Chapter XV: The North Pole

AT the twenty-third hour after leaving Portsmouth the "Meteor" came to rest on the ice under the lee of Cape Columbia and within three hundred yards of the "New Resolute," the ship of the British Arctic Expedition.

News of the airship's approach had already been communicated by wireless, and as she gracefully settled upon the ice she was greeted by three tremendous cheers from the crew of the ship.

But Dacres knew nothing of this. As soon as Cape Columbia had been sighted he went to his cabin to snatch a few hours' well-earned and needed sleep. For the time being his responsibility was not in request.

Compared with the severity of the climate above the Greenland plateau the temperature at Cape Columbia was milder. The "New Resolute," although moored to the ice, was still afloat, and sheltered from all gales by the land-locked harbour.

From the captain the "Meteor's" people soon had a fairly definite idea of the state of affairs.

Lieutenant Cardyke, with four men, had pushed on towards the pole, the party being accompanied by thirty-two Esquimo dogs. A portable wireless installation had been taken, so that the progress and welfare of the expedition could be communicated to the base.

Favoured by fine weather Cardyke and his companions made rapid progress compared with the distance covered by previous Arctic explorers. They reported that the hummocks gave considerable trouble, but there was no sign of open water.

Then with startling suddenness all wireless communication was broken off. A rescue party immediately set off, only to find that at a point 150 miles north of Cape Columbia their progress was checked by an expanse of open, agitated sea that had been formed by the separation of the ice-fields since Cardyke had traversed them. Reluctantly the second party had to turn back, and were almost hourly expected by the "New Resolute."

The "Meteor" did not wait long at Cape Columbia. Having secured the services of two junior lieutenants to assist in the navigation of the airship, Whittinghame started on the 500 mile journey to the North Pole.

Greatly to the relief of all on board, the motors began to work without the faintest hitch. The cordite fired at once. Had petrol been the fuel it was quite possible that the low temperature would have greatly diminished its efficacy. Parsons was most enthusiastic over the matter. Although at first dubious about substituting cordite for petrol he was now firmly convinced that a perfect ignition charge had been found.

Within half an hour after leaving Cape Columbia the "Meteor" passed over the relief party, who were dejectedly making their way back to the ship. A greater contrast would be difficult to find: the airship cutting rapidly and evenly through the air at three miles a minute; and half a dozen men, looking more like bundles of fur, plodding painfully along, glad to be able to cover two miles an hour. Even the dogs seemed to share their masters' dejection. Yet failure of the rescue party did not prevent them from waving their arms to the fleeting airship, a compliment that the "Meteor," by reason of her speed, was unable to return.

When at length Dacres awoke he knew by the motion of the airship that the "Meteor" was again under way. Quickly he made his way for'ard, to find two strangers in charge of the navigation room.

"It's all right," said Whittinghame genially. "There's no slur upon your prowess as a navigation officer, Dacres. We've obtained reliefs for you. Allow me to introduce Mr. Quinton and Mr. Baskett to you."

Armed with powerful binoculars Whittinghame and his assistants swept the snow-field. According to the opinion of the "New Resolute's" officers the airship was now fairly close to the spot where Cardyke was last heard of. There was nothing to indicate the tracks of the sledges; a recent fall of snow had accounted for that. All they could hope to do was to pick out some outstanding object, such as a tent or a snow hut, where the young officer and his four men might be sheltering.

Speed had been reduced to fifty miles an hour, while frequently the "Meteor" made a deviation in order to give the look-out an opportunity to examine a dark patch upon the white waste. Invariably the patch turned out to be the shadow of a hammock cast by the slanting rays of the ever-present sun, till Dr. Hambrough called his companions' attention to a dark speck away on the starboard bow.

Round swung the "Meteor," the eyes of the watchers riveted on a fluttering object that rapidly resolved itself into a flag. More, the flag was a Union Jack. Close to it, and hitherto invisible, was a rounded hut made of blocks of ice, and half-buried in the snow.

"There they are!" exclaimed Setchell excitedly.

"I'm afraid not," said Lieutenant Baskett. "I can see no signs of their skis or of the sledges. But we're on their track, that's one blessing."

Again the "Meteor" descended. Whittinghame would not run the risk of detaching one of the compartments, especially as there was abundant room for the whole length of the airship to settle evenly. Her anchors held admirably in the rough ice, and with hardly a tremor she brought up on terra firma.

Quickly the entry port was opened and the rope-ladder dropped. Whittinghame was the first to land, quickly followed by Dacres and the two naval lieutenants.

With beating hearts they made their way over the ice and snow till they gained the hut, the four men gravely saluting the national flag as they passed by.

The doorway of the ice-hut had been blocked up--not by drifting snow but by human hands. Whether this had been done from the inside or from without could not at present be determined. The ice was as hard as iron.

In response to a signal to the "Meteor," three of the crew came up with ice-axes and shovels, and began a fierce attack upon the door. When the obstruction was removed the Captain entered.

His fears were realized. The hut was empty.

"Here's a tin containing some documents," he announced. "By Jove! Cardyke claims that this is the North Pole."

"He can't be so very far out," said Lieutenant Quinton. "Does he say anything about the route?"

"No, only that he is returning after verifying his position, and asks that the finder of the document should transmit it, if possible, to the Admiralty."

"Run and fetch my sextant, Williamson," said Dacres.

"And mine," added Baskett.

Before the men could return Whittinghame pointed to a staff projecting a few inches from the ground. Attached to it were the fragments of a flag, and by dint of removing a couple of feet of snow the nationality of the flag became obvious. It had been the Stars and Stripes.

"Peary's flag, by Jove!" ejaculated Whittinghame. "All honour, gentlemen, to that intrepid American. Even if an Englishman were not the first to plant his country's flag at the North Pole there is no little consolation to be derived from the fact that an Anglo-Saxon established the priority."

When Williamson returned with the instruments the two officers made careful separate observations, afterwards checking each other's figures. There was no mistake. The rescue party was standing on the northern extremity of the Earth's axis.

"Well, this won't find Cardyke, gentlemen," said Whittinghame sharply, breaking in upon the reveries of his companions. "What do you propose to do? Return by a slightly different route?"

"Supposing Cardyke and his party are incapable of finding their way. They might be partially exhausted by their exertions and have blundered in a totally different direction," suggested Baskett.

"Such an instance is not unknown," added Quinton.

"Then I propose to make several ever-widening circles. We ought to command a field extending twenty-five miles from the Pole. Let us return to the 'Meteor.'"

Rising to a height of five hundred feet the airship began to circle. In five minutes she had passed through every one of the three hundred and sixty degrees of longitude.

Miles of dreary waste lay beneath them. There was nothing to mark the position of the North Pole save the almost invisible hut and two flags, and nothing to break the horizon where the white plain merged into the pale blue of the Arctic sky.

Presently Dacres discovered signs of open water. A broad sea, its coast-line extending through a hundred and eighty degrees of longitude, proved conclusively that Cardyke could not have blundered far in that direction. It was fairly evident the five men had retraced their steps. The question that puzzled Whittinghame was, how could the "Meteor" have missed the party on its flight to the Pole?

"We'll make our way back," he announced. "By keeping a zig-zag course we ought to come across some traces of them. Fifteen miles to the right and left of their supposed route ought to be ample."

To this the two naval officers agreed; but as the vertical rudders were being put hard over, Dacres called the Captain's attention to a dark object in a hollow at less than two miles off.

"It's far too large for a tent, Dacres," said Whittinghame. "But we may as well investigate. To me it looks like a----yes, by George, it is! It's a derelict balloon."

"André!" exclaimed Baskett.

"I think you are right," said Whittinghame.

"Yes, it has been a balloon. There is the car, half-buried in snow. Evidently in strong winds the snow-drifts are uncovered, or otherwise in twenty years the remains would be buried fathoms deep."

"Are you going to investigate, sir?" asked Dr. Hambrough.

"Much as I should like to," replied Whittinghame gravely, "I must decline. The claims of those who may yet be living are more pressing than those of the gallant dead. Perhaps, another time----"

He broke off abruptly to conceal his emotion, then having steadied the "Meteor" on her course, he relinquished the navigation into the hands of his able assistants.

For a long time no word was spoken. The memories of that mournful wreck deeply affected the spirits of the intrepid rescuers. They felt the irony of the situation, for had the gallant Frenchman delayed his ill-fated aerial voyage but a few years he might have been able to have made good use of a dirigible instead of drifting helplessly to his doom amid the awful solitudes of the Arctic.

Zig-zagging against the wind after the manner of a sailing-ship tacking, the "Meteor" resumed her quest. Two hours passed without result. The airship was now almost within sight of the newly-opened sea caused by the breaking up of the ice-floes.

The crew were almost despairing of success, for twice the supposed route of Cardyke's party had been examined. The Lieutenant and his men had left the Pole: they could not cross the barrier formed by the open sea. Where had they gone? Had they been buried beneath an almost irresistible blizzard? To add to the difficulties of the look-out, the sun was shining almost into the men's eyes, while an enormous tract of snow was covered by the reflected glare.

"We'll carry on till we are above the end of the pack-ice," said Whittinghame. "Then, if we haven't sighted them, we'll turn again and go back to the Pole. It is just possible----"

"What's that, sir?" interrupted Hambrough, his usually quiet manner giving place to intense excitability. "See! almost beneath us!"

In another fifteen seconds the "Meteor" would have overshot the mark. Signalling full speed astern, Whittinghame kept the spot indicated by the doctor under observation.

Five hundred feet below was a small black patch. It seemed so insignificant that it resembled a fur cap accidently dropped upon that trackless waste.

Under the retarding influence of the propellors the airship trembled so violently that it was almost an impossibility to bring glasses to bear upon the desired object, but when the "Meteor" lost way and orders had been given to the engineers to stop the motors, the occupants of the navigation-room were able to examine the solitary relic.

"By Jove!" ejaculated Dacres. "It's a tent. Look. There are the skis sticking up in the snow. Seven, eight, nine, ten of them. Then, the five men are there."

"Hurrah!" shouted Baskett. "Are you going to let off a rocket, or hail them, sir?"

"Neither," replied Whittinghame shortly. He was tremendously excited, only he knew that there was a chance that even now they might be too late.

Quickly the powerful pumps were set to work, and as the required number of ballonettes were exhausted the "Meteor" sank gently to the snow-clad ground. Thanks to the almost total absence of wind her anchors held without difficulty, although she had grounded nearly eight hundred yards to leeward of the tent.

Leaving Setchell in charge, the rest of the officers lost no time in descending the rope-ladder and making for the resting-place of the explorers. Somehow the rescuing party felt strained. They could hardly understand why, in almost perfect weather as far as the Polar climate went, the five men were not resuming their homeward march. The utter solitude of the black fur tent seemed ominous.

Although presenting the appearance of a level plain when viewed from above, the ground was rough, and encumbered with hummocks, while here and there deep but narrow fissures required care and skill on the part of the rescue party. Occasionally a deep groaning sound betokened the appalling fact that the ground was one vast ice-floe in momentary danger of breaking up.

If the five men were still alive, how could they be indifferent to the danger that now threatened them?

Whittinghame was the first to gain the tent. With numbed fingers he cut the lashings that secured the flaps of the outer and inner coverings and peered within.

Five fur-clad forms lay upon a pile of skins, their heads buried in their arms. Whether they were sleeping the long last sleep that knows no awakening in this world, Whittinghame could not tell. Nervelessly he backed out and signed to Dacres to enter.

"Dead?" asked Dacres laconically.