THE END OF THE MAMMOTH
SLOWLY the steel wire hawser, terminating in a "span" with two
enormous gun-metal hooks, was lowered through the block on the
derrick.
"Sleigh ahoy!" roared Captain Stormleigh. "Send a couple of hands to
engage the hooks."
It was much easier said than done. At about two feet from each end of
the _Bird of Freedom_ was a stout galvanised iron eyebolt. The "eye"
projected above the rounded neck, while the bolt passed completely
through and was secured by a nut to a massive crossbar on the
underside of the floor.
Apart from the hazardous operation of engaging the hook of the span
to the eyebolts--a task which necessitated two men making their way
along the slippery, heaving deck--the sudden strain of the sleigh,
which with motors and full complement weighed between ten and eleven
tons, might burst the eyebolts asunder.
In calm weather the job would be a comparatively easy one, but the
heaving and pitching of the ship and the sleigh made it impossible to
obtain a gentle and gradually increasing strain on the wire hawser.
Guy looked at Leslie, and Leslie looked at Guy. They realised the
terrible risk that was entailed, and that it was "up to them," as
active members of the British party on board the sleigh, to carry out
Captain Stormleigh's instructions.
"Come on," said Leslie at length, and without further hesitation he
clambered up through the hatchway and began to crawl cautiously
towards the after ring-bolt.
"Hold on! Avast there!" shouted Captain Stormleigh. "Isn't there any
man on board there?"
"No, sir," shouted Leslie in reply, for it was only by raising his
voice to its utmost capacity that he could make himself understood in
the terrific wind.
"Then get below at once," roared the skipper.
Only too glad to escape the task which was practically certain to be
beyond their powers, the lads obeyed; but they left the hatch
uncovered in order to follow the impending operations.
Presently a man, whom the lads recognised as Travers, the second
mate, ascended the steel rope to the block at the end of the derrick.
Then, transferring the weight to the outboard part of the rope, he
descended till his feet came in contact with the large ring-bolt to
which the two spans were attached.
Holding one of the hooks in his fur-gloved hands, Travers awaited his
opportunity and deftly engaged the hook in the ring-bolt at the bow
of the sleigh.
The derrick was slung aft so that the second mate could perform a
similar operation there. This part of the business was a most
difficult one. At one moment the engaged span was quite slack, at the
next, as the _Bird of Freedom_ sank in the trough of the waves, it
was as taut as an iron bar, while the sudden strain wellnigh jerked
the plucky young officer from his precarious perch. In addition, he
had to fight the telling effects of the numbing cold.
[Illustration: Holding one of the hooks in his gloved hand, Travers
... deftly engaged the hook in the ring-bolt at the bow of the
sleigh.
To face page 158.]
At the third attempt he succeeded in engaging the after hook. With a
terrific jerk the sleigh was raised ten feet above the sea as the
_Polarity_ rolled to port. The next moment the return roll of the
ship let the sleigh down with a resounding smack upon the
white-foamed waves.
Travers, holding on like grim death to the span which he had now made
fast, had slipped to the deck and was revolving round the chain in a
vain endeavour to obtain a foothold upon the slippery platform.
The ship's donkey-engine was clanking. Slowly the wire rope was being
wound round the drum of the windlass. Each jerk, as the _Bird of
Freedom_ dropped with the waves, became less and less, until she drew
entirely clear of the water.
Five minutes later the sleigh rested upon the _Polarity's_ deck.
Travers, with two fingers of his left hand smashed to a pulp, slid
inertly from his precarious perch. Two of the crew were just in time
to break his fall. Insensible he was carried below, another victim of
the grim Arctic.
The sick and wounded men were quickly transferred from the sleigh to
the main cabin of the ship, which speedily resembled a hospital ward.
The ship's doctor was soon hard at it, assisted by plenty of
voluntary workers. John Ranworth had already recovered consciousness,
and his first question was how long it would take to get the _Bird of
Freedom_ ready for the second dash for Observation Camp.
Leslie and Guy, their work for the present accomplished, were sound
asleep, worn out with fatigue. Aubrey Hawke, although unfit for
active duty, was superintending the recharging of the accumulators
and overhauling the defects in the wiring of the motors.
It was indeed wonderful that the _Bird of Freedom_ had survived her
fall from the glacier. Well it was that the engines had been strongly
bolted to their bearers, for had the motors been wrenched from their
beds they would have crashed through the roof of the sleigh and
sealed the fate of all on board.
During the whole time the work of refitting the sleigh was in
progress, Leslie and Guy slept like logs. It was not until twelve
hours later that they awoke, to find Captain Stormleigh in the cabin.
"Mr. Ranworth insists upon going," declared the skipper ruefully.
"He's not fit. I told him so, and he promptly remarked that my
business was the safety and navigation of the ship. He's right there,
of course, but I did my best to persuade him to give up the idea."
"How about the doctor?" asked Leslie. "Can't he put his foot down?"
Captain Stormleigh shook his head.
"He did, but it was of no use. Mr. Ranworth told him he had done his
duty by expressing his opinion as a medical man. 'I'm going at my
risk, not yours, Doctor,' he declared. 'So don't say any more about
it.'"
"How is the weather, sir?" asked Guy.
"'Moderating," announced Captain Stormleigh. "The wind's veered a
bit, so the creek is now fairly sheltered. The northerly wind is the
only one we feel here. But what I'm here for is this: Mr. Ranworth
sends his compliments and wishes to know whether you'll be ready by
ten o'clock."
"Yes, sir, at ten o'clock," replied both lads promptly, and without
more ado they proceeded to get ready for their second journey into
the interior of the desolate Nova Cania.
As soon as they had had a good meal, the lads went on deck. The
_Polarity_ was no longer in her former berth. She had proceeded five
miles farther up the creek, so as to be nearer to the only
practicable landing-place, and in fact within sight of the glacier.
The damage to the roof of the cabin had already been made good. The
motors were once more in working order, and charged ready for a
thirty hours' run.
John Ranworth was standing with Captain Stormleigh under the break of
the poop. His arm was in a sling, his face was pale and pinched, but
the resolute look in his eyes was the same as ever. His indomitable
spirit rose above bodily injuries. Rightly or wrongly, he was firmly
resolved to take charge of the _Bird of Freedom_ in her second dash
to Observation Camp.
"Good morning, lads," he exclaimed cheerily. "I thought you would
raise no objection to accompanying me. We're taking a strong crew
this time. There's Symonds, Purvis, Johnson, and Wilson."
The lads knew the men by name. They were all deck hands. Ranworth,
out of consideration for the good service already performed by the
lads, had refused the eager requests of some of the ship's officers
to take part in the second rescue expedition.
If the next attempt were completely successful, the _Bird of Freedom_
would have to carry fifteen on the return journey; for, in addition
to her new crew, numbering seven, there were five Russians, two
members of Claude Ranworth's party, and O'Donovan.
Before the sleigh set out on its errand, glasses were brought to bear
upon the seaward end of the glacier.
It was found that, following the breaking away of of the ice, which
had all but sealed the fate of the _Bird of Freedom_, a comparatively
easy gradient had been formed about eighty yards to the left of the
spot where the sleigh had taken the water. Moreover, the ice appeared
of a bluish tint, which meant that it was stronger and not so liable
to break as the white ice.
Ranworth, in order to save his arm from additional injury, had taken
his place in the cabin of the sleigh when the _Bird of Freedom_ was
lowered over the side by means of the derrick.
Leslie and Guy and the four seamen promptly clambered on board, and
since there was very little motion, the task of disengaging the span
hooks was a simple matter.
Amidst the good wishes of the rest of the _Polarity's_ crew,
expressed in the old-fashioned way of giving three rousing cheers,
the sleigh gathered speed and steered for the selected landing-place
on the glacier.
Although the wind was still blowing freshly from the nor'-west, the
_Bird of Freedom_ made rapid progress. Without a hitch she surmounted
the glacier and gained the open ground beyond.
An hour later she was passing through the defile in which the mammoth
had been discovered. The strong wind had set a considerable portion
of the landslide into further motion, with the result that the
general slope of the debris was more gradual, while the gigantic
frozen mammoth was uncovered as far as the forequarters.
"We'll have those tusks," reiterated Ranworth, "even if we have to
make a third journey for them. If, however, we find that the sleigh
makes light of her load, we'll stop and get the things on board on
the return journey."
Ranworth, of course, could take no manual part in the management of
the sleigh. He had to be content to sit at one of the two foremost
scuttles, while Guy and the four seamen took turns at the
steering-wheel. Leslie, having satisfied himself that the motors were
running well, was able to "stand easy," since there seemed no
immediate necessity to check their speed.
In exactly four hours from the time of starting from the ship, the
_Bird of Freedom_ stopped at Observation Camp.
"All correct, sir," announced O'Donovan. "Faith, I'm far from being
fed up with bear steaks yet. Sure, 'tis a fine place to cultivate an
appetite. But what has happened to your arm, sir, if I may make so
bold as to ax?"
Ranworth, as impatient as ever, was anxious to commence the return
journey. The remaining members of the expedition were allowed to take
their personal belongings. The Russians, having lost theirs, were
soon ready.
One package only did Ranworth order to be brought into the cabin and
the transporting of it was entrusted to Leslie and Guy. It was the
lump of platinum, the value of which would more than cover twice the
cost of the expedition.
By means of a rope made fast round the fur coverings, the lads
dragged the precious metal to the side of the sleigh with little
difficulty; but the task of lifting it up to the door in the side of
the cabin was beyond them. Even when Symonds, the "strong man" of the
party, bore a hand, the comparatively small package refused to be
lifted from the ground.
"It's as heavy as lead," he growled.
"It so happens it's almost double the weight of an equal bulk of
lead," remarked Leslie, "and it's ever so much more valuable than
gold."
Eventually, by means of a tackle, the lump of platinum was taken on
board and lashed down to the floor immediately in front of the
engine-bed.
"I think we can dispense with a couple of hundredweight of those
tinned provisions, Leslie," said Ranworth. "We won't need them, and
they'll come in handy should we at some future time fit out another
Nova Cania expedition. Get the men to stow them in one of the huts,
only look sharp. The glass is falling, and I don't like the look of
the sky. We are in for another blizzard, unless I'm much mistaken, so
the sooner we get on board the _Polarity_ the better."
At length the _Bird of Freedom_ set out on her return, and, as the
lads devoutly hoped, the final journey. By this time the wind had
backed, and was now dead astern. With this circumstance in their
favour, a speedy run was anticipated.
"We are in sight of the mammoth, sir," reported Guy, for Ranworth was
resting in his bunk. "Do you wish us to stop?"
"How's the glass?" asked Ranworth.
"Still falling, sir."
"And with a northerly wind. It doesn't mean much."
Guy did not reply, but he recalled his chief's misgivings an hour
previously.
"We'll stop," decided Ranworth. "I'll go with the men. Tell them to
bring axes and saws, and some canvas and rope."
The _Bird of Freedom_ was brought to a standstill under the lee of a
projecting part of the cliff, but at a sufficient distance to be out
of danger of any landslide that might occur.
Ranworth, holding an iron-shod pole in his sound hand, led the way,
accompanied by Guy and three seamen. Leslie remained on board with
the Russians, the rest of the members of the original expedition, and
Symonds and O'Donovan.
Scrambling up the sloping mass of rock and ice, the men began their
task of sawing through the two enormous ivory tusks. It was a
difficult business, for the tusks were as hard as iron, while
frequently they had to run as hard as they could to avoid masses of
rock, which tumbled over the cliffs.
"It's blowing jolly hard up there, Guy," remarked Ranworth. "We don't
feel it much down here, and it's fortunate that the _Polarity_ came
farther up the creek. She'd feel it pretty severely on her old
moorings."
"It's beginning to snow, sir," said Guy, as a few flakes scuttled
past.
"By Jove, yes. Hurry up, men. You've sawn enough. Clap a rope round
the tusks and haul away."
Ranworth was sorry to have to give the order. It meant the risk of
spoiling a portion of the ivory; but it was either that or having to
abandon the tusks indefinitely.
The seamen obeyed promptly. They regarded the sawing as a hard,
unnecessary task. The ivory meant nothing to them, beyond a relic of
some worthless old fossil.
With a sharp crack the first tusk fell upon the frozen ground. The
fracture was a clean one.
"Well done!" exclaimed Ranworth, as the men dragged the mass of ivory
to where he stood. "Now for the other one."
Before the men could return to their task, the whole of the cliffs
trembled violently. Disturbed by a violent gust of wind, the
snow-field on the top of the surrounding hill was set in motion.
"Run for your lives, men," shouted Ranworth. "There's an avalanche
upon you."
With a rush and roar thousands of tons of ice, snow, and rock swept
over the edge of the cliff and crashed into the valley beneath.
Almost by a miracle Ranworth and his companions escaped being buried
by the irresistible fall of debris. When the powdered dust from the
broken ice had subsided, neither the mammoth nor its severed tusk was
visible. Both lay buried under thirty feet of snow and rubble.