THE NORTH POLE.
AT the twenty-third hour after leaving Portsmouth the "Meteor" came
to rest on the ice under the lee of Cape Columbia and within three
hundred yards of the "New Resolute," the ship of the British Arctic
Expedition.
News of the airship's approach had already been communicated by
wireless, and as she gracefully settled upon the ice she was greeted
by three tremendous cheers from the crew of the ship.
But Dacres knew nothing of this. As soon as Cape Columbia had been
sighted he went to his cabin to snatch a few hours' well-earned and
needed sleep. For the time being his responsibility was not in
request.
Compared with the severity of the climate above the Greenland plateau
the temperature at Cape Columbia was milder. The "New Resolute,"
although moored to the ice, was still afloat, and sheltered from all
gales by the land-locked harbour.
From the captain the "Meteor's" people soon had a fairly definite
idea of the state of affairs.
Lieutenant Cardyke, with four men, had pushed on towards the pole,
the party being accompanied by thirty-two Esquimo dogs. A portable
wireless installation had been taken, so that the progress and
welfare of the expedition could be communicated to the base.
Favoured by fine weather Cardyke and his companions made rapid
progress compared with the distance covered by previous Arctic
explorers. They reported that the hummocks gave considerable trouble,
but there was no sign of open water.
Then with startling suddenness all wireless communication was broken
off. A rescue party immediately set off, only to find that at a point
150 miles north of Cape Columbia their progress was checked by an
expanse of open, agitated sea that had been formed by the separation
of the ice-fields since Cardyke had traversed them. Reluctantly the
second party had to turn back, and were almost hourly expected by the
"New Resolute."
The "Meteor" did not wait long at Cape Columbia. Having secured the
services of two junior lieutenants to assist in the navigation of the
airship, Whittinghame started on the 500 mile journey to the North
Pole.
Greatly to the relief of all on board, the motors began to work
without the faintest hitch. The cordite fired at once. Had petrol
been the fuel it was quite possible that the low temperature would
have greatly diminished its efficacy. Parsons was most enthusiastic
over the matter. Although at first dubious about substituting cordite
for petrol he was now firmly convinced that a perfect ignition charge
had been found.
Within half an hour after leaving Cape Columbia the "Meteor" passed
over the relief party, who were dejectedly making their way back to
the ship. A greater contrast would be difficult to find: the airship
cutting rapidly and evenly through the air at three miles a minute;
and half a dozen men, looking more like bundles of fur, plodding
painfully along, glad to be able to cover two miles an hour. Even the
dogs seemed to share their masters' dejection. Yet failure of the
rescue party did not prevent them from waving their arms to the
fleeting airship, a compliment that the "Meteor," by reason of her
speed, was unable to return.
When at length Dacres awoke he knew by the motion of the airship that
the "Meteor" was again under way. Quickly he made his way for'ard, to
find two strangers in charge of the navigation room.
"It's all right," said Whittinghame genially. "There's no slur upon
your prowess as a navigation officer, Dacres. We've obtained reliefs
for you. Allow me to introduce Mr. Quinton and Mr. Baskett to you."
Armed with powerful binoculars Whittinghame and his assistants swept
the snow-field. According to the opinion of the "New Resolute's"
officers the airship was now fairly close to the spot where Cardyke
was last heard of. There was nothing to indicate the tracks of the
sledges; a recent fall of snow had accounted for that. All they could
hope to do was to pick out some outstanding object, such as a tent or
a snow hut, where the young officer and his four men might be
sheltering.
Speed had been reduced to fifty miles an hour, while frequently the
"Meteor" made a deviation in order to give the look-out an
opportunity to examine a dark patch upon the white waste. Invariably
the patch turned out to be the shadow of a hammock cast by the
slanting rays of the ever-present sun, till Dr. Hambrough called his
companions' attention to a dark speck away on the starboard bow.
Round swung the "Meteor," the eyes of the watchers riveted on a
fluttering object that rapidly resolved itself into a flag. More, the
flag was a Union Jack. Close to it, and hitherto invisible, was a
rounded hut made of blocks of ice, and half-buried in the snow.
"There they are!" exclaimed Setchell excitedly.
"I'm afraid not," said Lieutenant Baskett. "I can see no signs of
their skis or of the sledges. But we're on their track, that's one
blessing."
Again the "Meteor" descended. Whittinghame would not run the risk of
detaching one of the compartments, especially as there was abundant
room for the whole length of the airship to settle evenly. Her
anchors held admirably in the rough ice, and with hardly a tremor she
brought up on terra firma.
Quickly the entry port was opened and the rope-ladder dropped.
Whittinghame was the first to land, quickly followed by Dacres and
the two naval lieutenants.
With beating hearts they made their way over the ice and snow till
they gained the hut, the four men gravely saluting the national flag
as they passed by.
The doorway of the ice-hut had been blocked up--not by drifting snow
but by human hands. Whether this had been done from the inside or
from without could not at present be determined. The ice was as hard
as iron.
In response to a signal to the "Meteor," three of the crew came up
with ice-axes and shovels, and began a fierce attack upon the door.
When the obstruction was removed the Captain entered.
His fears were realized. The hut was empty.
"Here's a tin containing some documents," he announced. "By Jove!
Cardyke claims that this is the North Pole."
"He can't be so very far out," said Lieutenant Quinton. "Does he say
anything about the route?"
"No, only that he is returning after verifying his position, and asks
that the finder of the document should transmit it, if possible, to
the Admiralty."
"Run and fetch my sextant, Williamson," said Dacres.
"And mine," added Baskett.
Before the men could return Whittinghame pointed to a staff
projecting a few inches from the ground. Attached to it were the
fragments of a flag, and by dint of removing a couple of feet of snow
the nationality of the flag became obvious. It had been the Stars and
Stripes.
"Peary's flag, by Jove!" ejaculated Whittinghame. "All honour,
gentlemen, to that intrepid American. Even if an Englishman were not
the first to plant his country's flag at the North Pole there is no
little consolation to be derived from the fact that an Anglo-Saxon
established the priority."
When Williamson returned with the instruments the two officers made
careful separate observations, afterwards checking each other's
figures. There was no mistake. The rescue party was standing on the
northern extremity of the Earth's axis.
"Well, this won't find Cardyke, gentlemen," said Whittinghame
sharply, breaking in upon the reveries of his companions. "What do
you propose to do? Return by a slightly different route?"
"Supposing Cardyke and his party are incapable of finding their way.
They might be partially exhausted by their exertions and have
blundered in a totally different direction," suggested Baskett.
"Such an instance is not unknown," added Quinton.
"Then I propose to make several ever-widening circles. We ought to
command a field extending twenty-five miles from the Pole. Let us
return to the 'Meteor.'"
Rising to a height of five hundred feet the airship began to circle.
In five minutes she had passed through every one of the three hundred
and sixty degrees of longitude.
Miles of dreary waste lay beneath them. There was nothing to mark the
position of the North Pole save the almost invisible hut and two
flags, and nothing to break the horizon where the white plain merged
into the pale blue of the Arctic sky.
Presently Dacres discovered signs of open water. A broad sea, its
coast-line extending through a hundred and eighty degrees of
longitude, proved conclusively that Cardyke could not have blundered
far in that direction. It was fairly evident the five men had
retraced their steps. The question that puzzled Whittinghame was, how
could the "Meteor" have missed the party on its flight to the Pole?
"We'll make our way back," he announced. "By keeping a zig-zag course
we ought to come across some traces of them. Fifteen miles to the
right and left of their supposed route ought to be ample."
To this the two naval officers agreed; but as the vertical rudders
were being put hard over, Dacres called the Captain's attention to a
dark object in a hollow at less than two miles off.
"It's far too large for a tent, Dacres," said Whittinghame. "But we
may as well investigate. To me it looks like a----yes, by George, it
is! It's a derelict balloon."
"André!" exclaimed Baskett.
"I think you are right," said Whittinghame.
"Yes, it has been a balloon. There is the car, half-buried in snow.
Evidently in strong winds the snow-drifts are uncovered, or otherwise
in twenty years the remains would be buried fathoms deep."
"Are you going to investigate, sir?" asked Dr. Hambrough.
"Much as I should like to," replied Whittinghame gravely, "I must
decline. The claims of those who may yet be living are more pressing
than those of the gallant dead. Perhaps, another time----"
He broke off abruptly to conceal his emotion, then having steadied
the "Meteor" on her course, he relinquished the navigation into the
hands of his able assistants.
For a long time no word was spoken. The memories of that mournful
wreck deeply affected the spirits of the intrepid rescuers. They felt
the irony of the situation, for had the gallant Frenchman delayed his
ill-fated aerial voyage but a few years he might have been able to
have made good use of a dirigible instead of drifting helplessly to
his doom amid the awful solitudes of the Arctic.
Zig-zagging against the wind after the manner of a sailing-ship
tacking, the "Meteor" resumed her quest. Two hours passed without
result. The airship was now almost within sight of the newly-opened
sea caused by the breaking up of the ice-floes.
The crew were almost despairing of success, for twice the supposed
route of Cardyke's party had been examined. The Lieutenant and his
men had left the Pole: they could not cross the barrier formed by the
open sea. Where had they gone? Had they been buried beneath an almost
irresistible blizzard? To add to the difficulties of the look-out,
the sun was shining almost into the men's eyes, while an enormous
tract of snow was covered by the reflected glare.
"We'll carry on till we are above the end of the pack-ice," said
Whittinghame. "Then, if we haven't sighted them, we'll turn again and
go back to the Pole. It is just possible----"
"What's that, sir?" interrupted Hambrough, his usually quiet manner
giving place to intense excitability. "See! almost beneath us!"
In another fifteen seconds the "Meteor" would have overshot the mark.
Signalling full speed astern, Whittinghame kept the spot indicated by
the doctor under observation.
Five hundred feet below was a small black patch. It seemed so
insignificant that it resembled a fur cap accidently dropped upon
that trackless waste.
Under the retarding influence of the propellors the airship trembled
so violently that it was almost an impossibility to bring glasses to
bear upon the desired object, but when the "Meteor" lost way and
orders had been given to the engineers to stop the motors, the
occupants of the navigation-room were able to examine the solitary
relic.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Dacres. "It's a tent. Look. There are the skis
sticking up in the snow. Seven, eight, nine, ten of them. Then, the
five men are there."
"Hurrah!" shouted Baskett. "Are you going to let off a rocket, or
hail them, sir?"
"Neither," replied Whittinghame shortly. He was tremendously excited,
only he knew that there was a chance that even now they might be too
late.
Quickly the powerful pumps were set to work, and as the required
number of ballonettes were exhausted the "Meteor" sank gently to the
snow-clad ground. Thanks to the almost total absence of wind her
anchors held without difficulty, although she had grounded nearly
eight hundred yards to leeward of the tent.
Leaving Setchell in charge, the rest of the officers lost no time in
descending the rope-ladder and making for the resting-place of the
explorers. Somehow the rescuing party felt strained. They could
hardly understand why, in almost perfect weather as far as the Polar
climate went, the five men were not resuming their homeward march.
The utter solitude of the black fur tent seemed ominous.
Although presenting the appearance of a level plain when viewed from
above, the ground was rough, and encumbered with hummocks, while here
and there deep but narrow fissures required care and skill on the
part of the rescue party. Occasionally a deep groaning sound
betokened the appalling fact that the ground was one vast ice-floe in
momentary danger of breaking up.
If the five men were still alive, how could they be indifferent to
the danger that now threatened them?
Whittinghame was the first to gain the tent. With numbed fingers he
cut the lashings that secured the flaps of the outer and inner
coverings and peered within.
Five fur-clad forms lay upon a pile of skins, their heads buried in
their arms. Whether they were sleeping the long last sleep that knows
no awakening in this world, Whittinghame could not tell. Nervelessly
he backed out and signed to Dacres to enter.
"Dead?" asked Dacres laconically.