"Hope?" said Agnew; "of course. Why not? There are no limits to hope,
are there? One can hope anything anywhere. It is better to die while
struggling like a man, full of hope and energy than to perish in
inaction and despair. It is better to die in the storm and furious
waters than to waste away in this awful place. So come along. Let's
drift as before. Let's see where this channel will take us. It will
certainly take us somewhere. Such a stream as this must have some
outlet."

"This stream," said I, "will take us to death, and death only. The
current grows swifter every hour. I've heard some old yarn of a vast
opening at each of the poles, or one of them, into which the waters of
the ocean pour. They fall into one, and some say they go through and
come out at the other."

Agnew laughed.

"That," said he, "is a madman's dream. In the first place, I don't
believe that we are approaching the south, but the north. The warmth
of the climate here shows that. Yes, we are drawing north. We shall
soon emerge into warm waters and bright skies. So come along, and let
us lose no more time."

I made no further objection. There was nothing else to be done, and
at the very worst we could not be in greater danger while drifting on
than in remaining behind. Soon, therefore, we were again in the boat,
and the current swept us on as before.

The channel now was about four miles wide. On either side arose