OFF FOR THE SOUTH POLE.
The court-room was crowded as the boys entered it, but armed with
Billy's police card they soon made their way through a rail that
separated the main body of the place from the space within which the
magistrate was seated. On the way over Frank had related his
conversation over the wire with Captain Hazzard. It appeared that
Oyama, the Jap, was missing and that several papers bearing on the
objects of the expedition which were,--except in a general way,--a
mystery to the boys themselves, had been stolen.
Putting two and two together, Frank had made up his mind that the Jap
whose case Billy had been assigned to investigate was none other than
Oyama himself, and as they entered the space described above his eyes
eagerly swept the row of prisoners seated in the "Pen."
"I was sure of it," the boy exclaimed as his eyes encountered an
abject, huddled-up figure seated next a ragged, besotted-looking
tramp.
"Sure of what?" demanded Harry.
"Why, that Oyama was the man who stole the papers from the Southern
Cross."
"Well?"
"Well, there he is now."
Frank indicated the abject object in the corner who at the same moment
raised a yellow face and bloodshot eyes and gazed blearily at him.
There was no sign of recognition in the face, however. In fact the Jap
appeared to be in a stupor of some sort.
"Is that little Jap known to you?"
Frank turned: a gray moustached man with a red face and keen eyes was
regarding him and had put the question.
"He is--yes," replied the boy, "but----"
"Oh, you need not hesitate to talk to me," replied the stranger, "I am
Dr. McGuire, the prison surgeon, and I take a professional interest in
his case. The man is stupefied with opium or some drug that seems to
have numbed his senses."
"Do you think it was self-administered?" asked the boy.
"Oh, undoubtedly. Those fellows go on regular opium debauches
sometimes. In this case perhaps it is very fortunate for some one that
he was imprudent enough to take such heavy doses of the drug that the
policeman picked him up, for a lot of papers were found on him. They
are meaningless to me, but perhaps you can throw some light on them."
"The papers, we believe, are the property of Captain Hazzard, the head
of the government's South Polar expedition," exclaimed Frank, whose
suspicions had rapidly become convictions at the sight of the Jap. "We
have no right to examine into their contents, but I suppose there
would be no harm in our looking at them to make sure. I can then
notify the Captain."
"You are friends of his?"
"We are attached to the expedition," replied Frank, "but I must ask
you not to mention it, as I do not know but we are breaking our
promise of secrecy even in such an important matter as this."
"You can depend that I shall not violate your confidence," promised
Dr. McGuire.
It was the matter of few moments only to secure the papers from the
court clerk. There was quite a bundle of them, some of them sealed.
Apparently the thief, elated over his success in stealing them, had
indulged himself in his beloved drug before he had even taken the
trouble to examine fully into his finds. One paper, however, had been
opened and seemed to be, as Frank could not help noticing, a sort of
document containing "General Orders" to the expedition.
It consisted of several closely typewritten pages, and on the first
one Frank lit on the magic words,--"--AND CONCERNING THE SHIP OF OLAF,
THE VIKING ROVER, YOU WILL PROCEED ACROSS THE BARRIER, USING ALL
DISCRETION, AS A RIVAL NATION HAS ALSO SOME INKLING OF THE PRESENCE OF
THE LONG-LOST VESSEL AND,--"
Though the boy would have given a good deal to do so he felt that he
could not honorably read more. He resolutely, therefore, closed the
paper and restored it to its place in the mass of other documents.
There was, of course, no question that the papers were the property of
Captain Hazzard, and that the Jap had stolen them. The latter was
therefore sentenced to spend the next six weeks on Blackwell's Island,
by the expiration of which time the Southern Cross would be well on
her voyage toward The Great Barrier.
As the boys left the court, having been told that Captain Hazzard's
papers would be sealed and restored him when he called for them and
made a formal demand for their delivery, they were deep in excited
talk.
"Well, if this doesn't beat all," exclaimed Frank, "we always seem to
be getting snarled up with those chaps. You remember what a tussle
they gave us in the Everglades."
"Not likely to forget it," was the brief rejoinder from Harry.
"I'll never forget winging that submarine of Captain Bellman's," put
in Billy.
"Well, boys, exciting as our experiences were down there, I think that
we are on the verge of adventures and perils that will make them look
insignificant," exclaimed Frank.
"Don't," groaned Billy.
"Don't what?"
"Don't talk that way. Here am I a contented reporter working hard and
hoping that some day my opportunity will come and I shall be a great
writer or statesman or something and then you throw me off my base by
talking about adventure," was the indignant response.
"Upon my word, Billy Barnes, I think you are hinting that you would
like to come along."
"Well, would that be so very curious. Oh cracky! If I only could get a
chance."
"You think you could get a leave of absence?"
"Two of 'em. But what's the use," Billy broke off with a groan,
"Captain Hazzard wouldn't have me and that's all there is to it. No,
I'll be stuck here in New York while you fellows are shooting Polar
bears--oh, I forgot, there aren't any,--well, anyhow, while you're
having a fine time,--just my luck."
"If you aren't the most contrary chap," laughed Frank. "Here a short
time ago you never even dreamed of coming and now you talk as if you'd
been expecting to go right along, and had been meanly deprived of your
rights."
"I wonder if the Captain----," hesitated Harry.
"Would take Billy along?" Frank finished for him, "well, we will do
this much. We have got to go over to the Erie Basin now and tell
Captain Hazzard about the recovery of his papers. Billy can come along
if he wants and we will state his case for him, it will take three
boys to manage that sledge anyway," went on Frank, warming up to the
new plan. "I think we can promise you to fix it somehow, Billy."
"You think you can," burst out the delighted reporter, "oh, Frank, if
you do, I'll--I'll make you famous. I'll write you up as the
discoverer of the ship of Olaf and--"
"That's enough," suddenly interrupted Frank, "if you want to do me a
favor, Billy, never mention any more about that till Captain Hazzard
himself decides to tell us about it. We only let what we know of the
secret slip out by accident and we have no right to speculate on what
Captain Hazzard evidently wishes kept a mystery till the time comes to
reveal it."
"I'm sorry, Frank," contritely said Billy, "I won't speak any more
about it; but," he added to himself, "you can't keep me from thinking
about it."
As Frank had anticipated, Captain Hazzard agreed to ship Billy Barnes
as a member of the expedition. He was to be a sort of general
secretary and assist the boys with the aeroplane and motor sledge when
the time came. The reporter's face, when after a brief conference it
was announced to him that he might consider himself one of the
Southern Cross's ship's company, was a study. It was all he could do
to keep from shouting at the top of his voice. The contrast between
the dignity he felt he ought to assume before Captain Hazzard and the
desire he felt to skip about and express his feelings in some active
way produced such a ludicrous mixture of emotions on Billy's face that
both the boys and the captain himself had to burst into uncontrollable
laughter at it. Laughter in which the good natured Billy, without
exactly understanding its cause, heartily joined.
A week later the final good-byes were said and the Southern Cross was
ready for sea. She was to meet a coal-ship at Monte Video in the
Argentine Republic which would tow her as far as the Great Barrier.
This was to conserve her own coal supply. The other vessel would then
discharge her cargo of coal,--thus leaving the adventurers a plentiful
supply of fuel in case the worst came to worst, and they were frozen
in for a second winter.
In case nothing was heard of them by the following fall a relief ship
was to be despatched which would reach them roughly about the
beginning of December, when the Antarctic summer is beginning to draw
to a close. The commander of the Southern Cross expected to reach the
great southern ice-barrier in about the beginning of February, when
the winter, which reaches its climax in August, would be just closing
in. The winter months were to be devoted to establishing a camp, from
which in the following spring--answering to our fall--the expedition
would be sent out.
"Hurray! a winter in the Polar ice," shouted the boys as the program
was explained to them.
"And a dash for the pole to cap it off," shouted the usually
unemotional Frank, his face shining at the prospect.
As has been said, the Southern Cross was an old whaler. Built rather
for staunchness than beauty, she was no ideal of a mariner's dream as
she unobtrusively cleared from her wharf one gray, chilly morning
which held a promise of snow in its leaden sky. There were few but the
stevedores, who always hang about "the Basin," and some idlers, to
watch her as she cast off her lines and a tug pulled her head round
till she pointed for the opening of the berth in which she had lain so
long. Of these onlookers not one had any more than a hazy idea of
where the vessel was bound and why.
As the Southern Cross steamed steadily on down the bay, past the bleak
hills of Staten Island, on by Sandy Hook, reaching out its long,
desolate finger as if pointing ships out to the ocean beyond, the
three boys stood together in a delighted group in the lee of a pile of
steel drums, each containing twenty gallons of gasolene.
"Well, old fellow, we're off at last," cried Frank, his eye kindling
as the Southern Cross altered her course a bit and stood due south
down the Jersey coast.
"That's it," cried Billy, with a wave of his soft cap, "off at last;
we're the three luckiest boys on this globe, I say."
"Same here," was Harry's rejoinder.
The blunt bows of the Southern Cross began to lift to the long heave
of the ever restless Atlantic. She slid over the shoulder of one big
wave and into the trough of another with a steady rhythmic glide that
spoke well for her seaworthy qualities. Frank, snugly out of the
nipping wind in the shelter of the gasolene drums, was silent for
several minutes musing over the adventurous voyage on which they were
setting out. Thus he had not noticed a change coming over Harry and
Billy. Suddenly a groan fell on his ear. Startled, the boy looked
round.
On the edge of the hatch sat Billy and beside him, his head sunk in
his hands, was Harry.
"What's the matter with you fellows?" demanded Frank.
At that instant an unusually large breaker came rolling towards the
Southern Cross and caught her fair and square on the side of the bow.
Deep laden as she was it broke over her and a wall of green water came
tumbling and sweeping along the decks. Frank avoided it by leaping
upward and seizing a stanchion used to secure the framework holding
down the deck load.
But neither Harry nor Billy moved, except a few minutes later when
another heavy roll sent them sliding into the scuppers.
"Come, you fellows, you'd better get up, and turn in aft," said Frank.
"Oh, leave me alone," groaned Billy.
"I'm going to die, I think," moaned Harry.
At this moment the new steward, a raw boy from Vermont, who had been
at sea for several years, came up to where the two boys were
suffering.
"Breakfast's ready," he announced, "there's some nice fat bacon and
fried eggs and jam and----"
It was too much. With what strength they had left Billy and Harry
tumbled to their feet and aimed simultaneous blows at him.
It was a final effort and as the Southern Cross plunged onward toward
her mysterious goal she carried with her two of the most sea-sick boys
ever recorded on a ship's manifest.