It was only natural that public opinion should be much exercised at the announcement that the Arctic regions were to be sold to the highest bidder, particularly as no public subscription had been opened with a view to the purchase, for “all the capital had been subscribed in advance,” and, “it was left for Time to show how it was proposed to utilize the territory when it had become the property of the purchaser!”

Utilize the Arctic regions! In truth such an idea could only have originated in the brain of a madman!

But nevertheless nothing could be more serious than the scheme.

In fact, a communication had been sent to many of the journals of both continents, concluding with a demand for immediate inquiry on the part of those interested. It was the New York Herald that first published this curious farrago, and the innumerable patrons of Gordon Bennett read, on the morning of the 7th of November, the following advertisement, which rapidly spread through the scientific and industrial world, and became appreciated in very different ways:—

“NOTICE TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE.

“The regions of the North Pole situated within the eighty-fourth degree of north latitude have not yet been utilized, for the very good reason that they have not yet been discovered.

“The furthest points attained by the navigators of different nations are the following:— 82° 45′, said to have been reached by the Englishman, Parry, in July, 1847, in long. 28° E. north of Spitzbergen; 83° 20′ 28″, said to have been reached by Markham in the English expedition of Sir John Nares, in May, 1876, in long. 50° W. north of Grinnell Land; 83° 35′, said to have been reached by Lockwood and Brainard in the American expedition of Lieutenant Greely, in May, 1882, in long. 42° W. in the north of Nares’ Land.

“It can thus be considered that the region extending from the eighty-fourth parallel to the Pole is still undivided among the different States of the globe. It is, therefore, excellently adapted for annexation as a private estate after formal purchase in public auction.

“The property belongs to nobody by right of occupation, and the Government of the United States of America, having been applied to in the matter, have undertaken to name an official auctioneer for the purposes of its disposal.

“A company has been formed at Baltimore, under the title of the North Polar Practical Association, which proposes to acquire the region by purchase, and thus obtain an indefeasible title to all the continents, islands, islets, rocks, seas, lakes, rivers, and watercourses whatsoever of which this Arctic territory is composed, although these may be now covered with ice, which ice may in summertime disappear.

“It is understood that this right will be perpetual and indefeasible, even in the event of modification—in any way whatsoever—of the geographical or meteorological conditions of the globe.

“The project having herewith been brought to the knowledge of the people of the two worlds, representatives of all nations will be admitted to take part in the bidding, and the property will be adjudged to the highest bidder.

“The sale will take place on the 3rd of December of the present year in the Auction Mart at Baltimore, Maryland, United States of America.

“For further particulars apply to William S. Forster, provisional agent of the North Polar Practical Association 93, High Street, Baltimore.”

It may be that this communication will be considered as a madman’s freak; but at any rate it must be admitted that in its clearness and frankness it left nothing to be desired. The serious part of it was that the Federal Government had undertaken to treat a sale by auction as a valid concession of these undiscovered territories.

Opinions on the matter were many. Some readers saw in it only one of those prodigious outbursts of American humbug, which would exceed the limits of puffism if the depths of human credulity were not unfathomable. Others thought the proposition should be seriously entertained. And these laid stress on the fact that the new company had not appealed to the public for funds. It was with their own money that they sought to acquire the northern regions. They did not seek to drain the dollars and banknotes of the simple into their coffers. No! All they asked was to pay with their own money for their circumpolar property! This was indeed extraordinary!

To those people who were fond of figures it seemed that all the said company had to do was to buy the right of the first occupant, but that was difficult, as access to the Pole appeared to be forbidden to man, and the new company would necessarily act with prudence, for too many legal precautions could hardly be taken.

It was noticed that the document contained a clause providing for future contingencies. This clause gave rise to much contradictory interpretation, for its precise meaning escaped the most subtle minds. It stipulated that the right would be perpetual, even in the event of modification in any way whatsoever of the geographical or meteorological conditions of the globe. What was the meaning of this clause? What contingency did it provide for? How could the earth ever undergo a modification affecting its geography or meteorology, especially in the territories in question?

“Evidently,” said the knowing ones, “there is something in this!”

Explanations there were many to exercise the ingenuity of some and the curiosity of others.

The Philadelphia Ledger made the following suggestion:—

“The future acquirers of the Arctic regions have doubtless ascertained by calculation that the nucleus of a comet will shortly strike the earth in such a manner that the shock will produce the geographical and meteorological changes for which the clause provides.”

This sounded scientific, but it threw no light on the matter. The idea of a shock from such a comet did not commend itself to the intelligent. It seemed inadmissible that the concessionaries should have prepared for so hypothetical an eventuality.

“Perhaps,” said the New Orleans Delta, “the new company imagine that the precession of the equinoxes will produce the modification favourable to the utilization of their new property.”

“And why not,” asked the Hamburger Correspondent, “if the movement modifies the parallelism of the axis of our spheroid?”

“In fact,” said the Paris Revue Scientifique, “did not Adhemar say, in his book on the revolutions of the sea, that the precession of the equinoxes, combined with the secular movement of the major axis of the terrestrial orbit, would be of a nature to bring about, after a long period, a modification in the mean temperature of the different parts of the Earth, and in the quantity of ice accumulated at the Poles?”

“That is not certain,” said the Edinburgh Guardian, “and even if it were so, would it not require a lapse of twelve thousand years for Vega to become our pole-star, in accordance with the said phenomenon, and for the Arctic regions to undergo a change in climate?”

“Well,” said the Copenhagen Dagblad, “in twelve thousand years it will be time enough to subscribe the money. Meanwhile we do not intend to risk a krone.”

But although the Revue Scientifique might be right with regard to Adhemar, it was probable that the North Polar Practical Association had never reckoned on a modification due to the precession of the equinoxes. And no one managed to discover the meaning of the clause, or the cosmical change for which it provided.

To ascertain what it meant application might perhaps be made to the directorate of the new company? Why not apply to its chairman? But the chairman was unknown! Unmentioned, too, were the secretary and directors. There was nothing to show from whom the advertisement emanated. It had been brought to the office of the New York Herald by a certain William S. Forster, of Baltimore, a worthy agent for codfish, acting for Ardrinell and Co., of Newfoundland, and evidently a man of straw. He was as mute on the subject as the fish consigned to his care, and the cleverest of reporters and interviewers could get nothing out of him.

But if the promoters of this industrial enterprise persisted in keeping their identity a mystery, their intentions were indicated clearly enough.

They intended to acquire the freehold of that portion of the Arctic regions bounded by the eighty-fourth parallel of latitude, with the North Pole as the central point.

Nothing was more certain than that among modern discoverers only Parry, Markham, Lockwood and Brainard had penetrated beyond this parallel. Other navigators of the Arctic seas had all halted below it. Payer, in 1874, had stopped at 82° 15′, to the north of Franz Joseph Land and Nova Zembla; De Long, in the Jeannette expedition in 1879, had stopped at 78° 45′, in the neighbourhood of the islands which bear his name. Others, by way of New Siberia and Greenland, in the latitude of Cape Bismarck, had not advanced beyond the 76th, 77th, and 79th parallels; so that by leaving a space of twenty-five minutes between Lockwood and Brainard’s 83° 35′ and the 84° mentioned in the prospectus, the North Polar Practical Association would not encroach on prior discoveries. Its project affected an absolutely virgin soil, untrodden by human foot.

The area of the portion of the globe within this eighty-fourth parallel is tolerably large.

From 84° to 90° there are six degrees, which, at sixty miles each, give a radius of 360 miles and a diameter of 720 miles. The circumference is thus 2216 miles, and the area, in round numbers, 407,000 square miles. This is nearly a tenth of the whole of Europe—a good-sized estate!

The advertisement, it will have been noticed, assumed the principle that regions not known geographically and belonging to nobody in particular belonged to the world at large. That the majority of the Powers would admit this contention was supposable, but it was possible that States bordering on these Arctic regions, or considering the regions as the prolongation of their dominions towards the north, might claim a right of possession. And their pretensions would be all the more justified by the discoveries that had been made having been chiefly due to these regions; and of course the Federal Government, as nominators of the auctioneer, would give these Powers an opportunity of claiming compensation, and satisfy the claim with the money realized by the sale. At the same time, as the partisans of the North Polar Practical Association continually insisted, the property was uninhabited, and as no one occupied it, no one could oppose its being put up to auction.

The bordering States with rights not to be disregarded were six in number—Great Britain, the United States, Denmark, Sweden and Norway, Holland, and Russia. But there were other countries that might put in a claim on the ground of discoveries made by their navigators.

France might, as usual, have intervened on account of a few of her children having taken part in occasional expeditions. There was the gallant Bellot, who died in 1853 near Beechey Island, during the voyage of the Phœnix, sent in search of Sir John Franklin. There was Dr. Octave Pavy, who died in 1884 at Cape Sabine, during the stay of the Greely expedition at Fort Conger. And there was the expedition in 1838–39, which took to the Spitzbergen Seas, Charles Martins and Marmier and Bravais, and their bold companions. But France did not propose to meddle in the enterprise, which was more industrial than scientific; and, at the outset, she abandoned any chance she might have of a slice of the Polar cake.

It was the same with Germany. She could point to the Spitzbergen expedition of Frederick Martens, and to the expeditions, in 1869–70, of the Germania and Hansa, under Koldewey and Hegeman, which reached Cape Bismarck on the Greenland coast. But notwithstanding these brilliant discoveries she decided to make no increase to the Germanic empire by means of a slice from the Pole.

So it was with Austria-Hungary, which, however, had her claims on Franz Joseph Land to the northward of Siberia.

As Italy had no right of intervention she did not intervene—which is not quite so obvious as it may appear.

The same happened with regard to the Samoyeds of Siberia, the Eskimos who are scattered along the northern regions of America, the natives of Greenland, of Labrador, of the Baffin Parry Archipelago, of the Aleutian Islands between Asia and America, and of Russian Alaska, which became American in 1867. But these people—the undisputed aborigines of the northern regions—had no voice in the matter. How could such poor folks manage to make a bid at the auction promoted by the North Polar Practical Association? And if they outbid the rest, how could they pay? In shellfish, or walrus teeth, or seal oil? But surely they had some claim on this territory? Strange to say, they were not even consulted in the matter!

Such is the way of the world!

CHAPTER II.
TO SYNDICATE OR NOT TO SYNDICATE.

If the new company “acquired” the Arctic regions, these regions would, owing to the company’s nationality, become for all practical purposes a part of the United States. What would the first inhabitant say? Would the other Powers permit it?

The Swedes and Norwegians were the owners of the North Cape, situated within the seventieth parallel, and made no secret that they considered they had rights extending beyond Spitzbergen up to the Pole itself. Had not Kheilhau, the Norwegian, and Nordenskiold, the celebrated Swede, contributed much to geographical progress in those regions? Undoubtedly.

Denmark was already master of Iceland and the Faroe Isles, besides the colonies in the Arctic regions at Disco, in Davis’s Straits; at Holsteinborg, Proven, Godhavn, and Upernavik, in Baffin Sea; and on the western coast of Greenland. Besides, had not Behring, a Dane in the Russian service, passed through in 1728 the straits now bearing his name? And had he not thirteen years afterwards, died on the island also named after him? And before him, in 1619, had not Jon Munk explored the eastern coast of Greenland, and discovered many points up to then totally unknown? Was not Denmark to have a voice in the matter?

There was Holland, too. Had not Barents and Heemskerk visited Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla at the close of the sixteenth century? Was it not one of her children, Jan Mayen, whose audacious voyage in 1611 gave her possession of the island named after him situated within the seventy-first parallel?

And how about Russia? Had not Behring been under the orders of Alexis Tschirikof? Had not Paulutski, in 1751, sailed into the Arctic seas? Had not Martin Spanberg and William Walton adventured in these unknown regions in 1739, and done notable exploring work in the straits between Asia and America? Had not Russia her Siberian territories, extending over a hundred and twenty degrees to the limits of Kamtschatka along the Asiatic littoral, peopled by Samoyeds, Yakuts, Tchouktchis, and others, and bordering nearly half of the Arctic Ocean? Was there not on the seventy-fifth parallel, at less than nine hundred miles from the Pole, the Liakhov Archipelago, discovered at the beginning of the eighteenth century?

And how about the United Kingdom, which possessed in Canada a territory larger than the whole of the United States, and whose navigators held the first place in the history of the frozen north? Had not the British a right to be heard in the matter?

But, not unnaturally, the British Government considered that they had quite enough to do without troubling themselves about an advertisement in the New York Herald. The Foreign Office did not consider the consignee of codfish even worthy of a pigeon-hole; and the Colonial Office seemed quite ignorant of his existence until the Secretary’s attention was called to the subject, when the official reply was given that the matter was one of purely local interest, in which her Majesty’s Government had no intention of concerning themselves.

In Canada, however, some stir was made, particularly among the French; and at Quebec a syndicate was formed for the purpose of competing with the company at Baltimore. The other countries interested followed the Canadian lead. Although the Governments haughtily ignored the audacious proposition, speculative individuals were found in Holland, Scandinavia, Denmark, and Russia to venture sufficient funds for preliminary expenses with a view to acquire imaginary rights that might prove profitably transferable.

Three weeks before the date fixed for the sale the representatives of these various syndicates arrived in the United States.

The only representative of the American company was the William S. Forster whose name figured in the advertisement of the 7th of November.

Holland sent Jacques Jansen, a councillor of the Dutch East Indies, fifty-three years of age, squat, broad, and protuberant, with short arms and little bow legs, aluminium spectacles, face round and red, hair in a mop, and grizzly whiskers—a solid man, not a little incredulous on the subject of an enterprise whose practical consequences he did not quite see.

The Danish syndicate sent Erik Baldenak, an ex-subgovernor of the Greenland colonies, a man of middle height, somewhat unequal about the shoulders, with a perceptible corporation, a large head, and eyes so short-sighted that everything he read he almost touched with his nose. His instructions were to treat as beyond argument the rights of his country, which was the legitimate proprietor of the Polar regions.

The Swedes and Norwegians sent Jan Harald, professor of cosmography at Christiania, who had been one of the warmest partisans of the Nordenskiold expedition, a true type of the Norseman, with clear, fresh face, and beard and hair of the colour of the over-ripe corn. Harald’s private opinion was that the Polar cap was covered with the Palæocrystic Sea, and therefore valueless. But none the less, he intended to do the best he could for those who employed him.

The representative of the Russian financiers was Colonel Boris Karkof, half soldier, half diplomatist; tall, stiff, hairy, bearded, moustached; very uncomfortable in his civilian clothes, and unconsciously seeking for the handle of the sword he used to wear. The colonel was very anxious to know what was concealed in the proposition of the North Polar Practical Association, with a view to ascertaining if it would not give rise to international difficulties.

England having declined all participation in the matter, the only representatives of the British Empire were those from the Quebec Company. These were Major Donellan, a French-Canadian, whose ancestry is sufficiently apparent from his name, and a compatriot of his named Todrin. Donellan was tall, thin, bony, nervous, and angular, and of just such a figure as the Parisian comic journals caricature as that of an Englishman. Todrin was the very opposite of the Major, being short and thick-set, and talkative and amusing. He was said to be of Scotch descent, but no trace of it was observable in his name, his character, or his appearance.

The representatives arrived at Baltimore by different steamers. They were each furnished with the needful credit to outbid their rivals up to a certain point; but the limit differed in each case. The Canadian representatives had command of much the most liberal supplies, and it seemed as though the struggle would resolve itself into a dollar duel between the two American companies.

As soon as the delegates arrived they each tried to put themselves in communication with the North Polar Practical Association unknown to the others. Their object was to discover the motives of the enterprise, and the profit the Association expected to make out of it. But there was no trace of an office at Baltimore. The only address was that of William S. Forster, High Street, and the worthy codfish agent pretended that he knew nothing about it. The secret of the Association was impenetrable.

The consequence was that the delegates met, visited each other, cross-examined each other, and finally entered into communication with a view of taking united action against the Baltimore company. And one day, on the 22nd November, they found themselves in conference at the Wolseley Hotel, in the rooms of Major Donellan and Todrin, the meeting being due to the diplomatic efforts of Colonel Boris Karkof.

To begin with, the conversation occupied itself with the advantages, commercial or industrial, which the Association expected to obtain from its Arctic domain. Professor Harald inquired if any of his colleagues had been able to ascertain anything with regard to this point; and all of them confessed that they had endeavoured to pump William S. Forster without success.

“I failed,” said Baldenak.

“I did not succeed,” said Jansen.

“When I went,” said Todrin, “I found a fat man in a black coat and wearing a stove-pipe hat. He had on a white apron, and when I asked him about this affair, he told me that the South Star had just arrived from Newfoundland with a full cargo of fine cod, which he was prepared to sell me on advantageous terms on behalf of Messrs. Ardrinell and Co.”

“Eh! eh!” said the Councillor of the Dutch East Indies. “You had much better buy a full cargo of fine cod than throw your money into the Arctic Sea.”

“That’s not the question,” said the Major. “We are not talking of codfish, but of the Polar ice-cap—”

“Which,” said Todrin, “the codfish-man wants to wear.”

“It will give him influenza,” said the Russian.

“That is not the question,” said the Major. “For some reason or other, this North Polar Practical Association—mark the word ‘Practical,’ gentlemen—wishes to buy four hundred and seven thousand square miles round the North Pole, from the eighty-fourth—”

“We know all that,” said Professor Harald. “But what we want to know is, what do these people want to do with these territories, if they are territories, or these seas, if they are seas—”

“That is not the question,” said Donellan. “Here is a company proposing to purchase a portion of the globe which, by its geographical position, seems to belong to Canada.”

“To Russia,” said Karkof.

“To Holland,” said Jansen.

“To Scandinavia,” said Harald.

“To Denmark,” said Baldenak.

“Gentlemen!” said Todrin, “excuse me, but that is not the question. By our presence here we have admitted the principle that the circumpolar territories can be put up to auction, and become the property of the highest bidder. Now, as you have powers to draw to a certain amount, why should you not join forces and control such a sum as the Baltimore company will find it impossible to beat?”

The delegates looked at one another. A syndicate of syndicates! In these days we syndicate as unconcernedly as we breathe, as we drink, as we eat, as we sleep. Why not syndicate still further?

But there was an objection, or rather an explanation was necessary, and Jansen interpreted the feeling of the meeting when he asked,—

“And after?”

Yes! After?

“But it seems to me that Canada—” said Donellan.

“And Russia—” said Karkof.

“And Holland—” said Jansen.

“And Denmark—” said Baldenak.

“Don’t quarrel, gentlemen,” said Todrin. “What is the good? Let us form our syndicate.”

“And after?” said Harald.

“After?” said Todrin. “Nothing can be simpler, gentlemen. When you have bought the property it will remain indivisible among you, and then for adequate compensation you can transfer it to one of the syndicates we represent; but the Baltimore company will be out of it.”

It was a good proposal, at least for the moment, for in the future the delegates could quarrel among themselves for the final settlement. Anyway, as Todrin had justly remarked, the Baltimore company would be out of it.

“That seems sensible,” said Baldenak.

“Clever,” said Karkof.

“Artful,” said Harald.

“Sly,” said Jansen.

“Quite Canadian,” said Donellan.

“And so, gentlemen,” said Karkof, “it is perfectly understood that if we form a syndicate the rights of each will be entirely reserved.”

“Agreed.”

It only remained to discover what sums had been placed to the credit of the delegates by the several associations which amounts when totalled would probably exceed anything at the disposal of the North Polar Practical people.

The question was asked by Todrin.

But then came a change over the scene. There was complete silence. No one would reply. Open his purse, empty his pocket into the common cash-box, tell in advance how much he had to bid with—there was no hurry to do that! And if disagreement arose later on, if circumstances obliged the delegates to look after themselves, if the diplomatic Karkof were to feel hurt at the little wiles of Jansen, who might take offence at the clumsy artifices of Baldenak, who, in turn, became irritated at the ingenuities of Harald, who might decline to support the pretentious claims of Donellan, who would find himself compelled to intrigue against all his colleagues individually and collectively—to proclaim the length of their purses was to reveal their game, which above all things they desired to keep dark.

Obviously there were only two ways of answering Todrin’s indiscreet demand. They might exaggerate their resources, which would be embarrassing when they had to put the money down; or they might minimize them in such a way as to turn the proposition into a joke.

This idea occurred to the Dutchman.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “I regret that for the acquisition of the Arctic regions I am unable to dispose of more than fifty gulden.”

“And,” said the Russian, “all I have to venture is thirty-five roubles.”

“I have twenty kroner,” said Harald.

“I have only fifteen,” said Baldenak.

“Well,” said the Major, “it is evident that the profit in this matter will be yours, for all I have at my disposal is the miserable sum of thirty cents.”

CHAPTER III.
THE NORTH POLE IS KNOCKED DOWN TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER.

That the sale of the 3rd of December should take place in the Auction Mart might appear strange. As a rule, only furniture, instruments, pictures, and objects of art were sold there. But for this curious departure from the ordinary practice in the sale of land a precedent was discoverable, as already a portion of our planet had changed hands under the hammer.

A few years before, at San Francisco, in California, an island in the Pacific Ocean, Spencer Island, had been sold to the rich W. W. Kolderup, when he outbid J. R. Taskinar, of Stockton.[^[1]] Spencer Island was habitable; it was only a few degrees from the Californian coast; it had forests, watercourses, a fertile soil, and fields and prairies fit for cultivation; it was not an indefinite region, covered perhaps with sea and perpetual ice, which probably no one would ever occupy. For Spencer Island four hundred thousand dollars had been paid; for the polar territories it was not to be expected that anything like that amount would be forthcoming.

[1]. See “Godfrey Morgan,” by the same author.

Nevertheless, the strangeness of the affair had brought together a considerable crowd, chiefly of lookers-on, to witness the result. The sale was to take place at noon, and all the morning the traffic in Bolton Street was seriously interfered with. Long before the hour fixed for the sale the room was full, with the exception of a few seats railed off and reserved for the delegates; and when Baldenak, Karkof, Jansen, Harald, Donellan, and Todrin had taken these places, they formed a compact group, shoulder to shoulder, and looked as if they were a veritable storming column ready for the assault of the Pole.

Close to them was the consignee of codfish, whose vulgar visage expressed the sublimest indifference. He looked the least excited of all the crowd, and seemed to be thinking only of how he could most profitably dispose of the cargoes now on their way to him from Newfoundland. Who were the capitalists represented by this man, with probably millions of dollars at his command?

There was nothing to show that J. T. Maston and Mrs. Scorbitt had anything to do with the affair. How could it be supposed that they had? They were there, though, but lost in the crowd, and were surrounded by a few of the principal members of the Gun Club, apparently simply as spectators and quite disinterested. William S. Forster seemed to have not the least knowledge of their existence.

As it was impossible to hand round the North Pole for the purposes of examination, a large map of the Arctic regions had been hung behind the auctioneer’s desk. Seventeen degrees above the Arctic Circle a broad red line around the eighty-fourth parallel marked off the portion of the globe which the North Polar Practical Association had brought to the hammer. According to the map, the region was occupied by a sea covered with an ice-cap of considerable thickness. But that was the affair of the purchasers. At least, no one could complain that they had been deceived as to the nature of the goods.

As twelve o’clock struck, the auctioneer, Andrew R. Gilmour, entered by a little door behind his desk. He surveyed the assembly for an instant through his glasses, and then, calling for silence by a tap from his hammer, he addressed the crowd as follows:—

“Gentlemen, I have been instructed by the Federal Government to offer for sale a property situated at the North Pole, bounded by the eighty-fourth parallel of latitude, and consisting of certain continents and seas, either solid or liquid—but which I am not quite sure. Kindly cast your eyes on this map. It has been compiled according to the latest information. You will see that the area is approximately four hundred and seven thousand square miles. To facilitate the sale it has been decided that the biddings for this extensive region shall be made per square mile. You will therefore understand that every cent bid will represent in round numbers 407,000 cents, and every dollar 407,000 dollars. I must ask you to be silent, gentlemen, if you please.”

The appeal was not superfluous, for the impatience of the public was producing a gradually-increasing tumult that would drown the voices of the bidders.

When tolerable quietness had been established thanks to the intervention of Flint, the auctioneer’s porter, who roared like a siren on a foggy day, Gilmour continued,—

“Before we begin the biddings, I think it right to remind you of three things. The property has only one boundary, that of the eighty-fourth degree of north latitude. It has a guaranteed title. And it will remain the property of the purchasers, no matter what geographical or meteorological modifications the future may produce.”

Always this curious observation!

“Now, gentlemen,” said Gilmour; “what offers?” and, giving his hammer a preliminary shake, he continued in a vibrating nasal tone, “We will start at ten cents the square mile.”

Ten cents, the tenth of a dollar, meant 40,700 dollars for the lot.

Whether Gilmour had a purchaser at this price or not, the amount was quickly increased by Baldenak.

“Twenty cents!” he said.

“Thirty cents!” said Jansen for the Dutchmen.

“Thirty-five!” said Professor Harald.

“Forty!” said the Russian.

That meant 162,800 dollars, and yet the bidding had only begun. The Canadians had not even opened their mouths. And William S. Forster seemed absorbed in the Newfoundland Mercury.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Gilmour, “any advance on forty cents? Forty cents! Come, the polar cap is worth more than that; it is—”

What he would have added is unknown; perhaps it was, “guaranteed pure ice;” but the Dane interrupted him with—

“Fifty cents!”

Which the Dutchman at once capped with—

“Sixty!”

“Sixty cents the square mile! Any advance on sixty cents?”

These sixty cents made the respectable sum of 244,200 dollars.

At Jansen’s bid, Donellan raised his head and looked at Todrin; but at an almost imperceptible negative sign from him he remained silent.

All that Forster did was to scrawl a few notes on the margin of his newspaper.

“Come, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer; “wake up! Surely you are going to give more than that?”

And the hammer began to move up and down, as if in disgust at the weakness of the bidding.

“Seventy cents!” said Harald, in a voice that trembled a little.

“Eighty cents!” said Karkof, almost in the same breath.

A nod from Todrin woke up the Major, as if he were on springs.

“Hundred cents!” said the Canadian.

That meant 407,000 dollars!

Four hundred and seven thousand dollars! A high price to pay for a collection of icebergs, ice-fields, and ice-floes!

And the representative of the North Polar Practical Association did not even raise his eyes from his newspaper. Had he been instructed not to bid? If he had waited for his competitors to bid their highest, surely the moment had come? In fact, their look of dismay when the Major fired his “hundred cents” showed that they had abandoned the battle.

“A hundred cents the square mile!” said the auctioneer. “Any advance? Is that so? Is that so? No advance?”

And he took a firm grasp on his hammer, and looked round him.

“Once!” he continued. “Twice! Any advance?”

“A hundred and twenty cents!” said Forster, quietly, as he turned over a page of his newspaper.

“And forty!” said the Major.

“And sixty!” drawled Forster.

“And eighty!” drawled the Major, quite as placidly.

“A hundred and ninety!” said Forster.

“And five!” said the Major, as if it were a mere casual observation.

You might have heard an ant walk, a bleak swim, a moth fly, a worm wriggle, or a microbe wag its tail—if it has a tail.

Gilmour allowed a few moments to pass, which seemed like centuries. The consignee of codfish continued reading his newspaper and jotting down figures on the margin which had evidently nothing to do with the matter on hand. Had he reached the length of his tether? Had he made his last bid? Did this price of 195 cents the square mile, or 793,050 dollars for the whole, appear to him to have reached the last limit of absurdity?

“One hundred and ninety-five cents!” said the auctioneer. “Going at one hundred and ninety-five cents!”

And he raised his hammer.

“One hundred and ninety-five cents! Going! Going!”

And every eye was turned on the representative of the North Polar Practical Association.

That extraordinary man drew a large handkerchief from his pocket, and, hiding his face in it, blew a long, sonorous blast with his nose.

Then J. T. Maston looked at him, and Mrs. Scorbitt’s eyes took the same direction. And by the paleness of their features it could be seen how keen was the excitement they were striving to subdue. Why did Forster hesitate to outbid the Major?

Forster blew his nose a second time; then, with an even louder blast, he blew it a third time. And between the blasts he quietly observed,—

“Two hundred cents!”

A shudder ran through the hall.

The Major seemed overwhelmed, and fell back against Todrin. At this price per square mile, the Arctic regions would cost 814,000 dollars. The Canadian limit had evidently been passed.

“Two hundred cents!” said Gilmour. “Once! Twice! Any advance?” he continued.

The Major looked at the Professor, and the Colonel, and the Dutchman, and the Dane; and the Professor, and the Colonel, and the Dutchman, and the Dane looked at the Major.

“Going! Going!” said the auctioneer.

Every one looked at the codfish man.

“Gone!”

And down came Gilmour’s hammer.

The North Polar Practical Association, represented by William S. Forster, had become the proprietors of the North Pole and its promising neighbourhood. And when William S. Forster had to name the real purchasers, he placidly drawled,—“Barbicane & Co!”

CHAPTER IV.
OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

Barbicane & Co.! The president of the Gun Club! What was the Gun Club going to do with the North Pole? We shall see.

Is it necessary to formally introduce Impey Barbicane, the president of the Gun Club, and Captain Nicholl, and J. T. Maston, and Tom Hunter with the wooden legs, and the brisk Bilsby, and Colonel Bloomsberry and their colleagues? No! Although twenty years had elapsed since the attention of the world was concentrated on these remarkable personages, they had remained much as they were, just as incomplete corporeally, and just as obstreperous, just as daring, just as wrapped up in themselves as when they had embarked in their extraordinary adventure. Time had made no impression on the Gun Club; it respected them as people respect the obsolete cannon that are found in the museums of old arsenals.

If the Gun Club comprised 1833 members at its foundation—that is persons and not limbs, for a number of these were missing—if 30,575 correspondents were proud of their connection with the club, the number had in no way decreased. On the contrary, thanks to the unprecedented attempt they had made to open communication with the Moon, as related in the Moon Voyage, its celebrity had increased enormously.

It will be remembered that a few years after the War of Secession certain members of the Gun Club, tired of doing nothing, had proposed to send a projectile to the Moon by means of a monster Columbiad. A gun nine hundred feet long had been solemnly cast at Tampa Town, in the Floridan peninsula, and loaded with 400,000 lbs. of fulminating cotton. Shot out by this gun, a cylindro-conical shell of aluminium had been sent flying among the stars of the night under a pressure of six million millions of litres of gas. Owing to a deviation of the trajectory, the projectile had gone round the Moon and fallen back to the earth, dropping into the Pacific Ocean in lat. 27° 7′ N., long. 141° 37′ west; when the frigate Susquehanna had secured it, to the great satisfaction of its passengers.

Of its passengers, two members of the Gun Club, the president, Impey Barbicane, and Captain Nicholl, with a hare-brained Frenchman, had taken passage in the projectile and had all returned from the voyage safe and sound. But if the two Americans were then present ready to risk their lives in some new adventure, it was not so with Michel Ardan. He had returned to Europe, and made a fortune, and was now planting cabbages in his retirement, if the best-informed reporters were to be believed.

Barbicane and Nicholl had also retired, comparatively speaking, but they had retired only to dream of some new enterprise of a similar character. They were in no want of money. From their last undertaking there remained nearly two hundred thousand dollars out of the five millions and a half yielded by the public subscriptions of the old and new worlds; and by exhibiting themselves in their aluminium projectile throughout the United States they had realized enough wealth and glory to satisfy the most exacting of human ambitions. They would have been content if idleness had not been wearisome to them; and it was probably in order to find something to do that they had now bought the Arctic regions.

But it should not be forgotten that if they had paid for their purchase eight hundred thousand dollars and more, it was because Evangelina Scorbitt had advanced the balance they required.

Although Barbicane and Nicholl enjoyed incomparable celebrity, there was one who shared it with them. This was J. T. Maston, the impetuous secretary of the Gun Club. Was it not this able mathematician who had made the calculations which had enabled the great experiment to be made? If he had not accompanied his two colleagues on their extraordinary voyage, it was not from fear; certainly not! But the worthy gunner wanted a right arm, and had a gutta-percha cranium, owing to one of those accidents so common in warfare; and if he had shown himself to the Selenites it might have given them an erroneous idea of the inhabitants of the Earth, of which the Moon after all is but the humble satellite.

To his profound regret J. T. Maston had had to resign himself to staying at home. But he was not idle. After the construction of the immense telescope on the summit of Long’s Peak, one of the highest of the Rocky Mountains, he had transported himself there, and from the moment he found the projectile describing its majestic trajectory in the sky he never left his post of observation. At the eye-piece of the huge instrument he devoted himself to the task of following his friends as they journeyed in their strange carriage through space.

It might be thought that the bold voyagers were for ever lost to earth. The projectile, drawn into a new orbit by the Moon, might gravitate eternally round the Queen of the Night as a sort of sub-satellite. But no! A deviation, which by many was called providential, had modified the projectile’s direction, and, after making the circle of the Moon, brought it back from that spheroid at a speed of 172,800 miles an hour at the moment it plunged into the ocean.

Luckily the liquid mass of the Pacific had broken the fall, which had been perceived by the U.S. frigate Susquehanna. As soon as the news had reached J. T. Maston, he had set out in all haste from the observatory at Long’s Peak to the rescue of his friends. Soundings were taken in the vicinity of where the shell had been seen to fall, and the devoted Maston had not hesitated to go down in diver’s dress to find his friends. But such trouble was unnecessary. The projectile being of aluminium, displacing an amount of water greater than its own weight, had returned to the surface of the Pacific after a magnificent plunge. And President Barbicane, Captain Nicholl, and Michel Ardan were found in their floating prison playing dominoes.

The part that Maston took in these extraordinary proceedings had brought him prominently to the front. He was not handsome, with his artificial cranium and his mechanical arm with its hook for a hand. He was not young, for fifty-eight years had chimed and struck at the date of our story’s beginning. But the originality of his character, the vivacity of his intelligence, the fire in his eye, the impetuosity with which he had attacked everything, had made him the beau-ideal of a man in the eyes of Evangelina Scorbitt. His brain, carefully protected beneath its gutta-percha roof was intact, and justly bore the reputation of being one of the most remarkable of the day.

Mrs. Scorbitt—though the least calculation gave her a headache—had a taste for mathematicians if she had not one for mathematics. She looked upon them as upon beings of a peculiar and superior species. Heads where x’s knocked against x’s like nuts in a bag, brains which rejoiced in algebraic formulæ, hands which threw about triple integrals as an equilibrist plays with glasses and bottles, intelligences which understood this sort of thing:

∫∫∫Φ(xyz) dx dy dz

—these were the wise men who appeared worthy of all the admiration of a woman, attracted to them proportionally to their mass and in inverse ratio to the square of their distances. And J. T. Maston was bulky enough to exercise on her an irresistible attraction, and as to the distance between them it would be simply zero, if she succeeded in her plans.

It must be confessed that this gave some anxiety to the secretary of the Gun Club, who had never sought happiness in such close approximations. Besides, Evangelina Scorbitt was no longer in her first youth; but she was not a bad sort of person by any means, and she would have wanted for nothing could she only see the day when she was introduced to the drawing-rooms of Baltimore as Mrs. J. T. Maston.

The widow’s fortune was considerable. Not that she was as rich as Gould, Mackay, Vanderbilt, or Gordon Bennett, whose fortunes exceed millions, and who could give alms to a Rothschild. Not that she possessed the millions of Mrs. Moses Carper, Mrs. Stewart, or Mrs. Crocker; nor was she as rich as Mrs. Hammersley, Mrs. Helby Green, Mrs. Maffitt, Mrs. Marshall, Mrs. Para Stevens, Mrs. Mintbury, and a few others. But she was the possessor of four good millions of dollars, which had come to her from John P. Scorbitt, who had made a fortune by trade in fashionable sundries and salt pork. And this fortune the generous widow would have been happy to employ for the advantage of J. T. Maston, to whom she would bring a treasure of tenderness yet more inexhaustible.

At Maston’s request, she had cheerfully consented to put several hundreds of thousands of dollars at the disposal of the North Polar Practical Association, without even knowing what it was all about. With J. T. Maston concerned in it she felt assured that the work could not but be grandiose, sublime, super-excellent. The past of the Gun Club’s secretary was voucher enough for the future.

It may be guessed, therefore, if she lost confidence when the auctioneer’s hammer knocked down the North Pole to Barbicane & Co. While J. T. Maston formed part of the “Co.” could she do otherwise than applaud?

And thus it happened that Evangelina Scorbitt found herself chief proprietor of the Arctic regions within the eighty-fourth parallel. But what would she do with them? Or rather, how was the company going to get any benefit out of their inaccessible domain?

That was the question! And if in a pecuniary sense it had much interest for Mrs. Scorbitt, from a curiosity point of view it had quite as much interest for the world at large.

The trusting widow had asked a few questions of Maston before she advanced the funds. But Maston invariably maintained the closest reserve. Mrs. Scorbitt, he remarked, would know soon enough, but not before the hour had come, for she would be astonished at the object of the new association.

Doubtless he was thinking of some undertaking which to quote Jean Jacques, “never had an example, and never will have imitators,” of something destined to leave far behind the attempt made by the Gun Club to open up communication with the Moon.

When Evangelina grew somewhat pressing in her inquiries, J. T. Maston had placed his hook on his half-closed lips, and remarked soothingly,—

“Have confidence, Mrs. Scorbitt; have confidence!”

And if Mrs. Scorbitt had confidence before the sale, what immense joy she must have experienced at the result!

Still she could not help asking the eminent mathematician, what he was going to do next. And though she smiled on him bewitchingly, the eminent mathematician only replied, as he cordially shook her hand,—

“You will know very soon!”

That shake of the hand immediately calmed the impatience of Mrs. Scorbitt. And a few days later there was another shake, for the old and new worlds were considerably shaken—to say nothing of the shake that was coming—when they learnt the project for which the North Polar Practical Association appealed to the public for subscriptions.

The company announced that it had “acquired” the territory for the purpose of working—“the Coal Fields at the North Pole”!

CHAPTER V.
THE POLAR COAL-FIELD.

“But are there any coal-fields at the Pole?” Such was the first question that presented itself.

“Why should there be coal at the Pole?” said some.

“Why should there not be?” said others.

Coal-beds are found in many parts of the world. There is coal in Europe; there is coal in America; and in Africa; and in Asia; and in Oceania. As the globe is more and more explored, beds of fossil fuel are revealed in strata of all ages. There is true coal in the primary rocks, and there is lignite in the secondaries and tertiaries.

England alone produces a hundred and sixty millions of tons a year; the world consumes four hundred million tons, and with the requirements of industry there is no decrease but an increase in the consumption. The substitution of electricity for steam as a motive power means the expenditure of coal just the same. The industrial stomach cannot live without coal: industry is a carbonivorous animal, and must have its proper food.

Carbon is something else than a combustible. It is the telluric substance from which science draws the major part of the products and sub-products used in the arts. With the transformations to which it is subject in the crucibles of the laboratory you can dye, sweeten, perfume, vaporize, purify, heat, light, and you can produce the diamond.

But the coal-beds from which our carbon at present chiefly comes are not inexhaustible. And the well-informed people who are in fear for the future are looking about for new supplies wherever there is a probability of their existence.

“But why should there be coal at the Pole?”

“Why?” replied the supporters of President Barbicane. “Because in the carboniferous period, according to a well-known theory, the volume of the Sun was such that the difference in temperature between the Equator and the Poles was inappreciable. Immense forests covered the northern regions long before the appearance of man, when our planet was subject to the prolonged influence of heat and humidity.”

And this the journals, reviews, and magazines that supported the North Polar Practical Association insisted on in a thousand articles, popular and scientific. If these forests existed, what more reasonable to suppose than that the weather, the water, and the warmth had converted them into coal-beds?

But in addition to this there were certain facts which were undeniable. And these were important enough to suggest that a search might be made for the mineral in the regions indicated.

So thought Donellan and Todrin as they sat together in a corner of the “Two Friends.”

“Well,” said Todrin, “can Barbicane be right?”

“It is very likely,” said the Major.

“But then there are fortunes to be made in opening up the Polar regions!”

“Assuredly,” said the Major. “North America has immense deposits of coal; new discoveries are often being announced, and there are doubtless more to follow. The Arctic regions seem to be a part of the American continent geologically. They are similar in formation and physiography. Greenland is a prolongation of the new world, and certainly Greenland belongs to America—”

“As the horse’s head, which it looks like, belongs to the animal’s body,” said Todrin.

“Nordenskiold,” said Donellan, “when he explored Greenland, found among the sandstones and schists intercalations of lignite with many forest plants. Even in the Disko district, Steenstrup discovered eleven localities with abundant vestiges of the luxuriant vegetation which formerly encircled the Pole.”

“But higher up?” asked Todrin.

“Higher up, or farther up to the northward,” said the Major, “the presence of coal is extremely probable, and it only has to be looked for. And if there is coal on the surface, is it not reasonable to suppose that there is coal underneath?”

The Major was right. He was thoroughly posted up in all that concerned the geology of the Arctic regions, and he would have held on for some time if he had not noticed that the people in the “Two Friends” were listening to him.

“Are you not surprised at one thing, Major?”

“What is that?”

“That in this affair, in which you would expect to meet with engineers and navigators, you have only to deal with artillerists. What have they to do with the coal-mines of the North Pole?”

“That is rather surprising,” said the Major.

And every morning the newspapers returned to this matter of the coal-mines.

“Coal-beds!” said one, “what coal-beds?”

“What coal-beds?” replied another; “why, those that Nares found in 1875 and 1876 on the eighty-second parallel, when his people found the miocene flora rich in poplars, beeches, viburnums, hazels, and conifers.”

“And in 1881–1884,” added the scientific chronicler of the New York Witness, “during the Greely expedition to Lady Franklin Bay, a bed of coal was discovered by our men at Watercourse Creek, close to Fort Conger. Did not Dr. Pavy rightly consider that these carboniferous deposits were apparently destined to be used some day for contending with the cold of that desolate region?”

When these facts were brought forward, it will be easily understood that Impey Barbicane’s adversaries were hard up for a reply. The partisans of the “Why should there be coal?” had to lower their flag to the partisans of “Why should there not be?” Yes, there was coal! And probably a considerable amount of it. The circumpolar area contained large deposits of the precious combustible on the site of the formerly luxuriant vegetation.

But if the ground were cut from under their feet regarding the existence of the coal, the detractors took their revenge in attacking the question from another point.

“Be it so!” said the Major one day in the rooms of the Gun Club itself, when he discussed the matter with Barbicane. “Be it so! I admit there is coal there; I am convinced there is coal there. But work it!”

“That we are going to do,” said Barbicane tranquilly.

“Get within the eighty-fourth parallel, beyond which no explorer has yet gone!”

“We will get beyond it!”

“Go to the Pole itself!”

“We are going there!”

And in listening to the president of the Gun Club making these cool answers, talking with such assurance, expressing his opinion so haughtily and unmistakably, the most obstinate began to hesitate. They felt they were in the presence of a man who had lost nothing of his former qualities; calm, cool, with a mind eminently serious and concentrated, exact as a chronometer, adventurous, and bringing the most practical ideas to bear on the most daring undertakings. Solid, morally and physically, he was “deep in the water,” to employ a metaphor of Napoleon’s, and could hold his own against wind or tide. His enemies and rivals knew that only too well.

He had stated that he would reach the North Pole! He would set foot where no human foot had been set before! He would hoist the Stars and Stripes on one of the two spots of earth which remained immovable while all the rest spun round in diurnal rotation!

Here was a chance for the caricaturists! In the windows of the shops and kiosks of the great cities of Europe and America there appeared thousands of sketches and prints displaying Impey Barbicane seeking the most extravagant means of attaining his object.

Here the daring American, assisted by all the members of the Gun Club, pickaxe in hand, was driving a submarine tunnel through masses of ice, which was to emerge at the very point of the axis.

Here Barbicane, accompanied by J. T. Maston—a very good portrait—and Captain Nicholl, descended in a balloon on the point in question, and, after unheard-of dangers, succeeded in capturing a lump of coal weighing half a pound, which was all the circumpolar deposit contained.

Here J. T. Maston, who was as popular as Barbicane with the caricaturists, had been seized by the magnetic attraction of the Pole, and was fast held to the ground by his metal hook.

And it may be remarked here that the celebrated calculator was of too touchy a temperament to laugh at any jest at his personal peculiarities. He was very much annoyed at it, and it will be easily imagined that Mrs. Scorbitt was not the last to share in his just indignation.

Another sketch, in the Brussels Magic Lantern, represented Impey Barbicane and his co-directors working in the midst of flames, like so many incombustible salamanders. To melt the ice of the Palæocrystic Sea, they had poured out over it a sea of alcohol, and then lighted the spirit, so as to convert the polar basin into a bowl of punch. And, playing on the word punch, the Belgian designer had had the irreverence to represent the president of the Gun Club as a ridiculous punchinello.

But of all the caricatures, that which obtained the most success was published by the Parisian Charivari under the signature of “Stop.” In the stomach of a whale, comfortably furnished and padded, Impey Barbicane and J. T. Maston sat smoking and playing chess, waiting their arrival at their destination. The new Jonahs had not hesitated to avail themselves of an enormous marine mammifer, and by this new mode of locomotion had passed under the ice-floes to reach the inaccessible Pole.

The phlegmatic president was not in the least incommoded by this intemperance of pen and pencil. He let the world talk, and sing, and parody, and caricature; and he quietly went on with his work.