TWO DAYS OUT
As the _Bird of Freedom_ closed with the snow-clad land, the
precipitous nature of the coast became more and more apparent.
Steep and often overhanging cliffs reared themselves eight hundred
feet or more above the level of the sea, their bases fringed by a
line of foam. No sign of any landing place could be made out; the
whole aspect was one of the wild grandeur of a dead land.
"We must have fetched too far to the westward," declared Ranworth, as
he brought out his sextant from a locker. "Do you recognise any
familiar outlines of the coast, Rogers?"
"No, sir, I don't," replied that worthy bluntly.
Ranworth questioned him no further. By the man's manner it was
clearly evident that, although he put no definite obstacles in the
way, he was not the least anxious to assist his employer.
"I cannot understand their attitude," soliloquised Ranworth. "Both
men had good certificates and bore excellent characters. Up to a few
hours ago they worked splendidly. Either their brains have been
affected by the shock of their adventures in the blizzard, or else
they are doing their utmost to induce me to abandon the attempt by
means of the sleigh. If that's the move, by Jove, they are making a
big mistake."
It was no easy matter taking an observation, owing to the liveliness
of the floating sleigh, but when Ranworth had worked out his
position and had pin-pricked it on a very incomplete chart of the
south coast of Nova Cania, he announced that the _Bird of Freedom_
was eighty miles to the westward of Desolation Inlet.
For hours, with both the aerial and sea propellers running at their
maximum speed, the _Bird of Freedom_ skirted the iron-bound coast,
until a rift in the cliffs betokened the entrance to Desolation
Inlet.
As the approach opened out, the lads could see that the inlet
strongly resembled a Norwegian fiord. Barely a hundred yards in
width, it was bordered by cliffs rising to twice that distance. How
far it extended they could not see, owing to the fact that the inlet
turned sharply to the right a quarter of a mile or so beyond the
entrance.
"Slow her down a bit, Leslie," ordered Ranworth. "We don't want to
carry on at too great a speed and barge into something. We'll have to
watch for air currents, too. It looks as if there were no wind, but
it may be perfectly calm out here and blowing a gale through those
ravines. By Jove, there's a sea running on the bar."
"Are you going in with this 'ere hooker, sir?" asked Payne, who,
unknown to Ranworth and the two lads, had come for'ard to view the
approach.
"I am," replied Ranworth coldly.
"Better wait for the old _Polarity_," continued the seaman. "How can
you expect a bloomin' egg-box like this to get through a smother of
sea like that? It's madness. It ain't fair on us."
"When your opinion is wanted it will be asked," said Ranworth
sternly.
Mumbling to himself, the man went aft, and for some minutes the two
malcontents conversed in low tones.
The _Bird of Freedom_ was now nearing the foam-swept bar. Already the
undulations were more rapid and erratic. With very little grip upon
the water she rocked heavily. Her stability was in peril.
"Lie down, all hands," ordered Ranworth.
The order was promptly carried out, and with more than a quarter of a
ton of live ballast as low down as possible, the _Bird of Freedom_
showed signs of greater stability. Although she still rolled
considerably, her "recovery" was more pronounced.
It was a tough business while it lasted. Lurching over the foaming
breakers, enveloped in spray as the tips of the aerial propellers
whisked the steep crest of the waves, the _Bird of Freedom_ crossed
the bar and was soon riding in the absolutely tranquil waters of the
inlet.
So land-locked was it that not a ripple disturbed the placid surface.
The hard granite rocks capped with ice and snow were faithfully
mirrored in the water. It was like fairyland without life.
Rounding the next bend, the _Bird of Freedom_ found herself in a
broader reach, with the cliffs considerably lower than those nearer
the open sea. Once the water was violently agitated by the fall of a
huge mass of ice and snow, but the ripples subsided quickly, and the
surface resumed its mirror-like aspect.
"That's what we have to look out for," commented Ranworth. "There is
always the risk of a miniature avalanche taking place. Farther up, I
understand, there is no such danger."
For quite five miles the _Bird of Freedom_ threaded her way up the
sinuous creek, till, rounding a precipitous bluff, her astonished
crew found the _Polarity_ at anchor.
They could hardly believe their eyes. They had left the staunch old
ship fairly imbedded in the ice. Between her and Desolation Inlet a
huge, seemingly impassable ice-barrier was known to exist; yet, in
spite of these difficulties, she had reached the meeting-place before
her swift courier.
The noise of the _Bird of Freedom's_ aerial propellers had already
announced her approach, and the _Polarity's_ lower rigging was black
with fur-clad forms, as the crew cheered the rejoining sleigh.
Leslie happened to glance at his leader's face. Ranworth showed no
signs of elation; on the contrary, his features wore a strained and
worried look. The mystery of the _Polarity_ forestalling him had
given rise to serious doubts.
"Stand by to make fast!" he ordered, at the same time telling Leslie
to disconnect the air propeller shafting.
With an agility that had been foreign to them for several hours,
Rogers and Payne clambered through the hatchway in the roof and
prepared to receive the mooring lines from the ship.
"Look out!" shouted Captain Stormleigh in stentorian tones, at the
same time pointing astern of the approaching sleigh.
The warning came too late. Sweeping down between a gap in the low
cliffs, a terrific gust of wind struck the _Bird of Freedom_ on her
broadside.
The next instant the sleigh was lying on its side, pinned down by the
resistless force of the wind, while it drifted to leeward like a
bladder.
Ranworth and his two young companions were thrown violently against
the side of the cabin, where for some moments they lay half stunned.
Then, slowly, as the gust eased down, the _Bird of Freedom_ righted
herself.
"Start her up, Leslie," exclaimed Ranworth breathlessly, "or she'll
be ashore."
But Leslie was not equal to the occasion. His brain was whirling,
everything in front of his eyes seemed to be dancing.
It was Guy who saved the situation. Having got off more lightly than
his chum, he retained possession of his senses. Thanks to Leslie's
tuition, he now thoroughly understood how to set the motors in
motion.
"Reverse her!" shouted Ranworth.
There was not room to turn. It was doubtful whether the single
sea-propeller, running full speed astern, would be sufficient to
check the _Bird of Freedom's_ way and convert the forward into a
backward motion.
The whole fabric of the sleigh trembled under the retarded movement.
Anxiously, Ranworth watched the granite cliffs now barely ten yards
ahead. Nearer and nearer they appeared to approach, but more and more
slowly, until, when only a hand's breadth separated the forepart of
the sleigh from the rugged rocks, the _Bird of Freedom_ came to a
standstill, then slowly backed astern.
Once more man's command of science had overcome the forces of Nature.
Having withdrawn to a safe distance from the ice shore, Ranworth
ordered easy ahead, and put her helm hard over. By this time the
squall had entirely ceased.
Just then, from sheer force of habit, Ranworth glanced at the
chronometer. It had stopped.
"Strange," he thought. "It must have had a knock when we heeled."
He looked at his watch. Like the chronometer, it was an eight-day
timepiece. It also had stopped.
It was not a proper occasion to go into the matter. The _Bird of
Freedom_ was again approaching the _Polarity_.
"Stand by there!" he shouted to the two seamen who had been ordered
to receive the securing ropes.
There was no reply. Rogers and Payne were not likely to maintain a
sullen silence when within hailing distance of Captain Stormleigh.
"Perhaps it's the noise of the motors," remarked Ranworth. "Stop her,
Guy."
Guy obeyed promptly. The _Bird of Freedom_ was now to leeward of the
ship, and comparatively safe from any more squalls.
Leaving the helm, Ranworth agilely ascended the steel ladder
communicating with the almost flat roof. As his head and shoulders
drew clear of the circular hatchway, he saw that Rogers and Payne
were no longer there.
A coil of rope hurtled through the air. Securing the end, he took a
couple of turns round a bollard. As he did so, Ranworth noticed that
most of the men of the _Polarity_ were aft, their eyes fixed in a
certain direction.
A dozen boats' lengths from the ship was the _Polarity's_ cutter. The
boat's crew were backing slowly, while Travers, the second mate, was
standing in the stern sheets and steadying himself with the
yoke-lines.
"We've lost them, sir," shouted Captain Stormleigh. "They must have
sunk like stones."
The gust that had blown the _Bird of Freedom_ upon her beam ends had
precipitated Rogers and Payne into the bitterly cold water. Weighed
down by their heavy clothing and sea boots, they had sunk
immediately.
Having made fast the second line, Ranworth hurried below to acquaint
Leslie and Guy with the news of the fatality.
"Do not say a word about the insubordination of those poor fellows,"
he warned them. "It will do no good. We are not here to condemn our
fellow-creatures."
He could say no more. The suddenness of the calamity had temporarily
unnerved him.
By this time, Leslie had nearly recovered from the effects of the
_Bird of Freedom's_ attempt to turn turtle, but on the back of his
head a lump the size of a pigeon's egg had already appeared, while
his left hand was grazed from wrist to elbow.
"What luck, sir?" asked Captain Stormleigh, as Ranworth came over the
side. "I fear our efforts have met with failure."
"Your efforts?" inquired Ranworth. "Why, Captain, you must have done
splendidly, fetching Desolation Creek in this time. How did you
manage it?"
It was Captain Stormleigh's turn to look perplexed.
"We stuck hard at it, sir," he replied. "But how did you fare over
there?"
And he pointed in the direction of Observation Camp, where Claude
Ranworth's expedition was supposed to be awaiting relief.
"Now, what do you mean, Captain?" demanded Ranworth. "Are you
dreaming, or am I? We haven't been there yet; we've only just arrived
at Desolation Inlet. If you----"
He broke off. The horrible suspicion which had but recently sprung up
in his mind was becoming more and more pronounced.
"This is Tuesday, isn't it?" he asked.
"No, sir, Thursday," replied Captain Stormleigh.
Like a flash Ranworth understood. The stopping of both chronometer
and watch was accounted for. After their exhausting experience on the
ice barrier, the crew of the _Bird of Freedom_ had slept solidly--not
for twelve hours as they had imagined--but for forty-eight. Thus,
while the sleigh was lying inactive, the _Polarity_ had contrived to
extricate herself from the ice, find a passage through the great
barrier by keeping well to the eastward, and so arriving at the
meeting place four hours before Ranworth and his party.
On the other hand, Captain Stormleigh, finding no trace of the
sleigh, had naturally concluded that Ranworth had arrived before him,
and had pushed on to the relief of the original expedition. When he
saw the sleigh returning, as he thought, from the interior of Nova
Cania, he could only come to the conclusion that nothing but the dead
bodies of Claude Ranworth and his companions had rewarded the heroism
and dash of the rescuers.
"But, man, you are in wireless communication with my brother,"
exclaimed Ranworth.
Captain Stormleigh shook his head.
"Up till the day before yesterday--yes," he replied. "From that time
till now all attempts to communicate have proved in vain."
Ranworth clenched his fists.
"There may yet be time," he said. "Ask for two more volunteers,
Captain. We'll make another start at once."