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Crew, provisions, and cargo were ready by January, 1860; the Forward began to look shipshape, and Shandon went daily to Birkenhead. On the morning of the 23rd of January he was, as usual, on board one of the Mersey ferryboats with a helm at either end to prevent having to turn it; there was a thick fog, and the sailors of the river were obliged to direct their course by means of the compass, though the passage lasts scarcely ten minutes. But the thickness of the fog did not prevent Shandon seeing a man of short stature, rather fat, with an intelligent and merry face and an amiable look, who came up to him, took him by the two hands, and shook them with an ardour, a petulance, and a familiarity “quite meridional,” as a Frenchman would have said. But if this person did not come from the South, he had got his temperament there; he talked and gesticulated with volubility; his thought must come out or the machine would burst. His eyes, small as those of witty men generally are, his mouth, large and mobile, were safety-pipes which allowed him to give passage to his overflowing thoughts; he talked, and talked, and talked so much and so fast that Shandon couldn’t understand a word he said. However, this did not prevent the Forward’s mate from recognising the little man he had never seen before; a lightning flash traversed his mind, and when the other paused to take breath, Shandon made haste to get out the words, “Doctor Clawbonny!”

“Himself in person, commander! I’ve been at least half a quarter of an hour looking for you, asking everybody everywhere! Just think how impatient I got; five minutes more and I should have lost my head! And so you are the commander Richard? You really exist? You are not a myth? Your hand, your hand! I want to shake it again. It is Richard Shandon’s hand, and if there is a commander Shandon, there’s a brig Forward to command; and if he commands he will start, and if he starts he’ll take Dr. Clawbonny on board.”

“Well, yes, doctor, I am Richard Shandon; there is a brig Forward , and it will start.”

“That’s logic,” answered the doctor, after taking in a large provision of breathing air—“that’s logic. And I am ready to jump for joy at having my dearest wishes gratified. I’ve wanted to undertake such a voyage. Now with you, commander–-“

“I don’t–-” began Shandon.

“With you,” continued Clawbonny, without hearing him, “we are sure to go far and not to draw back for a trifle.”

“But–-” began Shandon again.

“For you have shown what you are made of, commander; I know your deeds of service. You are a fine sailor!”

“If you will allow me–-“

“No, I won’t have your bravery, audacity, and skill put an instant in doubt, even by you! The captain who chose you for his mate is a man who knows what he’s about, I can tell you.”

“But that’s nothing to do with it,” said Shandon, impatient.

“What is it, then? Don’t keep me in suspense another minute.”

“You don’t give me time to speak. Tell me, if you please, doctor, how it comes that you are to take part in the expedition of the Forward .”

“Read this letter, this worthy letter, the letter of a brave captain—very laconic, but quite sufficient.”

Saying which the doctor held out the following letter to Shandon:—

“INVERNESS,

“Jan. 22nd, 1860.

“To Dr. Clawbonny.

“If Dr. Clawbonny wishes to embark on board the Forward for a long cruise, he may introduce himself to the commander, Richard Shandon, who has received orders concerning him.

“THE CAPTAIN OF THE ‘FORWARD,’

“K. Z.”

“This letter reached me this morning, and here I am, ready to embark.”

“But, doctor, do you know where we are going to?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, and I do not care so that it is somewhere. They pretend that I am learned; they are mistaken, commander. I know nothing, and if I have published a few books that don’t sell badly, I ought not to have done it; the public is silly for buying them. I know nothing, I tell you. I am only an ignorant man. When I have the offer of completing, or rather of going over again, my knowledge of medicine, surgery, history, geography, botany, mineralogy, conchology, geodesy, chemistry, natural philosophy, mechanics, and hydrography, why I accept, of course.”

“Then,” said Shandon, disappointed, “you do not know where the Forward is bound for?”

“Yes, I do; it is bound for where there is something to learn, to discover, and to compare—where we shall meet with other customs, other countries, other nations, to study in the exercise of their functions; it is going, in short, where I have never been.”

“But I want to know something more definite than that,” cried Shandon.

“Well, I have heard that we are bound for the Northern Seas.”

“At least,” asked Shandon, “you know the captain?”

“Not the least bit in the world! But he is an honest fellow, you may believe me.”

The commander and the doctor disembarked at Birkenhead; the former told the doctor all he knew about the situation of things, and the mystery inflamed the imagination of the doctor. The sight of the brig caused him transports of joy. From that day he stopped with Shandon, and went every day to pay a visit to the shell of the Forward . Besides, he was specially appointed to overlook the installation of the ship’s medicine-chest. For Dr. Clawbonny was a doctor, and a good one, though practising little. At the age of twenty-five he was an ordinary practitioner; at the age of forty he was a savant , well known in the town; he was an influential member of all the literary and scientific institutions of Liverpool. His fortune allowed him to distribute counsels which were none the worse for being gratuitous; beloved as a man eminently lovable must always be, he had never wronged any one, not even himself; lively and talkative, he carried his heart in his hand, and put his hand into that of everybody. When it was known in Liverpool that he was going to embark on board the Forward his friends did all they could to dissuade him, and only fixed him more completely in his determination, and when the doctor was determined to do anything no one could prevent him. From that time the suppositions and apprehensions increased, but did not prevent the Forward being launched on the 5th of February, 1860. Two months later she was ready to put to sea. On the 15th of March, as the letter of the captain had announced, a dog of Danish breed was sent by railway from Edinburgh to Liverpool, addressed to Richard Shandon. The animal seemed surly, peevish, and even sinister, with quite a singular look in his eyes. The name of the Forward was engraved on his brass collar. The commander installed it on board the same day, and acknowledged its reception to K. Z. at Leghorn. Thus, with the exception of the captain, the crew was complete. It was composed as follows:—

1. K. Z., captain; 2. Richard Shandon, commander; 3. James Wall, third officer; 4. Dr. Clawbonny; 5. Johnson, boatswain; 6. Simpson, harpooner; 7. Bell, carpenter; 8. Brunton, chief engineer; 9. Plover, second engineer; 10. Strong (negro), cook; 11. Foker, ice-master; 12. Wolsten, smith; 13. Bolton, sailor; 14. Garry, sailor; 15. Clifton, sailor; 16. Gripper, sailor; 17. Pen, sailor; 18. Warren, stoker.

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The day of departure arrived with the 5th of April. The admission of the doctor on board had given the crew more confidence. They knew that where the worthy doctor went they could follow. However, the sailors were still uneasy, and Shandon, fearing that some of them would desert, wished to be off. With the coast out of sight, they would make up their mind to the inevitable.