"WHERE are we now?" asked Oswald Detroit, emerging from the cabin of the _Diomeda_. "Ask me another," replied his chum, Jack Hamerton, with a merry laugh. "We may be here, we may be there, for all I know. One thing I am certain of: I have just hove the lead, and found that we are in twenty-two fathoms, with a gravelly bottom. That's good enough for me. Also, by dead reckoning, we are three hundred and seventy-eight miles from Lowestoft, and I can't take an observation because of this fog."…
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