course easily reached by the _Flying Fish_. It proved to be, as had
already been surmised, merely an enormous mass of bare rock, without a
scrap of soil or vegetation of any kind about its surface, and useful
only as a citadel, into which, had it been planted in some more
accessible spot on the earth's surface, it would undoubtedly have been
converted, in which case it would have eclipsed even Gibraltar itself in
the matter of impregnability. Useless as it was, however, where it
stood, its summit afforded an admirable look-out; and from that point of
vantage the travellers made the discovery that "Elphinstone Land" was an
island, the horizon at that elevation being bounded by the sea on every
side. The rock was roughly circular in shape, with a circumference of
about three miles, and the travellers made the circuit of the summit in
about an hour and a half, pausing at frequent intervals to admire and
enjoy the magnificent panorama of woods and hills and streams which lay
spread out beneath them. Herds of elk, reindeer, and musk-oxen were
seen dotted about here and there on the plains below, as well as a
skulking wolf or two, a few Arctic foxes, and other wild animals. The
herd of mammoths--apparently the only herd in the island--was also seen;
and, with the aid of their telescopes, the travellers were also able to
make out, far away at sea, certain dark moving spots which, from their
alternate appearance above and disappearance beneath the surface, they
judged to be whales.
The chief business of the travellers, however, on the summit of "Mount
Mildmay" was to ascertain whether or no the North Pole of the earth was
or was not situated within its circumference. This was rightly regarded
as a matter of such great importance that several days were
unhesitatingly devoted to its settlement; and Mildmay, the professor,
and Colonel Lethbridge were busy from breakfast time in the morning
until dinner-time at night, making the most careful observations and
working out the necessary calculations. These were at length
satisfactorily completed--not one moment too soon, for the sun was daily
dropping nearer and nearer to the horizon--and the trio were enabled,
not only to say that the North Pole _was_ contained within the limits of
the summit, but to plant their feet upon it and to say unhesitatingly
and authoritatively:
"This is the North Pole!"
The position having thus been accurately determined, the next thing was
to mark the spot.
With this object a large triangle was first described about it, and a
point was carefully marked off on each of its sides in such a position
that a line tightly strained from such point to the opposite angle of
the triangle would pass directly through the pole. This done, an
excavation six feet deep in the solid rock was made, and in its bottom
was deposited a tightly-sealed bottle containing a small parchment
scroll, on which was inscribed a brief statement of the circumstances
connected with the discovery of the spot, with the date, and the
signatures of the joint discoverers. This bottle was carefully packed
in and buried up with small fragments of rock, and made finally secure
by a covering of excellent concrete, the materials for compounding which
had been carefully and with infinite labour prepared by the professor.
Then, when the concrete had become properly hardened, a substantial
flagstaff of aethereum was stepped into the hole in a position
accurately corresponding with the North Pole of the earth, and also made
secure by being built in or "set" in concrete, which completely filled
the hole. The professor next, with the aid of a diamond, engraved on
the staff, in bold conspicuous characters, at a height of five feet from
the ground, the words:
"_This staff marks the exact position of the North Pole of the earth_."
And finally, amid cheers from the rest of the party, Sir Reginald
Elphinstone ran the Union Jack up to the staff head and knotted the
halliards so that it would remain there, thus formally claiming for the
British nation the honour of actual discovery.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
SOUTHWARD HO!
So important a matter as the localisation of the Pole having thus been
satisfactorily disposed of, it was next resolved to effect a thorough
exploration of the entire island, including its circumnavigation. This,
with the aid of the _Flying Fish_, was pretty effectually accomplished
in a fortnight, after which the ship returned to her original anchorage
in the harbour, on the south side of the island, now named Lethbridge
Cove.
Both the forests and the adjacent waters of this favoured hyperborean
land were found to be literally swarming with game and other animals,
some of which afforded in their flesh a welcome change from the
preserved meats with which the ship's larder was stocked, whilst the
chief value of others lay in their "pelts" or skins; and, the
hydrographic features of the island having been carefully ascertained
and recorded, the party, with the exception of von Schalckenberg, now
gave themselves up unreservedly to the pleasures of the chase. The
professor's tastes lay more in the direction of geology, mineralogy, and
botany, though he was also an enthusiastic naturalist, and thus, whilst
he sallied forth every morning armed with gun, hammer, specimen box for
his botanical treasures, and bag for his minerals, the three others went
their several ways, either armed with traps and guns in search of game,
or in one of the boats, duly provided with dredger, net, and line, in
quest of ocean spoils.
Thus employed, the short remainder of the Arctic summer swiftly passed
away; the sun daily sank nearer and nearer the horizon; the temperature
fell; frost made its appearance, hardening the soil beneath the tread
and coating the pools and puddles and morasses with an ever-thickening
sheet of ice and the vegetation with a delicate tracery of silver; and
at length the day came when the anchor was lifted and the _Flying Fish_
moved some few miles out to sea to enable her occupants to witness the
final disappearance of the sun beneath the southern horizon. Some
anxiety had been experienced by the travellers for the last few days, as
clouds had been gathering in the sky, with every indication of a speedy
change of weather, and it was feared that the sight, which they had long
been promising themselves, would, after all, be denied them; but at the
last moment, or rather at the last hour, fortune proved favourable to
them; the cloud-bank broke up along the south-western horizon, the
vapours grouped themselves into a series of imposingly picturesque
masses, all aflame with the most gorgeous tints of sunset, and from a
little after eleven o'clock until shortly after noon the thin golden
upper edge of the luminary's disc was visible sweeping imperceptibly
along the purple horizon, until finally, as it reached the point of
disappearance, it glimmered feebly for a moment, and, whilst the
travellers stood watching it bare-headed, sank out of sight. The Arctic
day was over, and the six months of night and winter had set in. Not,
it must be understood, that darkness set in immediately--far from it;
for several succeeding days there ensued a weird, delicious, magic, and
ever-deepening twilight; but by the eighth day after the sun's final
disappearance this also had vanished, and night reigned with undisputed
sway.
And now, too, winter laid its icy hand with unrelenting grasp upon this
beauteous polar island; not, however, to desolate it with storm and
howling tempest and the deadly cold with which he visits less favoured
climes, but only to add newer and more unaccustomed beauties to the
scene. It is true that for the first fortnight after the disappearance
of the sun the weather wore a more or less unsettled aspect. The sky
became overcast with a canopy of cloud which, light and fleecy at first,
steadily increased in density; and at length, on the travellers emerging
from the pilot-house one morning after breakfast, they found the
motionless air thick with falling snow, which, settling noiselessly
down, had already covered the deck to a depth of some three inches. The
darkness was of course intense, so much so, indeed, that it was
impossible to see for a distance of half the length of the ship, and for
all that they could see of the land it might as well have been a hundred
miles distant.
This state of things lasted without intermission for the ensuing four
days and kept the travellers close prisoners on board their ship. This,
however, they in nowise regretted; indeed this short breathing space was
positively welcome to them, for they had plenty of work to do; and, shut
up warm and snug on board the _Flying Fish_, with all her saloons,
cabins, and corridors brilliantly illuminated by the electric light,
they busied themselves in carefully preparing and curing the many unique
specimens of natural history and the various choice skins and furs they
had already accumulated.
But on the morning of the fifth day they found that another change of
weather had taken place, and, on going out on deck, a glorious spectacle
greeted their delighted eyes. The snowfall had ceased, the sky was once
more cloudless, and the deep sapphire blue was studded with countless
myriads of scintillating stars that gleamed with the cold sharp lustre
which is seen only in periods of very severe frost. But it was not the
brilliant starlight, beautiful though that was, which drew ejaculations
of wonder and delight from the lips of the entranced beholders; it was
another and a rarer sight which excited their admiration. As they
looked, the sky immediately overhead, and for a distance of some twenty
degrees all round from the zenith, became tinged with the softest and
most delicate rose-colour, bordering which there suddenly appeared a
broad circle of flashing rays of light, blood-red at the inner rim of
the circle, and merging from thence through the richest purple into
brilliant blue, and from thence, through green of every conceivable
tint, into a clear dazzling yellow at the points of the rays. These
superbly-tinted rays were animated by a constant motion; now withdrawing
themselves into the main body of the circle as into a sheath, and anon
darting out again until they almost reached the horizon; and so
delicately transparent were they that, notwithstanding their brilliant
colour, the stars were distinctly perceptible through them. This
magnificent spectacle continued for a full hour with ever-increasing
brilliancy, suffusing sea and land with a quivering glow of prismatic
light, and imparting an aspect of magic, unearthly, indescribable beauty
to the scene. Then the colours gradually faded, the flashes became more
feeble, and the darting rays ever shorter and shorter, until they
finally faded completely away, to be succeeded shortly afterwards by the
keen silvery radiance of the young crescent moon which slowly rolled
upwards from the horizon, and, shedding her subdued light upon the snow-
clad landscape, invested it with an air of bewitching mystery and
unreality which was distinctly heightened by the profound impressive
silence of the long Arctic night.
With nature thus presenting herself to the travellers in so novel and
attractive a guise a month swiftly passed away, during which they tended
their traps or prosecuted their hunting expeditions under the glorious
light of the aurora, the cold steel-like radiance of the silver moon, or
the dim mysterious starlight; alternating these open-air employments
with assiduous devotion to their easels, in sufficiently clever but
altogether unsuccessful efforts to adequately transfer to canvas the
entrancing beauties of the Arctic scenery and phenomena which constantly
charmed their delighted eyes.
Toward the end of October, however, the temperature had fallen so low
that ice had begun to form all along the coast-line of Elphinstone Land,
and the weather had taken a decided change for the worse. Moreover, the
party had accumulated so much extra weight in the shape of valuable
skins, natural history specimens, and other curiosities, as to seriously
affect the buoyancy of the _Flying Fish_ as an aerial ship; and they
therefore at last--more than half-reluctantly--came to the determination
to desert the enchanted region of the Pole and wend their way southward.
Accordingly, on the morning of the first day of November the anchor was
hove up; the vapour was turned into the air and water chambers,
producing an almost perfect vacuum; and, rising into the air to an
altitude of about ten thousand feet, the _Flying Fish_ turned her nose
southward, and, illumined by the dazzling effulgence of the most
glorious aurora the voyagers had ever seen, was sent ahead at the utmost
limit of her speed.
It was determined to return to England forthwith, and without pause or
stoppage of any kind, unless some unforeseen necessity should arise, the
object being to dispose of their various acquisitions previous to a
renewal of their wanderings. The elevation at starting was therefore
maintained, and the ship pursued her headlong flight to the southward
with only one man--Mildmay--in the pilot-house to take charge and enact
the part of look-out; the remainder busying themselves in packing up
their various treasures for transference to safe-keeping on shore. The
pilot-house, like every other habitable portion of the ship, was
maintained at a comfortable temperature by means of pipes communicating
with the vapour-generating chamber in the engine-room below; and,
reclining at his ease in a most luxurious lounging chair, the lieutenant
had nothing to do but maintain a vigilant lookout through the circular
windows, and solace himself with his pipe meanwhile. The ship's speed
through the air was about one hundred and twenty miles per hour; and by
their calculations they expected to overtake the sun in about latitude
79 degrees 49 minutes north; if, therefore, the _Flying Fish_ maintained
her speed, the sun ought to appear once more above the horizon in four
hours thirty-five and a half minutes from the time of starting--
Lethbridge Cove being situated in exactly 89 degrees 0 minutes North
latitude. It was exactly nine o'clock in the morning when they started;
consequently, if their calculations were right, the sun ought to make
his appearance at thirty-five and a half minutes past one; and it was
this phenomenon for which Mildmay was chiefly watching, his companions
being anxious to have the unique experience of seeing the luminary rise
an hour and a half past mid-day. And it was for this reason, and in
order that they might not on the one hand be taken by surprise by being
hurried southward on the wings of a favouring gale, or on the other hand
be delayed by a possible adverse one, that the elevation of ten thousand
feet had been selected, this being well within the limits of the
_neutral belt_, or zone of motionless air.
Not to be caught napping, Mildmay extinguished the electric light in the
pilot-house as the musical gong of the clock suspended therein struck
the hour of one; after which he rose to his feet and took a good look
round on all sides. There was, however, nothing to be seen save a vast
sea of cloud beneath his feet and on all sides, as far as the eye could
reach, softly illumined by the light of the star-studded heavens above.
But even as he looked a just perceptible paleness in the deep velvety
blue of the sky to the southward attracted his attention. He looked
more intently. Yes, there could be no mistake about it; that pallor of
the southern sky was undoubtedly the first faint indication of the
approaching dawn; and he at once struck two strokes--the appointed
signal--upon the great mellow-toned bell which hung in the pilot-house.
The call was promptly answered by the appearance of his three fellow-
voyagers, who, abandoning whatever they had in hand, rushed helter-
skelter up the saloon staircase and into the pilot-house, anxious to
lose no scrap of that, to them, now novel sight, sunrise.
Rapidly yet imperceptibly the pale dawn stole upward into the sky; the
lustrous stars waxed dim before it, and one by one twinkled out of
sight; a faint roseate flush tinged the sky along the horizon,
brightened first into a rich orange, then into purest amber, the colours
being faintly reflected on the most distant edges of the vast cloud-bank
floating below; and at length, just as the hands of the clock marked
thirty-five minutes after one, an arrowy shaft of pure white light shot
upward into the sky, swiftly followed by another and another; and then,
with a dazzling flash of golden light, the upper edge of the sun's disc
rose slowly into view, soaring higher and higher until the whole of the
glorious luminary was revealed, whilst the rolling sea of cloud above
which the _Flying Fish_ skimmed glowed softly beneath his beams with
varying tints of the most exquisite opal.
This return to the realms of day had a curious effect upon the
travellers. They had not been conscious of the least depression of
spirits consequent upon their sojourn of more than a month in the region
of uninterrupted night, but it must have affected them, however
unconsciously, to no inconsiderable extent, for now, at the first
glimpse of sunshine, their spirits rose to an extravagant height; they
felt as though they had just effected their escape from some terrible
doom, and they were irresistibly impelled to shake hands with each
other, to exchange congratulations, and to talk all together, laughing
uproariously at even the feeblest attempt at jocularity.
The thoughts of the quartette were, however, speedily diverted by the
ever-imperturbable George, who now sounded the gong for luncheon, and
the whole party at once trundled below, leaving the ship to take care of
herself, as they very safely might, seeing that she was now travelling
down the "first" meridian, or that of Greenwich, with no land ahead
nearer than the Shetland Islands, more than a thousand miles distant.
After luncheon, however, the whole party returned to the pilot-house,
where they spent the time smoking and chatting, talking over their past
adventures, and maturing their further plans, until sunset, when, their
short day having come to an end, they once more retired below to
complete their preparations for a flying visit to London previous to a
resumption of their wanderings.
The question of the disposal of the _Flying Fish_ during the short
period of their absence from her had greatly exercised their minds for a
time. They were anxious still to avoid for the present, if possible,
anything approaching to notoriety or the attraction of public notice to
their proceedings, and they felt that this could scarcely be done if
they ventured to take so singularly modelled a ship into any British
port, however insignificant; moreover, there are very few harbours or
havens on the British coast capable of receiving a ship with such an
excessive draught of water--namely, forty feet--as that of the _Flying
Fish_. So they finally decided to sink her off the Isle of Wight (first
of all, of course, taking the precaution to accurately ascertain the
bearings of her berth), and to proceed to Portsmouth in the two boats,
taking with them the spoils of their polar expedition, and trusting to
their own ingenuity to evade such suspicions and speculations as might
be engendered by the somewhat singular circumstances connected with
their arrival, especially as the hour--about half-past four o'clock on
the following morning--at which they would reach the Wight would be
favourable to the execution of their plan.
The night was intensely dark, with a fresh north-easterly gale blowing,
accompanied by frequent rain-squalls, as the voyagers found on
descending to within about a thousand feet of the level of the sea at
midnight, in order to discover, if possible, their whereabouts. But
they could see nothing save the lights of a few ships and fishing craft
dotted about here and there; the appearance of the latter indicating
that they had already approached to within a short distance of the land;
nor did they sight anything by which to fix their position until first
the light on Flamborough Head and then that on Spurn Point flashed into
view out of the murky darkness. Then indeed, having satisfactorily
identified those lights, they knew exactly where they were; the course
was altered and shaped anew directly for the spot of their intended
descent, and the ship once more soared to her former elevation.
At twenty minutes after four o'clock a.m. a second descent was made,
when it was found that they were passing over hilly country which they
surmised to be that situated about the borders of the three counties of
Surrey, Hants, and Sussex; and almost immediately afterwards the lights
on the forts in progress of construction at Spithead came into view,
together with the anchor-lights of two or three men-o'-war in the
roadstead, and they knew that the first part of their journey was almost
accomplished.
Precisely at half-past four o'clock the _Flying Fish_ took the water
about two miles to the eastward of the "Noman" fort, and her occupants
at once began the search for a suitable berth for her--a berth, that is
to say, in a position where she would not be likely to be discovered by
the fishermen, and where the depth of water would be sufficient to
permit of the largest man-o'-war passing over her submerged hull without
striking upon it. To discover such a spot proved by no means an easy
task; but it was accomplished at last, though at a distance considerably
farther out to sea than they had bargained for, and at half-past five
o'clock her anchor was let go in the selected berth. Cross bearings
were then most carefully taken and entered in each of the travellers'
pocket-books, after which the next task was to get their varied spoils
into the boats and the boats themselves into the water. This was soon
done, and then all hands, including George and the _chef_, but excluding
the professor, entered the boats and shoved off a few fathoms from the
ship's side, where they anchored.
The first faint signs of dawn were just appearing in the eastern sky
when it became apparent to those in the boats that the huge bulk of the
_Flying Fish_ was disappearing. Steadily but imperceptibly she settled
lower and lower in the water until her deck was awash and nothing but
her pilot-house remained visible in the dim ghostly light of the early
morning. A minute more and this too had disappeared, and, as the waves
washed over its top, the baronet carefully lowered over the side of his
boat a rope-ladder, well weighted at the bottom and with an unlit
electric lamp attached to it in such a position as to hang suspended at
a height of about six feet above the bed of the sea. This lamp was of
course attached to a battery in the boat, and as soon as Sir Reginald
felt the weights at the foot of the ladder touch bottom he sent the
current through the insulated wire, a patch of vivid white light, like a
patch of moonlight, immediately shining out beneath the waves and
showing that the lantern was properly performing its duty. Then they
waited.
Not for very long, however. An interval of perhaps five minutes
elapsed, and then a quivering jerky motion became communicated to the
rope-ladder, followed a minute later by the appearance of von
Schalckenberg in his suit of diving armour. He stepped quietly into the
boat, and whilst he busied himself in doffing his glittering panoply,
the lamp was extinguished, the ladder hauled inboard, the anchors
tripped, and the two boats made their way slowly to the westward,
heading in for Nettlestone Point and the Solent.