CHAPTER ELEVEN 



The Dutch Whaler. 



WHEN JONATHAN awokc from the long deep sleep of utter 

 exhaustion he found that he was lying in a hammock 

 under the massive deck beams of a forecastle that was 

 much bigger than the tiny one he had known in the 

 Pilgrim. Hearing a familiar voice he peered over the 

 edge of the canvas and recognised with a surge of joy 

 the figures of Joseph and Chimoo silhouetted against the 

 light of a lantern standing on the mess table. He tried 

 to lower himself to the deck but fell back when he found 

 that he could not summon the strength. 



At the sound of the boy stirring Joseph arose and came 

 to the side of the hammock. He moved slowly and pain- 

 fully for his limbs were still stiff and sore from the recent 

 ordeal. 



'Hello, Jonathan,' he said, 'how do you feel ?' 



'A little weak, Joseph, I fear. But what of the rest of 

 the crew? Where are they?' 



'They were picked up by boats from other ships. Only 

 Chimoo and ourselves were brought to this vessel.' 



Suddenly Jonathan remembered his diary. 



'My bag, my canvas bag!' he cried anxiously. 'Where 

 is it?' 



'Never fear, Jonathan. When we reached the edge of 

 the ice you took it from the boat and clung to it Uke a 



