TRAPPED IN AN ICEBERG
THE _Polarity_ was rapidly approaching her destination. Her stokehold
staff were working like niggers, while the engineers did their utmost
to raise every possible ounce of steam.
However urgent had been the call for aid, that call was now even
greater, for on getting within wireless range of Claude Ranworth's
apparatus, the _Polarity's_ people learnt that another misfortune had
overtaken the explorers.
In spite of strenuous precautions, the dreaded scurvy had broken out,
and five men had already succumbed to its ravages. In addition,
nearly all the Esquimaux dogs used for drawing the sleighs had died
from some unaccountable reason, and the explorers were compelled to
shelter in snow huts at a spot nearly forty-five miles inland from
Desolation Inlet.
Already the crew had donned their Arctic clothing, for the
temperature was falling rapidly as the vessel reached the high
latitudes.
Drifting bergs, some several hundred feet in height, were constantly
being met, proving the Norwegian whaler's statement that the ice was
breaking up earlier than usual. There was no longer any night. During
the whole twenty-four hours of each day the sun was visible, a pale,
watery orb in a misty sky.
Just as Captain Stormleigh was congratulating himself upon having
made a quick passage, the _Polarity_ encountered a belt of fog. For
forty-eight hours it was impossible to see more than a few yards
ahead. Speed had to be reduced to five knots, not on account of the
possibility of colliding with other vessels, but with obstructions
that are without means of indicating their presence--the dreaded
"growlers," or masses of ice showing only a few feet above the
surface.
Icebergs, of course, constituted a danger, but their presence can
generally be detected by a rapid fall of temperature, and frequently
by the cracking and rending of the berg itself.
On the second day of the fog, Leslie and Guy had just gone on board
after dinner when they heard the engine-room telegraph-bell ring.
Quickly the engines were reversed, the two propellers throwing a
cascade of white foam past the entire length of the ship.
For'ard, both the look-out men were shouting at the same moment, with
the result that what they said was unintelligible to the officers on
the bridge. Then, with a terrific crash, the foremast was shattered
twenty feet below the truck, the broken spar with the crow's nest
attached to it falling upon the deck, together with a large fragment
of ice.
Hearing the crash, but unable to see what had happened owing to the
fog, the two lads groped their way for'ard, until their progress was
barred by the débris of the foremast.
Another grinding sound pierced the veil of mist. The _Polarity_,
still forging ahead, in spite of the reversed engines, had run into
an almost perpendicular wall of ice. Fortunately she carried but
little way, otherwise the impact would have stove in her bows. As it
was, the shock was sufficient to throw both lads to the deck.
Leslie realised that the ship was in collision, but he was still
ignorant of the nature of the obstruction.
The perils of the situation were magnified by the grim nature of the
surroundings, for if the _Polarity_ had sustained a mortal blow the
whole of her crew were doomed. It might be possible to take to the
boats, but that would only prolong the agony. No human being could
survive a lengthy voyage in an open boat in that Arctic weather.
As the lads were picking themselves up, Paul Travers bumped heavily
into them. The second officer was on his way for'ard to ascertain
the nature of the damage.
"It's all right, sir!" he shouted. "She's not making any water. The
stem is twisted a bit, and the bow plates are slightly buckled above
the water-line."
Captain Stormleigh heaved a sigh of relief. He was a brave seaman,
but the perils of a fog at sea he dreaded, more especially in the
present case. Having escaped lightly this time, he decided to back
astern for at least a couple of miles and lay to until the fog
lifted.
"Berg astern, sir!" shouted one of the seamen, who was stationed
right aft.
The _Polarity_, having hit a berg when travelling ahead, was now in
danger of hitting another when going astern.
Again the telegraph-bell clanged. This time the ship's way was more
readily stopped, since her speed astern was barely two knots.
"How's that, Captain Stormleigh?" asked a voice, which Leslie and Guy
recognised as that of Mr. Ranworth. "If we are retracing our course,
how is it that we missed this berg before?"
"Can't say, sir," replied Captain Stormleigh abruptly. He was but
dimly conscious of the question; his whole attention was centred upon
the perils that beset him.
Slowly the ship forged ahead, this time circling to starboard. Five
minutes later came a warning shout:
"Bergs ahead!"
The _Polarity_ had attempted three different courses, and each
attempt had been foiled by the presence of ice. Unwittingly she had
entered a veritable trap.
"Mr. Travers!" sang out the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Take a cast with the lead."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The second mate called to a seaman, who, armed with the
"dipsey"--deep-sea lead--clambered on to the bow bulwark by the main
shrouds.
The cast gave bottom at six fathoms.
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Travers. "There ought to be six hundred
fathoms at the very least."
"What does it mean?" asked Ranworth, when the second mate had made
his report to the bridge.
"Simply that we are inside an iceberg," replied Captain Stormleigh
calmly, for now that way was off the ship his anxiety had
considerably lessened. "There's a wall of ice on three sides of us at
least, since we've sighted it. There's ice under us, otherwise the
lead would give a jolly sight more than six fathoms, and there is, or
was, ice above us, otherwise we shouldn't have lost part of our
foremast."
"What's to be done?" asked Ranworth anxiously.
"Grope our way out--if we can," replied the skipper. "Unless I'm very
much mistaken----"
His words were interrupted by a low rumble that quickly increased
into a roar like thunder. Almost at the same time the hitherto calm
sea was strangely agitated. A dull shock was distinctly felt under
the ship's keel.
"Berg breaking up," remarked Captain Stormleigh, as calmly as
possible, yet fear was gripping his mind. He alone knew the danger.
The _Polarity_ was almost in contact with a mountain of ice, which
was on the point of toppling over. Every minute was precious, and a
way had yet to be found to extricate the ship from her hazardous
position.
Suddenly--owing to the disturbance of the atmosphere caused by the
fall of a huge portion of the berg--the fog was riven asunder, and an
awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the two lads.
The _Polarity_ lay in a deep narrow inlet. On three sides rose a
continuous wall of ice, terminating three hundred feet above the
surface in pinnacles of fantastic shape. From this precipice masses
of ice jutted out at varying angles. It was against one of these
unstable projections that the foremast of the ship had struck.
The opening by which the _Polarity_ had, by a pure fluke, entered the
ice-incircled inlet was now visible; a gap roughly a hundred yards in
width at the surface, and two-thirds of that distance from the
nearmost of the opposite peaks. It was this part of the berg that
threatened to collapse next. The overlapping mass was groaning
ominously. Should a slide occur, the _Polarity_ would be hopelessly
trapped.
Not only was the ship almost surrounded by the berg, but underneath
her keel was a ledge of ice that was part and parcel of the floating
mountain of frozen water.
Again a terrific crash announced that another fall of the ice had
taken place. Evidently the slide was of great size, sufficient to
imperil the stability of the whole berg. The waters of the inlet
were violently agitated as the towering mass swayed.
[Illustration: On three sides rose a continuous wall of ice.
To face page 44.]
The _Polarity_, lying broadside on and without way, in the trough of
the waves, was in danger of being hurled violently upon the jagged
cliff of ice.
Captain Stormleigh saw his chance and seized it. His sole hope lay in
getting steerage way upon the ship, and making for the narrow outlet
to the open sea. Ordering "Easy ahead, both engines," he steadied the
vessel on her helm. Beyond the gap, the fog-bank still held as
heavily as before. In that pall of vapour other bergs perhaps
existed, but in any case it was better to risk the perils of the fog
than to be entombed by the overturning of the berg.
Slowly--ever so slowly--the _Polarity_ began her bid for safety.
There was a possibility that by this time the berg had tilted
sufficiently to reduce the depth of water over the "bar" of the
inlet, in which case the escape of the ship would be prevented. All,
then, that could be done would be to take to the boats on a forlorn
and almost hopeless dash for the nearest whaling station.
Wallowing like a porpoise, the staunch ship gradually approached the
entrance. On her port side a massive ledge of steel-blue ice jutted
fully fifty feet beyond the base of the berg. So insecure did it look
that it seemed in momentary danger of breaking away and crashing upon
the deck of the vessel. To edge farther away to starboard was
impossible, owing to the obvious presence of a ledge of ice a few
feet beneath the surface.
Leslie and Guy gazed spellbound as the masthead approached the
overhanging ice. It seemed as if the stout spars must crash into the
obstruction. Perhaps it was as well that the foremast had been partly
carried away, for, as it was, the main truck missed the lower side of
the ledge by a few inches.
A few seconds of breathless suspense followed, until the _Polarity_
drew clear of the supreme danger and entered a wider and less
obstructed stretch of water.
Even then the peril was not yet over. Not until the ship was in deep
water, and well away from the dangerous berg, could her crew breathe
freely.
Fifty yards farther on the vessel's keel grated heavily. She had
grounded upon the ice floor of the inlet. Yet her way still carried
her forward.
The ice appeared to give under the grinding mass of steam-propelled
hull, yet, after scraping along for nearly her own length, the
_Polarity_ began to hang up. The water was shoaling with considerable
rapidity.
In place of the unimpeded motion of the ship in the open sea, was
that lifelessness which seamen know and dread. The _Polarity_ was no
longer water-borne, but on the point of being hard and fast aground.
Captain Stormleigh knew full well that once the ship's way was
stopped she would never be able to get off again under her own
efforts. He promptly telegraphed below for full speed ahead.
Under the action of the twin screws churning the water to the utmost
capacity of the powerful engines, the _Polarity_ scraped and ground
her way for another fifty yards. Then, without warning, her bows
dipped sharply, her whole fabric seemed to tremble as if on a
balance, and, gliding with quickened pace, she slid into deep water.
"Look!" exclaimed Guy to his chum, as the _Polarity_ drew away from
the dangerous iceberg.
He pointed to a gently shelving part of the ice-mountain quite two
hundred feet above the sea. On it was a large polar bear, standing
with paws outstretched and neck extended as rigid as a marble statue.
"It's dead!" declared Leslie. "Frozen to death, by the look of it. I
wonder how it got on the berg?"
"No fear, it's not dead!" said his companion. "You can just----"
The sentence was interrupted by a warning shout from some of the
crew. The whole berg was in the act of toppling over.
Silently at first the mountainous mass of ice began to tilt. Then,
amid an ever-increasing roar of the agitated water and the crash of
detached pieces of the berg, the list grew more and more.
Even now it was a race between the toppling cliffs of ice and the
ship, for the latter had not put a safe distance between herself and
the berg.
The lads, even in the midst of this new peril, could see the now
aroused bear, striving to run up the steeply shelving ice wall which
a few moments previously had been almost level.
For a few yards the animal made good progress, then its massive paws
began to slip. Struggling in vain for a foothold, the bear slid
backwards with increasing speed till, like a stone shot from a
catapult, its huge body was flung over the edge of the precipice, to
disappear in a moment beneath the foam-crested waves.
The noise of the collapsing berg grew till it rivalled the crash of
thunder. The sea, thrashed by huge fragments of dislodged ice, many
of them forming small bergs, was churned into a heavy mass of foam.
The _Polarity_ won the race by barely her own length as the topmost
pinnacle of the iceberg struck the sea.
"Hold on, men!" roared Captain Stormleigh.
But his voice could not be heard owing to the ear-splitting crashes.
Nevertheless, all hands clung on like grim death as a cascade of
water, topped by a fringe of foam, burst over the vessel's stern.
Clinging desperately to a life-rail, Leslie and Guy thought that the
_Polarity_ was doomed.
Buried ten feet below the waves of icy water, and almost torn from
their hold, they knew not whether the vessel were plunging to the
bottom or otherwise. Both lads were seized by a frantic desire to
release their grasp and strike out for the surface. The water
trickled down their mouths and nostrils, its very coldness lacerating
their throats and causing them intense pain.
Then, as suddenly as they had been overwhelmed, the rush of water
subsided, as the _Polarity_ gamely shook herself clear of the giant
wave.
Gasping for breath, Leslie took in the scene of confusion. Guy was
sprawling on the deck, his hands still grasping a massive
belaying-pin in the life-rail. To leeward, the water was pouring in
eddying torrents through the scuppers, where five or six of the crew,
swept across the deck, were lying in a struggling heap.
Amidships, about ten feet of the bulwarks had been carried away,
while the two quarter-boats had been hurled from the davits and
smashed to splinters against the battered engine-room hatchway.
Another and yet another wave followed in quick succession, each
smaller than the one preceding, and although the _Polarity_ was
tossed like a cork, very little water broke on deck.
"Any men lost?" shouted Captain Stormleigh, after the immediate
danger was over.
"No, sir," replied Travers. "Bill Smith has fractured his thigh, and
there are a few minor injuries."
"We've come out of it lightly, then," rejoined the skipper, "thanks
to a merciful Providence."
"We have," agreed Ranworth; then, unbuttoning his fur coat and
consulting his watch, he added: "And six precious hours wasted!"