dispose of the cargoes now on their way to him from Newfoundland. Who were the capitalists represented by this man, with probably millions of dollars at his command?
There was nothing to show that J. T. Maston and Mrs. Scorbitt had anything to do with the affair. How could it be supposed that they had? They were there, though, but lost in the crowd, and were surrounded by a few of the principal members of the Gun Club, apparently simply as spectators and quite disinterested. William S. Forster seemed to have not the least knowledge of their existence.
As it was impossible to hand round the North Pole for the purposes of examination, a large map of the Arctic regions had been hung behind the auctioneer’s desk. Seventeen degrees above the Arctic Circle a broad red line around the eighty-fourth parallel marked off the portion of the globe which the North Polar Practical Association had brought to the hammer. According to the map, the region was occupied by a sea covered with an ice-cap of considerable thickness. But that was the affair of the purchasers. At least, no one could complain that they had been deceived as to the nature of the goods.
As twelve o’clock struck, the auctioneer, Andrew R. Gilmour, entered by a little door behind his desk. He surveyed the assembly for an instant through his glasses, and then, calling for silence by a tap from his hammer, he addressed the crowd as follows:—
“Gentlemen, I have been instructed by the Federal Government to offer for sale a property situated at the North Pole, bounded by the eighty-fourth parallel of latitude, and consisting of certain continents and seas, either solid or liquid—but which I am not quite sure. Kindly cast your eyes on this map. It has been compiled according to the latest information. You will see that the area is approximately four hundred and seven thousand square miles. To facilitate the sale it has been decided that the biddings for this extensive region shall be made per square mile. You will therefore understand that every cent bid will represent in round numbers 407,000 cents, and every dollar 407,000 dollars. I must ask you to be silent, gentlemen, if you please.”
The appeal was not superfluous, for the impatience of the public was producing a gradually-increasing tumult that would drown the voices of the bidders.
When tolerable quietness had been established thanks to the intervention of Flint, the auctioneer’s porter, who roared like a siren on a foggy day, Gilmour continued—
“Before we begin the biddings, I think it right to remind you of three things. The property has only one boundary, that of the eighty-fourth degree of north latitude. It has a guaranteed title. And it will remain the property of the purchasers, no matter what geographical or meteorological modifications the future may produce.”
Always this curious observation!
“Now, gentlemen,” said Gilmour; “what offers?” and, giving his hammer a preliminary shake, he continued in a vibrating nasal tone, “We will start at ten cents the square mile.”
Ten cents, the tenth of a dollar, meant 40,700 dollars for the lot.
Whether Gilmour had a purchaser at this price or not, the amount was quickly increased by Baldenak.
“Twenty cents!” he said.
“Thirty cents!” said Jansen for the Dutchmen.
“Thirty-five!” said Professor Harald.
“Forty!” said the Russian.
That meant 162,800 dollars, and yet the bidding had only begun. The Canadians had not even opened their mouths. And William S. Forster seemed absorbed in the Newfoundland Mercury.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Gilmour, “any advance on forty cents? Forty cents! Come, the polar cap is worth more than that; it is—”
What he would have added is unknown; perhaps it was, “guaranteed pure ice;” but the Dane interrupted him with—
“Fifty cents!”
Which the Dutchman at once capped with—
“Sixty!”
“Sixty cents the square mile! Any advance on sixty cents?”
These sixty cents made the respectable sum of 244,200 dollars.
At Jansen’s bid, Donellan raised his head and looked at Todrin; but at an almost imperceptible negative sign from him he remained silent.
All that Forster did was to scrawl a few notes on the margin of his newspaper.
“Come, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer; “wake up! Surely you are going to give more than that?”
And the hammer began to move up and down, as if in disgust at the weakness of the bidding.
“Seventy cents!” said Harald, in a voice that trembled a little.
“Eighty cents!” said Karkof, almost in the same breath.
A nod from Todrin woke up the Major, as if he were on springs.
“Hundred cents!” said the Canadian.
That meant 407,000 dollars!
Four hundred and seven thousand dollars! A high price to pay for a collection of icebergs, ice-fields, and ice-floes!
And the representative of the North Polar Practical Association did not even raise his eyes from his newspaper. Had he been instructed not to bid? If he had waited for his competitors to bid their highest, surely the moment had come? In fact, their look of dismay when the Major fired his “hundred cents” showed that they had abandoned the battle.
“A hundred cents the square mile!” said the auctioneer. “Any advance? Is that so? Is that so? No advance?”
And he took a firm grasp on his hammer, and looked round him.
“Once!” he continued. “Twice! Any advance?”
“A hundred and twenty cents!” said Forster, quietly, as he turned over a page of his newspaper.
“And forty!” said the Major.
“And sixty!” drawled Forster.
“And eighty!” drawled the Major, quite as placidly.
“A hundred and ninety!” said Forster.
“And five!” said the Major, as if it were a mere casual observation.
You might have heard an ant walk, a bleak swim, a moth fly, a worm wriggle, or a microbe wag its tail—if it has a tail.
Gilmour allowed a few moments to pass, which seemed like centuries. The consignee of codfish continued reading his newspaper and jotting down figures on the margin which had evidently nothing to do with the matter on hand. Had he reached the length of his tether? Had he made his last bid? Did this price of 195 cents the square mile, or 793,050 dollars for the whole, appear to him to have reached the last limit of absurdity?
“One hundred and ninety-five cents!” said the auctioneer. “Going at one hundred and ninety-five cents!”
And he raised his hammer.
“One hundred
