CHAPTER XXIIISTILL CRIPPLED
Brannigan and his associates had become extremely anxious because of the absence of the captain of the flying boat and his friends. And when they reappeared at the bottom of the gorge with five of the lost men of whom they had been in search, the mechanicians were inclined to think it almost a miraculous happening.
It was, however, rather a serious occasion. The fact that two of the castaways, as well as thirty thousand dollars in treasure, were utterly lost cast a cloud over all their minds.
Besides, although the mechanicians had repaired the airtight pontoon and rigged it to the end of the seaplane wing again, there was a question in all their minds as to whether the big flying boat could be raised from the bottom of the ice gorge without bringing her into collision again with the walls.
The five new passengers crowded the carrying quarters of the seaplane, too. She had not beenbuilt with the idea of carrying more than twelve people, and now there were sixteen. Tom believed that under a fair test theWinged Arrowwould sail with several tons more weight than she had ever yet carried. But this jump-off was going to be no fair test.
“We’ve got to take a chance,” said the young inventor.
“If only we are successful!” murmured Ned.
When they were all inside and the doors were closed, the young inventor went over the machinery with great care, personally trying out each part. He dared not empty the compressed air tanks, although he would have liked to do that until the plane had risen above the walls of the gorge. The air was needed for balance, however; he was confident of that.
There was not room to turn the plane around as she rested on her wheels and tail, the ice cliffs were too near together; while ahead of her was a very short straight run for her to gain the speed to fly.
It was a ticklish undertaking. If, under the thrust of her powerful motors, she went head on into one wall or the other of the cañon, Tom was pretty sure that theWinged Arrowwould never get out of the heart of this giant iceberg.
“If we leave both the plane and Mr. Damon’s treasure here in the ice, we shall certainly haveto mark this venture down as a total loss,” murmured Tom, to his chum.
“Huh! we won’t mark anything down,” replied Ned. “We will have a hot time ever getting to land. Don’t forget that.”
“I am not likely to overlook it,” confessed the young inventor. “I never had one of my inventions put to so severe a test before. And our lives, you must remember, depend upon the thing working right.”
“Go on. Do your worst,” urged Ned. “If I am to spend the rest of my natural life on this chunk of ice, I want to know it as soon as possible. Let’s get it over.”
Tom would not do a thing in haste, however. Not until he had made sure that the mechanism would work perfectly did he signal Brannigan to start his motors. He stood at the controls until the motors were roaring well before he started the propellers.
The huge boat began to move slowly. Almost at once she lifted under the pressure of the propellers. Her nose came up like the head of a spirited horse. Mr. Wakefield Damon gave voice to one of his excited explosions:
“Bless all my kites and balloons, she’s going up!”
“That’s what we want!” exclaimed Ned. “The higher, the better!”
She was going up! Better than she had ever taken the air before. Everybody in the pilot room broke into a cheer, and Tom Swift was as proud as ever he had felt before in his life over anything he had built.
Put to the severest sort of test, theWinged Arrowwas making good. How proud his father would be when he told him of this jump-off from the bottom of the cleft in the huge iceberg! And Mary! Aside from the exploration party finding and rescuing her father, Tom knew that Mary Nestor would comprehend the feelings of the inventor of the flying boat which had made this success possible.
On a short slant skyward, the plane rose higher and higher. The long Arctic day was just ended, the sun had dropped below the horizon’s edge, and a number of pale stars were showing in the vault above.
The flying boat scaled the heights of the ice cliffs and finally poised over the deep cleft in which they had spent so many uncertain hours. Tom believed that his task here was done. He meant to fly now to Iceland, as he had promised Captain Karofsen, and leave the schooner captain and his men at some handy port.
The young inventor had no intention of being entangled in any plot engendered by the Russian Government or its agents. Let all that be explainedfrom America. He was sure that Monsieur Polansky had never obtained his credentials from the Navy Department by fair means and that there would be no real trouble awaiting him when he got back to Shopton.
He smiled upon Ned, who stood beside him, and began to wheel the flying boat till her nose pointed to the east. Somewhere in that direction—so far away that he could not see it—lay Iceland.
“What is that?” demanded Mr. Wakefield Damon suddenly. “Look at that smoke. Why, you’d think that ice mountain was a crater of a volcano! Bless my smokepipes! it is the equal of old Mount Hekla.”
The phenomenon to which Mr. Damon pointed startled them all. A spiral of smoke seemed to be rising, as he said, out of the higher pinnacle of ice. TheWinged Arrowwas circling that peak. How was it possible for smoke to come out of a hole in the ice when, as far as they knew, there was no living human being on the berg they were leaving?
“Let’s get around to the other side,” cried Ned. “Goodness me! maybe there are other folks cast away here.”
“It nefer isdem?” questioned Captain Olaf Karofsen excitedly.
Tom changed the controls. The great flyingboat heeled over a little as her nose drove into the wind. As she passed out from the shelter of the pinnacle of ice the power of the gale smote upon the seaplane as it had not before. The wind howled and whistled.
Tom signaled to the power room for the compressed air pump to be started again. In this gale he realized the boat would roll, and this was dangerous. She needed more balance-weight.
Again the structure rolled and groaned. Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor cried out. They had not experienced this motion before. TheWinged Arrowcame to an even keel, then once more dipped sideways.
With a crash one wing-end scraped along the hill of ice. The rebound carried the plane away from the wall of ice; but she began to descend, slowly but surely.
Tom speeded up, and the groaning boat shot away from the hillside. Behind them the spiral of smoke came from a cleft into which it had been impossible for any of them to see. The flying boat was flapping downward like a broken-winged bird!
“Are we wrecked? Is it a smash-up?” queried Mr. Nestor anxiously.
“Bless my anchors!” gasped Mr. Damon.
“We’ve got to make a landing,” said Tom, with some show of cheerfulness. “But there isa pretty level field of ice to make it on. I think we shall be all right.”
The next moment the boat was bouncing on its wheels and tail. The power had been shut off. Soon they came to a halt and it was possible to discover how badly the flying boat was damaged, if damaged at all.