THE LOST "BIRD OF FREEDOM"
"'So much for Buckingham!'" ejaculated Ranworth, as he viewed the
scene of desolation. "Never mind, Let's get back to the sleigh. It
might have been a jolly sight worse."
As the disappointed men retraced their steps, the snow began to fall
heavily. The expected blizzard was upon them.
Suddenly a terrible uproar came from the _Bird of Freedom_. Voices
could be heard shouting discordantly, while above the crash of
woodwork rang out the sharp crack of a pistol.
Without a moment's hesitation, Ranworth broke into a run, Guy and the
seamen following his example; but, by the time they reached the
sleigh, the uproar had entirely subsided.
"What's the matter, Leslie?" demanded Ranworth.
"Symonds, sir; the man must have suddenly gone off his head. We had
to secure and gag him."
"Thank goodness it isn't any worse," murmured Ranworth. "I thought
the Russians had cut up rough about something."
"They did," rejoined Leslie. "Luckily for us they saved the
situation."
The cabin of the _Bird of Freedom_ presented a picture of utter
disorder. In several places the interior panelling was smashed,
fragments of cabin furniture lay scattered in all directions. On the
floor bound hand and foot, and with a gag securely fixed in his
mouth, was the seaman Symonds.
Leslie's surmise was correct. The man had suddenly gone mad. Under
the delusion that the lump of platinum was his personal property, he
had hurled himself upon one of the two Russians who unwittingly had
touched the metal with his foot.
Although the Russian was a powerfully built fellow, he was weakened
by the privations he had undergone, and was in consequence no match
for the infuriated seaman.
His compatriot, coming to his aid, was threatened with a rifle which
the madman had torn from the arms rack. Fortunately O'Donovan gave
the weapon a sharp upward knock just as Symonds pressed the trigger,
and the bullet went completely through the roof and mushroomed
against the metal eye-bolt without.
Then ensued a fierce hand-to-hand struggle as O'Donovan and the
Russians strove to overpower their unfortunate comrade. It was not
until one of the Russians succeeded in slipping a running noose round
the maniac's legs, that Symonds was capsized and bound hand and foot.
"Get her going, Leslie," said Ranworth, quietly. "We've lost enough
time already."
During the last few minutes the blizzard had burst with all its fury
upon the narrow valley. Although the wind was right aft, the whirling
masses of snow made it impossible to see more than a few yards ahead.
"Decapods, sir?" asked Leslie.
"Yes--ten miles an hour. Come along, Guy, take the helm and keep your
eyes skinned."
Gradually gathering way, the _Bird of Freedom_ ploughed along through
the newly-fallen snow. Her whole fabric trembled under the
hammer-like blows of the wind.
So long as the sleigh was in the defile, there was little chance of
getting out of the proper route, although there was always the danger
of being crushed by the masses of debris which were continually
falling from the cliffs.
On board, hardly a word was spoken. With the exception of the two
foremost ones, all the observation scuttles were thickly caked with
frozen snow. Unable to see anything without, the rest of the
passengers and crew sat on the floor, since standing was attended
with grave risks whenever the sleigh jolted over the drifts or tilted
under the force of the wind.
Several times Guy was just in time to give the wheel half a turn and
thus save the _Bird of Freedom_ from coming into violent contact with
a projecting boulder. His coolness did not desert him in spite of the
nerve-racking strain, yet he would have given almost anything to have
handed the wheel over to some one else. "Hadn't we better slow down,
sir?" he asked at length, for the snow was now falling with
increasing violence.
"No, carry on," was Ranworth's reply. "It's all plain going now,
until we approach the head of the glacier. We can't go wrong."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a gigantic boulder seemed
to leap through the snow towards the sleigh.
Giving the wheel a sudden wrench, Guy strove to avoid the
obstruction, but as the _Bird of Freedom_ swerved, a powerful gust of
wind struck her fairly on her broadside. The next instant the sleigh,
skidding violently, crashed into the mass of rock.
With a hideous rending of metal and woodwork, the _Bird of Freedom_
turned completely over on her side and slid bodily down a steep bank,
finally bringing up against another jagged mass of hard granite.
Of what occurred during the next quarter of an hour, neither Leslie
nor Guy knew. They were both in a semi-dazed condition, and barely
aware that a calamity had happened. It was very dark in the upturned
cabin, for the scuttles which were not crushed against the ice were
covered in fallen snow.
Presently Guy put his hand to his forehead, and upon removing it,
found it covered with warm and sticky moisture. His head was bleeding
freely from a cut extending from his right eyebrow to his left
temple.
"Leslie!" he exclaimed. "Are you there?"
"Hullo!"
In spite of his surroundings, Guy laughed.
"Sounds like a conversation on the telephone," he remarked. "But, I
say, what a smash up!"
"Might have been worse," growled a deep voice which the lads
recognised as Wilson's. "It's lucky there are some of us left alive.
I thought I was the only bloke what wasn't knocked out."
"You ain't, then," chimed in another lusty voice--Johnson's this
time. "Can't we get a light and see how things stand? Strikes me this
ain't all shipshape and Bristol fashion."
Leslie thereupon remembered that in one of the racks was an electric
torch. The rack was above his head, and out of arm's reach, for the
other side of the cabin was the floor.
"Here you are, sir," announced Wilson. "I've been sitting on a
hurricane lamp. The glass has gone to blazes, and most of the oil,
but maybe you'll be able to get it to light."
"I've no matches," declared Guy.
"No more have I," added the seaman. "I'll collar Purvis' box. He's
close to me, 'cause I can feel his beard and I guess he's in no fit
state to object."
Wilson fumbled with the straps of his unfortunate comrade's fur coat,
and presently succeeded in extricating a box of matches from the
man's under coat pocket.
The lamp when lighted gave but a fitful glimmer, but it was
sufficient to reveal the state of affairs within the overturned
cabin.
Men were lying listlessly in every conceivable attitude. Most of them
had been rendered unconscious by the terrific shock. In one corner a
Russian was sitting up and stolidly supporting a broken arm. Two more
of the airship's crew had escaped serious injury, and were
philosophically keeping silence in spite of being bruised from head
to foot.
Symonds, the man who had lost his reason, was dead. Examination
showed that the lump of platinum had burst its securing lashings, and
had crashed through the side of the cabin, instantly killing the
madman in its wild course. Even now its weight was taking it slowly
down to the bottom of the glacier, whence in the course of centuries
it would be carried by the moving ice to the sea.
Quickly those who were able to move set to work to assist their less
fortunate comrades. Buried beneath four unconscious forms, they found
Ranworth, motionless, but still alive.
Of the fifteen who formed the complement of the _Bird of Freedom_,
eight were obviously unfit for further duty, most of them for many a
long day. Only Leslie, Guy, O'Donovan, Johnson, Wilson, and two
Russians were capable of taking any part in the task of extricating
themselves from their dangerous position.
"What do you propose to do, O'Donovan?" asked Guy.
Although recognised as the acting skipper of the _Bird of Freedom_
while she was capable of motion, the lad now realised that
O'Donovan's experience rendered him more suitable to direct
operations.
"Do? Sure, sit tight for a bit," replied the seaman. "'Tis certain
death to go out with this blizzard blowing. When the weather
moderates, some of us will have to go for assistance. Have you any
notion of how far we be from the inlet, Master Guy?"
"Only three miles, I think."
"Only three miles? You don't know what three miles means in these
parts when you've got to foot every inch of the way. So I make so
bold as to suggest that we tidy up a bit and wait."
"Suppose we are buried in the snow?" asked Leslie.
"Sure, we're that already," rejoined O'Donovan. "That's why it's so
warm here considering there's half a dozen holes at least knocked
through our hull. We can dig ourselves out in good time. What I don't
like is the chance of another of those heavy launches."
O'Donovan's fear of another avalanche was justified, for the glacier
was confined between two lowering cliffs from which ice and rubble
were continually falling. At intervals the dull roar of the slipping
debris could be heard distinctly by the occupants of the cabin.
For the next hour, first aid kept the seven men busily engaged. Then,
having seen their patients as comfortable as possible on cushions
spread upon the capsized side of the cabin, they prepared a meal.
"Two thousand pounds' worth of good machinery utterly wrecked, old
man," said Leslie dolefully, as he examined the motors upon which he
had lavished so much care and attention.
Even the stout metal bolts which held the motors to their bed-plates
had been unable to withstand the sudden strain. The intricate
machinery was only partly visible in a jagged gap in the side of the
cabin, while the sulphuric and nitric acids were already eating away
every bit of metal work with which they came in contact.
"What's that?" asked Guy anxiously, as a long-drawn creak sounded
above his head.
"The weight of snow pressing on top of the cabin," replied O'Donovan.
"Faith! 'Tis to be hoped it will hold, for there must be nigh on ten
feet of snow above us. In three or four hours' time it will be frozen
hard."
"We ought to be preparing for our dash to the inlet," said Leslie.
"We have to consider what we're to take."
"We'll travel light, of course, sir," declared Wilson.
"And supposing it's too rough to get on board?"
"Then it won't be fit for us to make a move," rejoined Wilson with
conviction. "But, perhaps, all the same, sir, we ought to take some
grub and some firewood. One never knows."
Accordingly Leslie set aside a small quantity of provisions. He could
not spare much, since, on Ranworth's orders, most of the tinned stuff
had been left at Observation Camp. Firewood was necessary, since no
fuel other than that brought ashore was obtainable.
The two uninjured Russians, on being told of the proposed journey,
expressed their readiness to take part in the dash to the inlet;
while, in order to transport the meagre stock of stores and
provisions, they set to work to convert the cabin table into a small
sleigh.
This they did by sawing the flap in halves lengthwise, since the
breadth of the sleigh was limited to the widest dimensions of the
hatchway. The runners they made from planks taken from the cabin
floor and rounded off at each end so as to offer the least possible
resistance to the frozen ground.
By this time there was nearly a foot of water in the cabin. Through
the broken scuttles long cones of frozen snow were being forced by
the pressure from without. These, melting in the warmth of the cabin,
threatened to add considerably to the discomforts of the imprisoned
men.
"Time to cut our way out," announced O'Donovan. "It would be better
to knock up a snow hut for those who remain behind. If we're lucky,
we ought to save all the provisions. Set to, mates, it's a long way
to the top."
Thus encouraged, Wilson and Johnson, armed with an axe and shovel,
threw open the hatch, which, formerly in a horizontal position, was
now almost perpendicular.
Plying their tools vigorously, and heaping the displaced snow in one
corner of the cabin, they commenced the tunnel to the open air,
working in a diagonal direction in order to make communication with
the cabin easier.
Every quarter of an hour the diggers were relieved, taking turns with
the two Russians. At length daylight was seen to be filtering through
the snow. The tunnel was nearing completion, steps being cut at
regular intervals.
"We're through," shouted Wilson triumphantly; then he added: "And it
ain't half snowing."
"Up with you!" exclaimed O'Donovan. "Every man take a shovel. We'll
haul up some of that canvas. It may serve as a shelter until we build
the hut."
Into the blinding snow the seven workers made their way. After
strenuous efforts, a square of canvas was set up to prevent the snow
blocking the newly-made tunnel, then all hands set to work to build a
hut.
It was a toilsome task. Encumbered by their fur clothing and mittens,
their faces cut with the frozen flakes, the seven manfully stuck to
their work.
At the end of two hours a shelter measuring roughly fifteen feet by
seven was erected and covered in by means of planks removed from the
cabin. These were quickly covered with snow, which speedily froze
into a solid block, while the drifts which accumulated on the weather
side served still further to render the shelter proof against the
strongest gales.
Yet there was no respite for the weary toilers. Furs were brought
from the cabin and laid upon the floor of the hut. One by one the
injured men were carried up the slanting tunnel and tenderly placed
in the hut.
This done, the Russians hauled up their sleigh, which, until the men
were ready to set out, was to serve as a door.
Thrice the lads descended into the now deeply buried _Bird of
Freedom_, returning each time heavily laden with eatables, while the
Russians busied themselves with obtaining fuel and oil.
On the fourth occasion, Leslie was half-way through the tunnel, when
one of the Russians raced up the steps, and grasping the lad by the
shoulders literally forced him back to the open air.
As he did so, the frozen snow shook beneath their feet, and with a
rending crash the shell of the _Bird of Freedom_ collapsed under the
irresistible strain.
Once more Leslie Ward had escaped death by a hair's-breadth.