The Northern Seas
After a rough crossing of the Atlantic from New York to Plymouth,
England, where the Neptune had put in to replenish its supply of fuel,
the cruise of the polar submarine had been much smoother and Harry had
really enjoyed his trip. The daily talks by radiophone with Bert, Serge
and Andy were the high spots of the day for he missed the pleasure of
their companionship.
His first days aboard the Neptune had been miserable with the weather
rough and his stomach turning flip-flops every time he tried to eat. But
after leaving Plymouth and heading north for Bergen he had found the sub
and its tricks to his liking. Bob Smith, first officer of the Neptune,
was not much older than Harry. Bob was a navy man, loaned to Gilbert
Mathews especially for the Polar cruise, and he was thoroughly at home
in the underwater craft.
From Bergen to King’s Bay, Spitzbergen, was a lonely voyage for there
are few ships in the Arctic. An occasional gull wheeling overhead, stray
bergs drifting by, and the eternal blue of the cold North Atlantic was
all they saw day after day. Harry kept the radio humming with the press
messages which the explorer sent back to his syndicate in New York. One
method Mathews had used in spreading out the cost of the trip was the
sale of exclusive stories of what went on aboard the Neptune to a
newspaper syndicate. Morning and afternoon stories were required and
Harry, who was adept at writing a readable story, was often pressed into
service to write the daily dispatch.
Weather favored them all the way to King’s Bay, where they were to make
their final stop for supplies, which had been sent on ahead by steamers.
Harry deserted his post and went up on deck when Bob called down to
inform him that they were slipping into King’s Bay, scene of the start
of many a famous Arctic flight. It was from here that Byrd and Floyd
Bennett had made their dash to the North pole, to be followed a few days
later by Nobile and Ellsworth in the Italian dirigible Norge. It was
here that Wilkins and Eielson had landed after their long flight from
Alaska across the barrens of the Arctic and it was from here that the
ill-fated Norge had made a second expedition into the Arctic.
By the time the sleek, black submarine had nosed its way up to the large
coal dock, the entire population of King’s Bay was down to greet it. The
crew and officers welcomed the opportunity to leave the Neptune and
stretch their legs on land, but preparations for the trip into the
Arctic were pushed with all possible haste. The weather was too
favorable for any unnecessary delay and the crew worked steadily at the
task of refilling fuel tanks and taking on fresh stores of food.
On the morning of the 20th of June they cast their lines off the coal
dock, the big Diesels turned over smoothly, and the Neptune backed away
and turned its nose toward the open bay.
As many of the crew of 31 as could crowd onto the deck watched the
changing scene, and listened to the wishes for good fortune shouted by
the townspeople on the dock. There was a fresh breeze in the outer bay
and they were forced below by the crisp wind which sent waves slapping
over the deck in steady succession.
They were in the land of the midnight sun where in summer there is no
night, only a dusk as the sun dips to the horizon. At dusk the mainland
of Spitzbergen was to the rear and they were slipping past Amsterdam
island, which lay to their right. Ahead of them was the uncharted
mystery of the Arctic ocean.
Harry was surprised at the comparative mildness of the Arctic summer but
the temperature of the Arctic sea was not such that a fall overboard was
inviting and as a result the outer hull of the craft was ice-cold.
Special electrical heating devices had been installed in the living
quarters and the control room so it was fairly comfortable inside the
sub.
As they pushed northward, Gilbert Mathews and the two scientists with
him kept busy in the forward torpedo room where they made soundings of
the ocean depth and drew off samples from the bottom to determine the
nature of the floor of the Arctic. Because of the scientific
investigations, the Neptune made slow progress and it was the fourth day
out before they encountered much pack ice.
Conditions were favorable for the progress of the Neptune, for the ice
fields were open with wide leads between them. Occasionally a small berg
scraped the side of the submarine and on the fifth day, when they
encountered a solid mass of ice, the diving order was given and the
Neptune, its special electrical feelers projecting ahead, slipped under
the wall of ice and into the open water on the other side. Such an
operation was under the direct charge of Bob Smith, who demonstrated his
ability in that one brief maneuver.
The weather remained fair and on the 26th and 27th, the Neptune
increased its speed for the ice was fairly open. They were following
almost the same route taken by Byrd and Bennett in their successful dash
by air to the North Pole. On the twenty-eighth the sky closed in on
them. A cold Arctic fog obscured the sun and a wall of static shut them
off from communication with the outside world. They were now well into
the unknown regions of the Arctic, further north than any vessel had
previously penetrated, in the region which had been seen by man only
from the air.
On the night of the twenty-eighth a bitter wind whipped down out of the
northwest and the leads commenced to close under the pressure of the
drifting ice. The Neptune scuttled from one open area to another seeking
safety but the gravity of the situation increased every minute. With the
ice pack closing in, it was possible that the submarine might be caught
between the ice and crushed like an egg shell for despite its sturdy
construction it could not withstand the enormous pressure which the ice
would exert.
Bob was glued to the controls while Gilbert Mathews searched madly for
an opening through which the Neptune might slip to safety. There was
none and reluctantly the order was given to submerge.
They would be safe down below for the time being but they would be
unable to tell in what direction safety lay. They would have to feel
their way almost blindly under the ice, hoping that they would
eventually find an opening where they could rise to the surface.
Bob sent the Neptune down five fathoms and they slipped under the ice
pack.
Hour after hour passed as the Neptune crept under the great mass of ice.
At times it was necessary to go down to 10 and 12 fathoms but for the
most part they were only five or six fathoms under the ice. The Neptune
was a good underwater boat, steady and smooth-riding and the crew
experienced little discomfort. There was plenty of air for 40 hours
under the ice and they felt no alarm, when, at the end of twenty hours,
they had failed to find an opening.
They stopped and made a test with the ice drill which had been
especially designed and installed for just such an emergency but the
device jammed tight before they could get it working and that avenue of
escape was cut off.
When another ten hours had elapsed and they were still groping blindly
under the ice. Bob expressed his private opinion that they were in a
tight situation. Harry agreed as he stood beside the first officer in
the control room. Another three hours slipped away and the air was
heavy. Harry’s head felt light and the blood raced through his veins.
Unless they found an opening soon it would be curtains for the Neptune
and its crew. Gilbert Mathews relieved Bob at the main controls and the
first officer walked back to the radio cubby with Harry.
“If we don’t get out of this,” he said, “no one will ever know what
happened to us. They’ll have plenty of guesses and some of them will be
right, but they’ll never really know. I wish you could get a message
through.”
“So do I,” said Harry, “but that won’t be possible until we emerge.”
“I’m all in,” confessed Bob, “and I don’t suppose worrying will help us
any. Wake me up in half an hour,” he added as he slumped down in the one
comfortable canvas chair in the room.
Harry returned to the control room where a white-faced, worried crew
stuck grimly to their stations.
The air was bad; lights dim. They were barely creeping forward. Several
of the men dropped at their posts and were carried away by more
fortunate companions. Others took their places. The chief engineer, a
quiet Yankee, came in to tell the explorer that the power was going. The
batteries wouldn’t last more than another hour.
There was nothing Harry could do in the control room and he returned to
his own quarters. Bob was sound asleep in the chair. One dim light
glowed over the now useless radio set. Harry sat down and picked up a
message blank. He’d write a note to Andy and Bert. Someone might find
the hulk of the submarine some day; a freak of the Arctic might cast it
where it would again be viewed by man.
Harry had just started the note when he was startled by a sudden bumping
and scraping. The Neptune tilted sharply. Were they headed for the
bottom; crushed under the ice pack? The thought shot through Harry’s
mind as he roused Bob.
There were cries from the control room. They were going up. They had
found an opening in the ice pack.
Three minutes later the main hatch was thrown open and a wave of cool,
fresh air swept down into the dank, stinking interior of the submarine.
They were in a small lead between the sheer walls of the ice pack. The
Neptune had nosed into it blindly at a time when officers and crews had
despaired of their own lives.
As soon as the batteries had been charged sufficiently, Harry tried to
send out a call but the wall of static still engulfed the Arctic and his
efforts were futile.
“I don’t think I got out more than a hundred miles,” he told Bob, “and
there isn’t one chance in a thousand that anyone heard us.”
The Neptune remained securely in the sheltered lead all day on the 30th,
crew and officers resting after the strenuous ordeal they had been
through. Above them and over the ice pack a high wind raged and toward
the close of day there were ominous crackings and rumblings in the ice.
With the exception of one man left in the conning tower, the crew of the
Neptune was sound asleep at midnight. Two hours later they were awakened
by the alarmed cries of the watch. An eerie rumbling and groaning filled
the night. When they tumbled out on deck a terrifying sight greeted
them. The walls of the ice pack were closing in. They were trapped in
the lead!
The rapid movement of the ice was astounding. Orders cracked from the
lips of Gilbert Mathews and Bob Smith. The crew tumbled back into the
submarine. The main hatch was slammed and battened down. A crash dive
was in order. They were going under the ice again.
Harry dreaded the thought. The last time their margin of safety had been
slim; too slim. This time they might not come up.
The tension inside the Neptune was terrific as Bob gave the orders for
the dive. Valves were opened wide; water roared into the diving tanks.
The Neptune settled swiftly. The conning tower was almost under when
there was a terrific bump. Their downward motion stopped. The water
continued to rush into the diving tanks but the depth indicated remained
motionless.
“We’re caught on an ice shelf,” cried the explorer.
“Blow the tanks and we’ll get back to the surface,” commanded Bob. “We
won’t have a chance if we’re caught by the ice under water.”
Compressed air whistled into the diving tanks and the needle of the
depth gauge quivered and moved upward. With a rush they were back on the
surface.
The walls of the ice had moved closer. There was the steady thunder of
the pack as the pressure increased and miles of ice, driven by the
biting gale, moved forward, crushing all before it.
Under Gilbert Mathews’ direction, members of the crew made hasty
soundings. To their dismay it was found that the tremendous pressure of
the advancing ice had driven a shelf of it under them. There wasn’t a
single hole large enough to allow them to dive through to the
comparative safety of the depths.
In the next seconds a tremendous decision must be made: Should they stay
with the Neptune or abandon the submarine and attempt to escape over the
ice?
The walls of ice were moving forward relentlessly, closing the gap foot
by foot.
Gilbert Mathews, white-faced, grim, spoke.
“Get out the emergency equipment,” he said. “We’ll abandon the Neptune.”
For the next ten minutes the crew worked desperately. Food, tents,
snowshoes, medical supplies, and the portable radio and stoves were
rushed up from below. The Neptune was nosed over against the nearest
wall of ice and the supplies tossed on the pack. Others of the crew,
hurrying over the treacherous ice, carried the supplies back to a place
of safety for the tremendous pressure which would be exerted when the
walls of ice met might cause an explosion.
Harry took a final look at his beloved set before abandoning the
Neptune. He tried one more desperate call but the static strangled his
cry for help. They were alone in the desolate Arctic.
The Neptune abandoned to its fate, the crew retired from the edge of the
ice pack. From a distance of half a mile they watched the walls of ice
come together. Gilbert Mathews turned away when the first of the
rumbling explosions shattered the air. Ice rose in great pyramids,
shattering and flying in every direction. The pack on which they were
standing quivered and moved dangerously. In several places wide gaps
appeared but they were fortunate enough not to fall in.
When the pressure eased, they returned to the place where they had left
the Neptune. Instead of a haven of open water they found great masses of
ice, twisted and piled in grotesque fashion as though some giant of the
north had been playing a game all his own.
“We’ve seen the last of the Neptune,” said Bob Smith sadly. “It was a
good tub but not good enough to beat the Arctic.”
But Bob was wrong for on the far side of the twisted mass of ice they
came upon the bow of the Neptune. From all appearances the shell of the
submarine had withstood the terrific pressure and the undersea craft had
been hurled out of the water and caught fast in the ice.
It would be impossible to use the Neptune as a means of travel but if
the ice held its grip, they could live in the submarine until a rescue
expedition could reach them.
Axes were brought from the supplies they had taken off the Neptune and
the crew turned to the task of chopping a hole through the ice until
they reached the main hatch. Working in shifts, it took them two hours
to accomplish the task.
When the hatch was finally opened, Gilbert Mathews insisted that he be
the first to enter for the danger of chlorine gas lurked inside the
Neptune. If the batteries had upset, the deadly gas might have formed.
Anxiously the crew awaited the return of their leader. They cheered
wildly when he called that there was no sign of gas and they tumbled
back inside for a thorough inspection. Seams had been wrenched so
severely that the Neptune would sink like a rock if it ever slid into
the ocean but it was dry and comfortable inside and there was plenty of
fuel oil in the tanks to keep them warm for months to come.
The first thing was to send word of their plight to the outside world.
The portable radio with its aerial was set up on the ice outside and
Harry sat down to send out the first message and ask for relief. The
static had cleared since his last attempt and he finally picked up an
amateur station at Hopedale, Labrador, to which he communicated the
events which had befallen the Neptune. As nearly as possible, Harry gave
their position and asked that the officers of the Goliath at Bellevue,
Ky., be notified at once.
The operator at Hopedale, after recovering from the astonishment of
Harry’s message, promised to relay it at once.
The hours dragged by and there was no reply from the operator at
Hopedale, except that he had relayed the message to Montreal for further
transmission.
The tent which had been erected around Harry’s portable set was little
protection from the bitter wind and he was numb from cold and miserable
when the Hopedale operator finally came back at him. The message had
reached Bellevue. The reply was on the way. It cracked through the
ether.
“Goliath leaves at midnight. Estimate distance to you is 5,500 miles.
Should make it in 60 hours after departure. Signed, Andy High, Assistant
Pilot.”
Harry ran to the Neptune with the message and the news it contained
cheered them greatly. With the wind rapidly whipping into a storm, they
took refuge in the warmth of the Neptune and awaited the coming of the
Goliath.