CHAPTER XIV
Captain Poke no longer deliberated about the course we were to steer. With his pumpkin for a chart, his instinct for an observation, and his nose for a compass, the sturdy sealer stood boldly to the southward; or, at least, he ran dead before a stiff gale, which, as he more than once affirmed, was as true a norther as if bred and born in the Canadas.
After coursing over the billows at a tremendous rate for a day and a night, the captain appeared on deck, with a face of unusual meaning, and a mind loaded with its own reflections, as was proved by his winking knowingly whenever he delivered himself of a sentiment; a habit that he had most probably contracted, in early youth, at Stunin'tun, for it seemed to be quite as inveterate as it was thoroughbred.
“ We shall soon know,
