CHAPTER II. PLANS ARE MADE.
CHAPTER III. IN SOUTHERN SEAS.
CHAPTER IV. UP THE FIORD.
CHAPTER V. THE RUINED CITY.
CHAPTER VI. ACROSS THE LAKE.
CHAPTER VII. BARNEY’S AND POMP’S ADVENTURES.
CHAPTER VIII. A GEOLOGICAL PHENOMENON.
CHAPTER IX. ON AN ISLAND.
CHAPTER X. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER XI. A SERIOUS ACCIDENT.
CHAPTER XII. WHICH IS THE END.
FRANK READE
WEEKLY MAGAZINE.
CONTAINING STORIES OF ADVENTURES ON LAND, SEA AND IN THE AIR.
_Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for
Second Class entry at the New York, N. Y., Post Office Entered according
to Act of Congress in the year 1904, in the office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by Frank Tousey, 24 Union Square, New
York._
=No. 84.= NEW YORK, JUNE 3, 1904. =Price 5 Cents.=
THE ABANDONED COUNTRY;
OR,
Frank Reade, Jr., Exploring a New Continent.
By “NONAME.”
CHAPTER I.
A WONDERFUL TALE.
“So you think the earth has been thoroughly explored, and that there is
no such thing as an undiscovered continent, do you?” asked Percy
Randall, as he lit a cigar and seated himself comfortably in a chair in
the office of Frank Reade, Jr., for a social chat.
The young inventor, who hardly needs an introduction to the reader, so
well is he known the world over, turned from his desk and regarded his
visitor with a quizzical smile.
“Still at that old theory, Randall?” he said. “I thought you had
discarded it after that last expedition of yours.”
Randall, a bronzed, athletic man of thirty years, but with heaps of
experience as a globe-trotter and explorer, winced, but replied lightly:
“Well, I did have a hard time. We lost our ship in Desolation Channel,
and were forced to take to an iceberg. If we had had an overland machine
like your Electric Scorcher, we could have easily crossed that ice
barrier and set foot upon the new continent, the most wonderful part of
the globe. But as it was we were carried north into Cape Horn waters on
the berg and finally picked up by an Argentine vessel.”
Frank looked interested.
“Then you really believe that there is an inhabited and undiscovered
continent beyond that ice barrier?” he asked.
“Why, I have old Jack Wendel’s word for it.”
“A sailor’s word is good except when connected with a story. The telling
of a yarn is ample license for stretching the imagination.”
“Very good,” rejoined Randall, “but old Jack has given his davy on it,
and all sorts of oaths. Oh, I firmly believe him.”
“I would much like to hear his story,” said Frank.
“You would?” asked Randall, eagerly.
“Yes.”
“Then you shall. I brought him here to-day for that purpose. He is just
outside the door. I will call him.”
Randall opened the office door and called:
“Wendel, come in here!”
The next moment there appeared in the doorway the figure of a sailor of
the old-time type, who spliced the mainbrace and made sennit in the
forecastle in the palmy days of the “tea wagons” and seventy-four gun
frigates.
Jack Wendel pulled his foretop respectfully before Frank, and said:
“With submission, sir, just come aboard, and at your service!”
“Glad to meet you, sir!” said Frank, warmly. “Sit down. My friend here
tells me that you have a wonderful yarn to tell.”
Wendel shot a shrewd glance at Frank, then said:
“It is not a yarn, skipper. It is a true story, on my honor!”
“Very good,” said Frank. “I should be glad to have you repeat it to me.”
“And you, sir?”
Wendel looked at Randall, who said:
“Certainly, Jack: fire away.”
The old salt clasped his hands over his knees and began:
“It was in ’53, and I went out from Baltimore in the Mary Luce. Captain
Barnaby, for Peru. There never was a stauncher ship, mates, nor the
Luce. She stood up like a church in a running gale, and it was no light
storm that put her under the rollers.
“Well, we were forty-three souls aboard—crew, officers, and a few
passengers. We had a lucky voyage all the way across the Equator and
down the coast until we struck ther Horn seas. Then there was the Old
Harry to pay.
“We hit into a south storm, and for four days we were unable to tell
where we were. The seas came aboard like avalanches and cleared the deck
to the masts fore and aft. That was a leetle the toughest trip I ever
had. And I haven’t forgotten it.
“Well, the way the wind did howl and the sea run! When at length the sun
shone long enough to take an observation our skipper swore that we were
south of the Antarctic Circle.
“And with that our bosun’s mate came up to say that the ship was leaking
a hundred strokes a minute, more or less. We all turned to the pumps and
worked like madmen.
“But what was the use? We could never hope to make land under many
weeks, and the ship could not float that long. We were put to it pretty
desperate, and finally the end came.
“There was no way but to take to the boats. What was worse, a little
squall came up and made it almost impossible to launch ’em. Then the
ship began to settle.
“I can’t tell ye just all about what followed. The captain’s boat was
lowered and swamped. The longboat cleared with fourteen aboard, but was
caught between the rollers and capsized. All hands went down.
“There were over twenty of us left on the ship’s deck, and a regular
fight was made for the remaining boats. They were put out and two of ’em
got clear and made off. But whatever became of ’em nobody ever knew. Six
of us were left behind, and we had given ourselves up for lost.
“But the ship water-logged and did not sink as soon as it was thought
that she would. That gave us time to make a raft. We put some stores on
it, and set out in a calmer sea. For six weeks we floated in those icy
seas.
“Luckily for us, it was the Antarctic summer, and we managed to get
along with our thin clothing until we suddenly hailed land. Yes, it was
actually land, away beyond the icebergs.
“There were mountains and a smoking volcano. At once our boys were
decided to pay it a visit.
“The raft drifted on into the edge of the ice floe. Then we left her and
cut out across the icefield.
“It would lake a long time for me to tell ye all that happened us on
that long walk. One of our men slid into an air-hole and we never saw
him again.
“Another died of exhaustion. But we kept on, though the cold was
something awful to bear, until at last we came to a cut in the shore
line. It was the mouth of a big river, and was jammed full of ice.
“It looked like a clear country beyond. We saw fir forests and evidences
of a game country. So we pushed on over the ice-packs in the river.
“For fifty miles we followed the course of that icy river between
fearful mountains and through deep gorges. At length we noticed a
peculiar warmth in the atmosphere, and one of our boys, sniffing the
air, declared:
“‘On my word, mates. I can smell land!’
“And, in fact, we could. The awful chill of the ice world was gone. Hope
revived in our breasts. We kept on, and the farther we went the more
evidences we found of the existence of a land clear from ice.
“At length we came to clear, open places in the river. Water was
visible. There were bare patches of shore and hillside.
“The soil was auriferous, and we found slight evidences of minerals. Now
a warm breeze relaxed our stiffened muscles and removed the tension from
our lungs. We pressed on.
“A few days later we left the ice region behind us entirely, and came
upon the wonderful Polar country. I couldn’t begin to describe it all to
ye mates, but it was unlike any other part of the earth.
“Well, we wandered around for six months. It was easy to live there, for
there was plenty of game. In the valleys were cities and towns, and at a
distance we saw the Polar people. These are not to be classed with the
Esquimaux, and seemed quite equal to the Europeans of the lower class.
“But we were not sure of a warm reception, so we did not venture to make
their acquaintance. We kept out of sight in the hills.
“Well, we lived a year in the Polar country. We liked the life, but
after awhile we tired of it as sailors will. Jim Welch wanted to go back
to his wife in Salem: Rod Smith had a sweetheart in Buzzards’ Bay, and
Jack Olson had promised his mother to stay at home with her after this
voyage.
“So we figured out our position. We knew that in April the ice-fields
would move north. Many of the big bergs would drift nearly to the
Equator. We decided to make our way to one and take our chances on being
picked up by a ship.
“So we made us suits of fur. Then we traveled down the river to the
coast again.
“Here we found a big berg in a good position and made us a camp on it.
We dug a deep cache and filled it with frozen meat and fowls. We dipped
fresh water from small wooden troughs set in the top of the berg, which
filled with water the first rain.
“When the proper time came the berg began to drift out to sea. Then we
got into the Equatorial drift. It was a rough and strange experience.
“For months we lived on the berg, watching every day for a sail. Day by
day the warm waters licked the ice away until all that was left of the
big ice structure was about an acre in area. Then we knew that a great
danger threatened us.
“One day Jim Welch, with a white face, came out, and said:
“‘Did ye feel that shiver in the berg a moment ago, lads? I tell ye
she’ll turn turtle before two days!’
“You know that all bergs, after melting to a certain point, will grow
top-heavy and turn over. That would settle our ease. And yet no sail.
“But the next morning at sunrise a Venezuelan schooner lay off our lee.
The Gringo skipper answered our hail and took us off. He carried us to
Caracas and we then shipped for New York.
“We were glad to get home, and none of us wanted to go back. But we
could say that we had visited a part of the world that was never
explored.
“And in that light we felt as big as Columbus, for there’s no telling
what may some day come out of the discovery when trade is opened up. And
that, mates, is the whole of my story!”