HOURLY Leslie Ward's and Guy Anderson's chances of being sent back diminished. ThePolarity, forging steadily ahead on a northerly course, never sighted a single sail until in the latitude of Bergen, when she fell in with a Norwegian timber ship, homeward bound.
"There's a chance for you fellows," announced Ranworth, as the two vessels exchanged the customary greetings of the sea. "They'll take you into Bergen, and there you'll be pretty certain to find a British vessel bound for Hull or Grimsby."
"If you don't mind, sir, we'd rather not."
Ranworth whistled.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Apart from the uncertainty of finding a ship——"
"There's still more uncertainty, so far as we are concerned, my lad."
"We don't mind that," Leslie hastened to explain. "Thanks to you, our people know we are safe. I should just love to take part in a Polar expedition."
Leslie spoke with conviction. The possibilities of a voyage to the Arctic appealed to him. Guy was of different mould. Polar research had very little or no interest for him. He could not understand why men should risk their lives and suffer all the hardships of a winter in Polar regions merely for the sake of it.
Often he would argue with his school chums on the subject, his favourite question being, what definite advantage was derived from the fact that explorers had discovered the North and South Poles?
Was the world in general one whit the better when the Yankee Stars and Stripes were planted at the North Pole, and the Norwegian Ensign at the South Pole? Apart from Captain Scott's heroic efforts, were the results of his expedition worth the price in life and money?
Nevertheless, when Leslie had broached the subject of "getting round" Mr. Ranworth and obtaining his permission to accompany the rescue party, Guy offered no objection.
The love of adventure was strong within him. He would have preferred vastly to have beenen routefor a Central African expedition, where territory likely to be of some use was to be explored. Eventually he decided that even the chance of a Polar expedition was better than swotting at a public school, and, after all, there was the voyage out and home to be taken into consideration.
"You may be awfully keen," admitted Ranworth, "but there is another side to the question. When I chartered this vessel and picked my companions, it was with a definite object in view. I had heaps of fellows—friends of mine—offering their services, but I was forced to decline the lot. Every man on board has his particular job. Now, I'll put a blunt question: What special qualifications have each of you that can be usefully employed to further the success of this expedition?"
Leslie and Guy were silent for a few moments.
"I'm a good shot with a rifle," announced Guy.
"We're not likely to fall in with cannibals or Somalis," Ranworth reminded him.
Guy knitted his brows in perplexity. Reduced to rock-bottom level, his qualifications seemed absurdly few.
"Can you cook a meal for twenty men?"
"Might, if it came to a push, sir," replied Guy. "At any rate, I'd have a jolly good shot at it."
"A willing heart goes a long way, my lad," said Ranworth. "Now, Leslie, what are you proficient at?"
"I have a fairly practical knowledge of electric motors," replied the boy.
"Indeed—of what types?" inquired the leader of the rescue party. "You're young to take up that profession; I should have imagined that you were still at school."
"I have to thank my father for that."
"And his name is, I believe, Decimus Ward?"
"How did you know that, sir?" asked Leslie, somewhat astonished.
"That's a secret," replied Ranworth, winking at Guy. "As a matter of fact, he designed the motor-sleigh we have on board."
"Then I do know something of that," declared Leslie. "The pater showed me the plans and explained the details. Of course, he didn't tell me the name of his client."
"You'd like to see the definite result of your father's ingenuity?" asked Ranworth; then, receiving an eager affirmative, he added: "Very well; come along; but before we go below you might ask Mr. Hawke to see me."
Leslie and Guy had already made the acquaintance of Aubrey Hawke, the motor specialist to the expedition. He wasa dapper little manof about thirty. In height he only just came up to Leslie's shoulder, while he turned the scale at eight stone seven pounds. He hadgained considerable fame as an aviator, but owing to an accident he had reluctantly been compelled to give up flying.
Surviving a fall from an aeroplane which would have ended fatally in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, Aubrey Hawke's vitality carried him through a long illness.
One result of the accident was that he was a victim to nervousness, but studiously concealing that failing, he had accepted a post with the Nova Cania rescue expedition in the hope that he might even yet recover his lost nerves.
"I've just discovered an assistant for you, Mr. Hawke," said Ranworth, indicating Leslie. "He's rather keen, I believe, upon electrical matters."
"So I understand," replied Hawke. "We've had one or two confidential chats already."
The motor-sleigh was securely stowed in the main hold, which, like the rest of the interior of thePolarity, was electrically lighted. It was quite unlike the general type of sleigh. It reminded Guy of an engine on the Underground Railway, for outwardly it consisted of a double-ended contrivance, twenty-five feet in length and seven in breadth, with sloping sides and a curved roof.
Round, brass-rimmed scuttles, fitted with thick plate glass, afforded an outlook on all sides, while fore and aft were searchlight projectors, protected from possible damage by massive gunmetal guards.
Above the roof were three metal brackets, forming bearings for a horizontal shaft, which was actuated by a chain driven with the motors. For the present the two aerial propellers were unshipped, in order to be safe from damage caused by the motion of the ship in a heavy sea-way.
The sleigh was intended primarily for use on smooth ice, being designed for a speed of forty miles an hour under the action of the aerial propellers. But since smooth ice is the exception rather than the rule within the Arctic circle, provision had to be made for travelling over rough ground, and possibly open water.
To meet the former case, the motor-sleigh was fitted with four broad wheels. Each fore and aft pair was connected by means of an endless band of phosphor-bronze links, while on the actual face of the chain were affixed broad plates of studded steel, after the manner of Army "Decapod" traction engines.
By an ingenious contrivance, the sleigh-runners could be raised at will, allowing the weight to be taken by the wheels; while, should the contrivance be compelled to cross the open water, the body was made boat-shaped and watertight, a subsidiary driving-chain for the aerial propeller shafting actuating a marine propeller astern.
"Show the way in, Leslie!" exclaimed Ranworth, wishing to put the lad's knowledge to a test. Making his way to the rearmost scuttle on the righthand side, the youth deftly unscrewed the metal rim from its flange. Then, inserting his arm through the opening, his hand came in contact with a lever. This he depressed, with the result that a part of the wall swung open, revealing a doorway of about four feet in height and two in breadth. So well fitted was the door that at a very short distance off it was not possible to detect the seams.
"Good man, Leslie!" exclaimed Ranworth, approvingly. "Now, Guy, in you go; there's plenty of room inside for all."
The interior was lined with wood, a space of four inches separating the inner lining from the outer metalshell. The intervening space was packed with a patent fibre in order to render it so far as possible impervious to the intense cold of the Polar regions. Even the plate glass in the scuttles was duplicated.
Two-thirds of the interior space was devoted to accommodation for passengers and "crew." Aft was the motor-room with its reserve storage batteries, and a bewildering complication of switches and levers.
"We carry a sufficient charge to run continuously for eight days," announced Aubrey Hawke. "If we are longer, then it will be a case of get out and walk, since the sleigh is a little too heavy to push."
"I wonder you didn't have a petrol motor," remarked Guy. "There's room to carry gallons of fuel."
"No, thank you; not for Arctic work," objected Ranworth. "The intense cold does not agree with petrol motors. My brother took an aeroplane with him, but I heard that it was not a success. I had no details, but I should imagine that, apart from engine troubles, an aeroplane within the Arctic circle is at the mercy of the frequent snowstorms. It wouldn't take long for half a ton of snow to accumulate upon the planes, you know. Now I'll leave you two fellows to Hawke's tender mercies. He'll put you up to the practical side of the contrivance, Leslie. Guy can tail on and make himself generally useful. Unless I'm much mistaken, he'll come in jolly handy after all—not necessarily to cook a meal for twenty men," he added with a chuckle.
THEPolaritywas rapidly approaching her destination. Her stokehold staff were working like niggers, while the engineers did their utmost to raise every possible ounce of steam.
However urgent had been the call for aid, that call was now even greater, for on getting within wireless range of Claude Ranworth's apparatus, thePolarity'speople learnt that another misfortune had overtaken the explorers.
In spite of strenuous precautions, the dreaded scurvy had broken out, and five men had already succumbed to its ravages. In addition, nearly all the Esquimaux dogs used for drawing the sleighs had died from some unaccountable reason, and the explorers were compelled to shelter in snow huts at a spot nearly forty-five miles inland from Desolation Inlet.
Already the crew had donned their Arctic clothing, for the temperature was falling rapidly as the vessel reached the high latitudes.
Drifting bergs, some several hundred feet in height, were constantly being met, proving the Norwegian whaler's statement that the ice was breaking up earlier than usual. There was no longer any night. During the whole twenty-four hours of each day the sun was visible, a pale, watery orb in a misty sky.
Just as Captain Stormleigh was congratulating himself upon having made a quick passage, thePolarityencountered a belt of fog. For forty-eight hours it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. Speed had to be reduced to five knots, not on account of the possibility of colliding with other vessels, but with obstructions that are without means of indicating their presence—the dreaded "growlers," or masses of ice showing only a few feet above the surface.
Icebergs, of course, constituted a danger, but their presence can generally be detected by a rapid fall of temperature, and frequently by the cracking and rending of the berg itself.
On the second day of the fog, Leslie and Guy had just gone on board after dinner when they heard the engine-room telegraph-bell ring. Quickly the engines were reversed, the two propellers throwing a cascade of white foam past the entire length of the ship.
For'ard, both the look-out men were shouting at the same moment, with the result that what they said was unintelligible to the officers on the bridge. Then, with a terrific crash, the foremast was shattered twenty feet below the truck, the broken spar with the crow's nest attached to it falling upon the deck, together with a large fragment of ice.
Hearing the crash, but unable to see what had happened owing to the fog, the two lads groped their way for'ard, until their progress was barred by the d�bris of the foremast.
Another grinding sound pierced the veil of mist. ThePolarity, still forging ahead, in spite of the reversed engines, had run into an almost perpendicular wall of ice. Fortunately she carried but little way, otherwise the impact would have stove in her bows. As it was, the shock was sufficient to throw both lads to the deck.
Leslie realised that the ship was in collision, but he was still ignorant of the nature of the obstruction.
The perils of the situation were magnified by the grim nature of the surroundings, for if thePolarityhad sustained a mortal blow the whole of her crew were doomed. It might be possible to take to the boats, but that would only prolong the agony. No human being could survive a lengthy voyage in an open boat in that Arctic weather.
As the lads were picking themselves up, Paul Travers bumped heavily into them. The second officer was on his way for'ard to ascertain the nature of the damage.
"It's all right, sir!" he shouted. "She's not making any water. The stem is twisted a bit, and the bow plates are slightly buckled above the water-line."
Captain Stormleigh heaved a sigh of relief. He was a brave seaman, but the perils of a fog at sea he dreaded, more especially in the present case. Having escaped lightly this time, he decided to back astern for at least a couple of miles and lay to until the fog lifted.
"Berg astern, sir!" shouted one of the seamen, who was stationed right aft.
ThePolarity, having hit a berg when travelling ahead, was now in danger of hitting another when going astern.
Again the telegraph-bell clanged. This time the ship's way was more readily stopped, since her speed astern was barely two knots.
"How's that, Captain Stormleigh?" asked a voice, which Leslie and Guy recognised as that of Mr. Ranworth. "If we are retracing our course, how is it that we missed this berg before?"
"Can't say, sir," replied Captain Stormleigh abruptly.He was but dimly conscious of the question; his whole attention was centred upon the perils that beset him.
Slowly the ship forged ahead, this time circling to starboard. Five minutes later came a warning shout:
"Bergs ahead!"
ThePolarityhad attempted three different courses, and each attempt had been foiled by the presence of ice. Unwittingly she had entered a veritable trap.
"Mr. Travers!" sang out the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Take a cast with the lead."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The second mate called to a seaman, who, armed with the "dipsey"—deep-sea lead—clambered on to the bow bulwark by the main shrouds.
The cast gave bottom at six fathoms.
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Travers. "There ought to be six hundred fathoms at the very least."
"What does it mean?" asked Ranworth, when the second mate had made his report to the bridge.
"Simply that we are inside an iceberg," replied Captain Stormleigh calmly, for now that way was off the ship his anxiety had considerably lessened. "There's a wall of ice on three sides of us at least, since we've sighted it. There's ice under us, otherwise the lead would give a jolly sight more than six fathoms, and there is, or was, ice above us, otherwise we shouldn't have lost part of our foremast."
"What's to be done?" asked Ranworth anxiously.
"Grope our way out—if we can," replied the skipper. "Unless I'm very much mistaken——"
His words were interrupted by a low rumble that quickly increased into a roar like thunder. Almost at the same time the hitherto calm sea was strangelyagitated. A dull shock was distinctly felt under the ship's keel.
"Berg breaking up," remarked Captain Stormleigh, as calmly as possible, yet fear was gripping his mind. He alone knew the danger. ThePolaritywas almost in contact with a mountain of ice, which was on the point of toppling over. Every minute was precious, and a way had yet to be found to extricate the ship from her hazardous position.
Suddenly—owing to the disturbance of the atmosphere caused by the fall of a huge portion of the berg—the fog was riven asunder, and an awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the two lads.
ThePolaritylay in a deep narrow inlet. On three sides rose a continuous wall of ice, terminating three hundred feet above the surface in pinnacles of fantastic shape. From this precipice masses of ice jutted out at varying angles. It was against one of these unstable projections that the foremast of the ship had struck.
The opening by which thePolarityhad, by a pure fluke, entered the ice-incircled inlet was now visible; a gap roughly a hundred yards in width at the surface, and two-thirds of that distance from the nearmost of the opposite peaks. It was this part of the berg that threatened to collapse next. The overlapping mass was groaning ominously. Should a slide occur, thePolaritywould be hopelessly trapped.
Not only was the ship almost surrounded by the berg, but underneath her keel was a ledge of ice that was part and parcel of the floating mountain of frozen water.
Again a terrific crash announced that another fall of the ice had taken place. Evidently the slide was of great size, sufficient to imperil the stability of the whole berg. The waters of the inlet were violently agitatedas the towering mass swayed.
image: 04_wall
image: 04_wall
[Illustration: On three sides rose a continuous wall of ice.To face page 44.]
[Illustration: On three sides rose a continuous wall of ice.To face page 44.]
ThePolarity, lying broadside on and without way, in the trough of the waves, was in danger of being hurled violently upon the jagged cliff of ice.
Captain Stormleigh saw his chance and seized it. His sole hope lay in getting steerage way upon the ship, and making for the narrow outlet to the open sea. Ordering "Easy ahead, both engines," he steadied the vessel on her helm. Beyond the gap, the fog-bank still held as heavily as before. In that pall of vapour other bergs perhaps existed, but in any case it was better to risk the perils of the fog than to be entombed by the overturning of the berg.
Slowly—ever so slowly—thePolaritybegan her bid for safety. There was a possibility that by this time the berg had tilted sufficiently to reduce the depth of water over the "bar" of the inlet, in which case the escape of the ship would be prevented. All, then, that could be done would be to take to the boats on a forlorn and almost hopeless dash for the nearest whaling station.
Wallowing like a porpoise, the staunch ship gradually approached the entrance. On her port side a massive ledge of steel-blue ice jutted fully fifty feet beyond the base of the berg. So insecure did it look that it seemed in momentary danger of breaking away and crashing upon the deck of the vessel. To edge farther away to starboard was impossible, owing to the obvious presence of a ledge of ice a few feet beneath the surface.
Leslie and Guy gazed spellbound as the masthead approached the overhanging ice. It seemed as if the stout spars must crash into the obstruction. Perhaps it was as well that the foremast had been partly carried away, for, as it was, the main truck missed the lower side of the ledge by a few inches.
A few seconds of breathless suspense followed, until thePolaritydrew clear of the supreme danger and entered a wider and less obstructed stretch of water.
Even then the peril was not yet over. Not until the ship was in deep water, and well away from the dangerous berg, could her crew breathe freely.
Fifty yards farther on the vessel's keel grated heavily. She had grounded upon the ice floor of the inlet. Yet her way still carried her forward.
The ice appeared to give under the grinding mass of steam-propelled hull, yet, after scraping along for nearly her own length, thePolaritybegan to hang up. The water was shoaling with considerable rapidity.
In place of the unimpeded motion of the ship in the open sea, was that lifelessness which seamen know and dread. ThePolaritywas no longer water-borne, but on the point of being hard and fast aground.
Captain Stormleigh knew full well that once the ship's way was stopped she would never be able to get off again under her own efforts. He promptly telegraphed below for full speed ahead.
Under the action of the twin screws churning the water to the utmost capacity of the powerful engines, thePolarityscraped and ground her way for another fifty yards. Then, without warning, her bows dipped sharply, her whole fabric seemed to tremble as if on a balance, and, gliding with quickened pace, she slid into deep water.
"Look!" exclaimed Guy to his chum, as thePolaritydrew away from the dangerous iceberg.
He pointed to a gently shelving part of the ice-mountain quite two hundred feet above the sea. On it was a large polar bear, standing with paws outstretched and neck extended as rigid as a marble statue.
"It's dead!" declared Leslie. "Frozen to death, by the look of it. I wonder how it got on the berg?"
"No fear, it's not dead!" said his companion. "You can just——"
The sentence was interrupted by a warning shout from some of the crew. The whole berg was in the act of toppling over.
Silently at first the mountainous mass of ice began to tilt. Then, amid an ever-increasing roar of the agitated water and the crash of detached pieces of the berg, the list grew more and more.
Even now it was a race between the toppling cliffs of ice and the ship, for the latter had not put a safe distance between herself and the berg.
The lads, even in the midst of this new peril, could see the now aroused bear, striving to run up the steeply shelving ice wall which a few moments previously had been almost level.
For a few yards the animal made good progress, then its massive paws began to slip. Struggling in vain for a foothold, the bear slid backwards with increasing speed till, like a stone shot from a catapult, its huge body was flung over the edge of the precipice, to disappear in a moment beneath the foam-crested waves.
The noise of the collapsing berg grew till it rivalled the crash of thunder. The sea, thrashed by huge fragments of dislodged ice, many of them forming small bergs, was churned into a heavy mass of foam.
ThePolaritywon the race by barely her own length as the topmost pinnacle of the iceberg struck the sea.
"Hold on, men!" roared Captain Stormleigh.
But his voice could not be heard owing to the ear-splitting crashes. Nevertheless, all hands clung on likegrim death as a cascade of water, topped by a fringe of foam, burst over the vessel's stern.
Clinging desperately to a life-rail, Leslie and Guy thought that thePolaritywas doomed.
Buried ten feet below the waves of icy water, and almost torn from their hold, they knew not whether the vessel were plunging to the bottom or otherwise. Both lads were seized by a frantic desire to release their grasp and strike out for the surface. The water trickled down their mouths and nostrils, its very coldness lacerating their throats and causing them intense pain.
Then, as suddenly as they had been overwhelmed, the rush of water subsided, as thePolaritygamely shook herself clear of the giant wave.
Gasping for breath, Leslie took in the scene of confusion. Guy was sprawling on the deck, his hands still grasping a massive belaying-pin in the life-rail. To leeward, the water was pouring in eddying torrents through the scuppers, where five or six of the crew, swept across the deck, were lying in a struggling heap.
Amidships, about ten feet of the bulwarks had been carried away, while the two quarter-boats had been hurled from the davits and smashed to splinters against the battered engine-room hatchway.
Another and yet another wave followed in quick succession, each smaller than the one preceding, and although thePolaritywas tossed like a cork, very little water broke on deck.
"Any men lost?" shouted Captain Stormleigh, after the immediate danger was over.
"No, sir," replied Travers. "Bill Smith has fractured his thigh, and there are a few minor injuries."
"We've come out of it lightly, then," rejoined the skipper, "thanks to a merciful Providence."
"We have," agreed Ranworth; then, unbuttoning his fur coat and consulting his watch, he added: "And six precious hours wasted!"
FORTUNATELY, there was spare clothing in plenty on board, and without delay all the officers and crew who had been on deck during the avalanche of water were able to change into dry kit.
For another three hours Captain Stormleigh kept thePolarityon a due easterly course, literally groping his way through the fog-bank.
Beyond glancing gently against an occasional growler, the ship escaped serious collision, and when the fog lifted an expanse of open water lay in front of her. Away, broad on the port beam, could be discerned the rugged outline of the giant berg which had so nearly proved to be the tomb of thePolarityand her crew.
"Five miles in length, and two hundred feet in height, at the very least," declared Travers.
"What causes an iceberg to form?" asked Guy.
"It's the seaward end of a glacier," replied the second mate. "Every year, as the temperature rises a few degrees, the mighty glaciers of the Arctic rid themselves of a few cubic miles of ice. These bergs, once they are afloat, drift southwards, gradually diminishing and toppling over, until they melt away."
"What causes them to topple?" asked Guy. "I know that, roughly, six-sevenths of a mass of floating ice is beneath the surface. It seems a lot to capsize."
"Normally six-sevenths of the bulk of a berg is underneath the surface," replied the second mate. "We may take it for granted that yonder berg is, since it has only recently taken up its present position. In that case, the berg is at least a quarter of a mile in depth. But the ice is constantly thawing in the water, although the part exposed to the air may not be. Consequently the melting process underneath proceeds until the berg becomes top-heavy, and then—well, you have just seen that specimen do a somersault."
For the next five or six hours all hands were kept busily employed in making good the damage which had been done by the destructive wave.
The crow's nest, which had marvellously escaped injury when the foremast was fractured, was again sent aloft, this time on the mainmast. The broken foremast was sawn through a couple of feet below the jagged end, and new preventer shrouds set up.
The wireless aerials, which had been carried away at the same time as the crow's nest, were placed in position again. The bulwarks were roughly repaired by bolting fir planks across the gap.
Unfortunately, the two smashed boats could not be replaced, and the only wooden ones remaining were two heavy cutters carried on deck amidships. There were also two double-ended, collapsible canvas boats, double-skinned, and, so long as the canvas remained intact, unsinkable. For use in open water these boats were invaluable, but there was always a danger of ripping the canvas on the sharp edges of the floating ice.
At "midnight," Captain Stormleigh made a solar observation, and announced that thePolaritywas sixty miles S.S.E. of Desolation Inlet. Unless unforeseen circumstances arose, the relief expedition ought to be at the anchorage by six in the morning.
Unfortunately, the vessel encountered pack-ice—a desolate plain of bluish-grey ice, which had only partly melted, and moved southward in the form of "growlers," and drift ice.
"Rough luck, this, sir," commented Captain Stormleigh.
Ranworth shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"We must force a passage," he said.
"We'll try, sir," replied the captain. "There is always a danger of being caught in a southerly gale, and the oldPolaritywouldn't be worth much jammed up in a lot of heavy ice. Still, I'm willing to take the risk."
"Very good," assented Ranworth. "What do you propose to do?"
"Keep her at it as long as she carries way. The ice may be fairly thin, and there's every likelihood of its breaking up. If we can't force a passage that way, we'll have to blow up the ice and form a channel. Ten to one the pack isn't very broad."
"But if it extends for miles?" asked Ranworth.
"We'll have to anchor the ship in the ice and make a start with the sleigh, sir. By the time the expedition is ready to return, the ice may have broken up."
"That seems the only way," agreed the leader of the expedition. "I'll warn Hawke to get the sleigh ready for action."
Upon nearing the pack, thePolaritystopped her engines. One of the canvas boats was manned and lowered, and rowed towards the edge of the ice. On returning, the officer in charge reported that the ice was "rotten," and capable of being broken by the impact of the ship's bows.
Gathering way, the staunch vessel charged the glacial barrier. Right and left, as her steel-protected bowsheared through the obstruction, fragments of ice cracked and flew in glittering showers.
For nearly a mile thePolarityforced her way, then, with unpleasant suddenness, she came to a standstill.
"The hummocks are too much for her," declared Captain Stormleigh, and, hailing the crow's nest, he asked for a report of the ice-field ahead.
"Same as it is here for a couple of miles or so, sir," replied the look-out man. "But there's open water beyond."
Calling to Travers, the captain ordered him to take a couple of reliable men and fetch some dynamite cartridges from the magazine. The rest of the crew were told off to provide themselves with axes, crowbars, and augers, in order to cut holes in the ice for the reception of the explosives.
"Would you like to have a run on the ice—I was just going to say ashore?" asked Ranworth, addressing Leslie and Guy. "Aubrey Hawke is going to test one of the small motor-sleighs, so you can go with him if you like."
The two lads were only too pleased at the opportunity. Warmly clad in furs, with their feet incased in fur-lined knee-boots, and wearing goggles to protect the eyes from snow-blindness, they lowered themselves over the side of the ship and gained the ice.
IT was not long before the motor-sleigh was slung outboard by means of a derrick. It was a comparatively light affair, to be used in connection with the base camp. In appearance it strongly resembled the usual Arctic type of sleigh, only instead of being drawn by a team of dogs, it was propelled by an aerial propeller actuated by a four-cylinder petrol motor.
"May as well take my rifle," explained Aubrey Hawke, the engineer, as he placed a fur-lined bundle in the sleigh. "We may get a chance of shooting something."
"Why have you wrapped it up like a mummy?" asked Guy.
"To save my fingers from being burnt," replied Hawke. Then, seeing the look of incredulity on the lads' faces, he added: "It stands to reason a fellow can't press a trigger when his fingers are muffled in fur gloves. If you were to take off your gloves and touch any metal object you would find that the intense cold would cause the metal to act in much the same way as if it were quite hot. It would probably peel the skin from your fingers. Stow the rifle under the seat, Guy; Leslie, you sit immediately in front of me. I'll let you take the tiller after I've got the hang of it."
The sleigh was a three-seater, with a propeller of thetractor type, the blades being protected by steel guards which would not only serve to prevent damage to them in the event of a capsize, but also obviate any chance of the passengers being struck by the whirling propeller. Steering was effected by a short steel runner with a razor-like edge. To the rudder was affixed a short, massive tiller of ash.
"This is a sort of preliminary canter before we start with the giant sleigh," explained Aubrey Hawke. "Hitherto I've had no experience in guiding a mechanically propelled sleigh, and I reckon it will take a bit of practice. Lie low, both of you, and keep your hoods well over your faces."
The lads did as they were directed, while Hawke, making his way to the front of the sleigh, prepared to start the motor. This he did by swinging the propeller, which made Guy wonder what would happen when the thing did start.
Would Hawke be in time to regain his seat before the sleigh darted off at forty miles an hour?
The motor was most refractory. Owing to the intense cold, the oil in the cylinders had frozen, but after a considerable amount of energy had been expended in swinging the engine, the petrol fired merrily. Yet the sleigh, beyond quivering under the vibration of the engine, made no attempt to move.
Almost leisurely Hawke strolled back to his seat, and having carefully adjusted his wrappings, touched several levers operating the controls.
Quickly the revolutions of the propeller increased, until the noise seemed deafening. With a jerk which almost threw the lads backward, the sleigh started, and soon attained a speed of forty miles an hour.
Three minutes were sufficient to bring the sleigh tothe farthermost limits of the ice floe, then, slowing down, Hawke made a cautious turn to the left. Even then the left-hand runner rose quite two feet in the air, the tilt of the sleigh threatening to throw the crew upon the ice.
Once more on the straight, Hawke opened the throttle "all out." Like an object endowed with life, the sleigh bounded forward. Rifts in the ice it made light of, literally skimming across the deep yet narrow crevices. Hummocks of medium size it leapt at, surmounted, and, with hardly a perceptible jar, alighted upon smooth ice beyond. The only thing lacking was, in Leslie's opinion, the promised chance of steering the swiftly-moving and novel vehicle.
Suddenly Hawke throttled down and switched off the motor. Carried onwards by its own momentum, the sleigh travelled nearly two hundred yards before the pace appeared to diminish appreciably. It was a glide in glorious silence, compared with the roar of the propellers and the explosions of the engines. Only the sharp swish as the keen runners cut the ice and broke the stillness.
"A big hummock ahead," remarked Hawke, pointing to a rounded hill of ice. "It's too much for us to tackle in this affair. The big sleigh would simply do it as easy as winking. We'll pull up here and have a brisk walk. My limbs are half-frozen already."
Nothing loth, Leslie and Guy alighted, and began to stamp and swing their arms vigorously. Aubrey Hawke, picking up his rifle, gave the word, and the three set off briskly across the ice.
"This must be the end of the floe," declared Hawke. "See how the ice is piled up in great slabs. Evidently there has been a gale, and that accounts for the grotesque formation of this part of the ice. Be careful,it will be much more slippery. You two follow me, and look where you're treading."
image: 05_huge
image: 05_huge
[Illustration: A huge polar bear standing on its hind legs.To face page 57.]
[Illustration: A huge polar bear standing on its hind legs.To face page 57.]
For about a hundred yards the party threaded their way between huge, frozen slabs of water, until their progress was barred by a steep wall of semi-transparent ice.
"Nothing doing this way," said Guy.
"Isn't everything still?" remarked Leslie.
The remark was justifiable. The solitude of the Arctic was most impressive. Not a living creature except the three human beings was to be seen. The absence of beast and bird seemed the strange part of the business. It was a land of utter solitude.
"Best make our way back," suggested Hawke. "I don't want the motor to be 'gummed' up again. The cold is almost enough to fracture the cylinders. And, hang it, why did I trouble to bring this rifle with me?"
"I'll carry it back to the sleigh," offered Leslie.
"Right-o; mind you don't drop it," cautioned Hawke, handing the fur-encased weapon to the lad. "We'll work round to the right. It looks easier going. That's the hummock we have to make for."
A short distance farther on their progress was impeded by two slabs of ice that met in the form of a V-shaped arch, leaving a space just sufficient for a man to crawl through.
With very little difficulty Hawke negotiated the obstacle. Leslie, the next to follow, had more trouble, for in bulk he could give the former several inches. Just as the youth was regaining his feet, he was astonished to hear Hawke give a warning shout, which was immediately followed by a deep growl.
Within twenty feet of the natural archway was a huge Polar bear. It was standing on its hind legs, and wavingits front paws menacingly, while its open jaws revealed two truly formidable rows of teeth. From its mouth its breath issued in a dense cloud of vapour, which reminded Leslie of the dragons of his early days.
"My rifle," shouted Hawke.
Leslie held up the roll of furs containing the weapon. Hawke wheeled to wrest it from its coverings, but directly his back was turned the bear shuffled at a great pace towards him—nine feet of ferocity.
While Hawke was still struggling to disengage his rifle, the animal struck him a violent buffet with one of its fore-paws. The force of the blow sent the man reeling against the wall of ice, while the rifle fell from his nerveless grasp. The fierce onslaught had broken Hawke's left arm.
The next instant the bear had him in his powerful embrace. Growling savagely, yet making no attempt to bite, the animal was proceeding to crush the life out of the luckless man.
Leslie's first instinct was to seek safety in flight, but the desire for self-preservation was only momentary. Scrambling over the rough ice, he drew off his cumbersome gloves, secured the rifle, then, awaiting a favourable opportunity so that he could fire without hitting his comrade, he pressed the trigger.
A sharp click was the only response. Either the cartridge was defective or the weapon was unloaded. Fortunately Leslie was no fool with firearms. He understood the mechanism perfectly. He jerked back the bolt. No cartridge flew from the open breech. The rifle had not been loaded. Hawke, for some unknown reason, had omitted to Be Prepared, and he was even now paying the penalty.
"Where are the cartridges?" shouted the lads in desperation.
Hawke's stifled reply was completely out-voiced by a deep growl from the bear, the pressure of whose enormous and powerful paws was already telling upon its victim.
"The cartridges, man; where are the cartridges?" repeated the lad, in his anxiety getting almost within reach of the terrible bear.
"My pocket," gasped Hawke. "Be quick, for the love of Heaven."
Regardless of the risk, Leslie plunged one hand into the pocket of Hawke's fur coat. His fingers came in contact with the metal cylinders. Even as he did so, he felt a violent blow on the side of his head that sent his fur hood flying a dozen yards. The bear had struck him with terrible force, its cruel talons missing him by the fraction of an inch.
It was then that Guy, who had taken some time to scramble through the arch of ice, threw himself into the fray. Armed only with a short knife, he plunged the blade again and again into the animal's side. Maddened, but not mortally wounded, the animal dropped its first victim and transferred its attention to its second assailant.
Pinned by the bear's fierce grip, Guy was lifted completely off his feet. His knife fell from his grasp. He could feel the brute's hot, sickly breath as it alternately growled and howled with fury and pain.
Rapidly, yet without fumbling, Leslie thrust a cartridge into the rifle. Stepping up till the muzzle almost touched the animal's ear he fired. The small calibre bullet fired at close range was as destructive in its effect as a dum-dum. The bear, making a convulsive movement that very nearly finished Guy's career, toppled heavily upon the ice.
Reloading the rifle, in order to Be Prepared forsimilar surprises, Leslie laid the weapon on the ice and devoted his immediate attention to the now unconscious Aubrey Hawke.
It was then that the lad was first aware of the practical reason for Hawke's warning, for in the excitement of the contest he had handled the rifle with ungloved hands. His finger tips and the palm of his right hand were a mass of small blisters.
"I can't leave him there; he'll be frozen to death," thought Leslie, manfully striving, in spite of the intense pain in his hands, to lift the helpless man.
"Guy," he shouted. "Come and bear a hand."
Guy Anderson, although considerably shaken in the encounter, came to his assistance, but owing to the incumbrance of their thick clothing and the weight of their injured comrade, their combined efforts failed to move Hawke for more than a few yards. They were quite a quarter of a mile from the sleigh.
"Cut back to the ship and get help," suggested Guy. "You may be able to get the sleigh going. I'll stay here."
Leslie shook his head.
"It's too jolly cold to leave Hawke here," he objected. "If there were any snow, I'd bury him in it and risk it. No; we must get back."
"I have it!" exclaimed Guy. "We'll have to drag him back to the sleigh. Tie his wrists together so that his arms won't come in contact with the rough ice. His fur coat will protect his back."
The unconscious man's wrists were secured by means of a muffler, while the rifle sling was passed round his ankles as a very rough and ready drag-rope. Guy, carrying the rifle in his left hand, grasped the sling with his right, while Leslie also laid hold with his left. Stumbling and slipping over the ice, the two lads made theirway back to the sleigh, dragging their human burden behind them.
"That's good!" ejaculated Leslie, as Hawke was propped up on the middle seat. "Now comes the tricky business; suppose I can't get the motor to start—what happens then?"