CHAPTER XI

CROSSING THE ICE BARRIER

"TURN out, all hands!"

Leslie opened his eyes, aroused by an imperative order resounding throughout the limited expanse of the _Bird of Freedom's_ cabin.

The speaker was John Ranworth. Refreshed by his profound sleep, he had completely regained his customary energy. The absolute necessity for haste urged him to waste not a moment more. The passage across the ice-barrier having been found practicable, he was determined to follow up his advantage without further delay.

Guy was still drowsy when aroused; Rogers and Payne, somewhat surly at being awakened, were inclined to resume their dispute concerning the weighty matter of the "two half-dollars."

The _Bird of Freedom_ was still held to the ice by the two cables, but during the time her crew had been asleep the gradient had increased still more. From the water's edge to the mean level of the rest of the ice was a slippery slope as steep as the high-pitched roof of a house, its surface marked only by the half obliterated notches which Payne had cut some time previously.

"There's no time to be lost," declared Ranworth. "Get her fairly on the ice and we can have breakfast while we are moving. Look alive, Leslie, with the motor, or we'll be baulked."

While the two seamen were unmooring and coiling away the rope, Leslie started the engines, coupled up the air propellers, and lowered the "decapod" wheels.

"All ready, sir," he reported.

"Then, easy ahead," ordered Ranworth.

Having manoeuvred the _Bird of Freedom_ until she was bows on to the obstacle, Ranworth brought her slowly towards the lowermost visible part of the slope, until the two foremost wheels touched the ice.

For a brief instant the forepart of the sleigh reared itself clear of the water; then, with a dull splash, it slipped backwards. Even the spiked wheels could obtain no grip on the hard, polished surface.

Again and again the _Bird of Freedom_ returned to the charge, but without success.

"If only we could get the whole under surface of both bands to grip, we would manage it," declared Ranworth. "Come aft, all hands, and see if we can lift the bows clear of the water."

Manipulating the steering gear by means of two cords fixed to two opposite points of the wheel, Ranworth made yet another attempt. This time the sleigh drew itself completely clear of the water.

Success seemed within the grasp of her crew, when the wheels began to race, sending out showers of crushed ice. With a thud that threatened to break her back, the _Bird of Freedom_ belied her name by slipping backwards into the sea.

"Try the runners, sir," suggested Rogers. "If she won't crawl over the ice like a blessed caterpillar p'r'aps she'll slide over it."

"Very good," assented Ranworth.

The steel runners were lowered to transfer the weight of the sleigh from the caterpillar wheels, and the air propellers were again put in motion.

This time, success seemed even more within their grasp, for under the action of the huge propellers, the sleigh ran more than half-way up the incline. Then her pace began to diminish appreciably, until she came to a standstill within her own length of the summit of the slope, the traction of the propellers being just sufficient to overcome the force of gravity.

"If we could only get out a rope," suggested Guy.

"What would be the use?" asked Payne. "And how are we a-going to do it? I don't mind any level risk, but I'd think twice before venturing on that ice with those propellers a-running like mad!"

"Ease her gently and let her slide back," decided Ranworth. "We're only wasting current uselessly."

Slowing down the motors sufficiently to check her descent, the _Bird of Freedom_ returned yet again to the surface of the water.

"I certainly cannot see how a rope will help us, Guy," said Ranworth. "It must be led straight ahead to get any result out of the strain, and it's a moral cert. the tips of the propeller blades will foul it; then, good-bye to the propellers. We must, I'm afraid, give up further attempts to land here, and try again some way to the west'ard."

"We've some canvas aboard, sir, I believe?" asked Leslie.

"Yes, a couple of bolts--why?"

"If we could lay them on the ice, one strip in the track of each pair of wheels, the caterpillars would be able to obtain a grip."

"By Jove, yes!" ejaculated Ranworth. "Leslie, you're a brick. We'll try it." Then, in a lower tone he added: "I can't quite make out what is the matter with Rogers and Payne. They may be a bit off colour, but they seem almost on the verge of mutiny." Payne, quick of hearing, overheard Ranworth's words.

"Mutiny, eh?" he repeated. "Don't know so much about that, sir; but me and my mate didn't sign on for no monkey tricks in this blessed hooker. Give us a seaworthy craft and we are game. So if you want to fool about with good canvas, you jolly well do it yourself. What say you, mate?"

"I'm with you," repeated Rogers, hesitatingly. "I'm fed up with this 'ere contraption."

Ranworth made a step forward and planted himself squarely in front of the first speaker.

"Look here, Payne," he said sternly. "You saved our lives some little time ago, and we are grateful. Now you are trying to undo all the good you have done, and threaten to imperil the success of the undertaking. Perhaps you are still feeling the effects of the night on the ice. So do your duty, and I'll overlook your behaviour."

"Supposin' I don't feel inclined?" demanded Payne.

"Then I shall take steps to compel you."

Payne laughed insolently.

"Remember we are two to one," he said. "You can't reckon them two youngsters; they don't count when it comes to the compelling part of the show."

With a quick movement Ranworth stepped backwards for a couple of paces and whipped out a revolver.

"Either you'll knuckle under before I count ten, or you are a dead man, Payne," he said in level tones. "One--two--three----"

"Might just as well have a bullet in my hide as----"

"Four."

"Snuff it by inches in this----"

"Five."

"Snuff it by inches, I says,"

"Six."

"--In this rotten box of tricks."

"Seven."

"Here, I say,"

"Eight."

"Hold on, sir. I was a-sayin'----"

"Nine."

"Drop that pistol, sir. I'll give in. What do you want us to do?"

"That's sensible," said Ranworth grimly. "Now get to work sharply, and I'll take a lenient view of the affair. The pair of you must go ashore and carry a couple of grapnels up to the top of the slope. There you'll wedge the flukes and await orders."

The _Bird of Freedom_ having been brought alongside the ice, the two seamen, armed with ice-axes, proceeded to recut the niches in the sloping ice. This done, they carried the two grapnels, with ropes attached, to the place Ranworth had indicated. Although they showed no zeal in their work, the men did their part satisfactorily.

"Now, Leslie," continued Ranworth, "help me to unroll the canvas. My word, I'm sorry this has happened. We can't trust these fellows. It will mean our being always on our guard. We'll have to take turn and turn about in snatching a few hours' sleep. By the bye, this revolver isn't loaded. I'll put that matter right at once."

Both lads realised the danger of being shipmates with two insubordinate men. Prudence would have suggested returning to the _Polarity_ and making a fresh start with more reliable hands. Even Ranworth revolved the thought over in his mind, but the urgent call for assistance from his brother's party compelled him to push forward at all costs. Enough time had already been spent in fruitless efforts and exasperating delays.

Having unrolled the two bolts, Ranworth attached one end of each rope to the end of each strip of canvas. Then, ordering the men to haul in, he proceeded to pay out the material until a double track of canvas extended up the slope. To prevent the fabric from slipping, it was firmly secured to the grapnels. Again the motors were started, the decapod wheels being brought into play. As the _Bird of Freedom's_ forepart touched the ice, the canvas began to give, yet the wheels gripped.

"It's only the stretch being taken out of the stuff," said Ranworth, reassuringly. "She'll do it, by Jove."

He was right in his surmise. Slowly, but yet surely, the huge bulk of the _Bird of Freedom_ raised itself from the water. The wheels, taking a firm hold of the canvas, groaned under the strain. Fortunate it was that the canvas was new and of tough material. Up and up climbed the sleigh, till, toppling over the ridge of the summit of the slope, it gained the comparatively level ground beyond.

As soon as the grapnels had been removed from their holding places, and the canvas recovered and rolled up, Rogers and Payne came on board again. They were still morose, and curtly accepting their shares of the meal which Guy had prepared, they retired to the farthermost part of the after-cabin.

"They may feel better tempered after a good feed," remarked Ranworth. "For the present I prefer to ignore their presence."

Seven minutes from the time of starting from the southern limit of the ice-barrier, the _Bird of Freedom_ glissaded down a gently-shelving slope and gained the water beyond. Only twenty miles of comparatively open sea lay between them and the nearmost point of Nova Cania.

"So this is what they call the early breaking up of the ice," remarked Ranworth, as he looked astern in the direction of the rapidly receding "pack." "The _Polarity_ is jammed in by one big floe. She has still to find a way through that barrier. We'll be lucky if we see her at Desolation Inlet on our return."

Leslie and Guy had already forgotten the hardships they had undergone. In the well-warmed cabin, refreshed by sleep, and having fed, they felt quite comfortable. Under these conditions, the dreary aspect of the frozen ice lost its terrors.

"Guy," said Mr. Ranworth after a while, "you might relieve me at the helm. Keep a sharp look-out for growlers. I've had to dodge a good many masses of floating ice. You'll soon get accustomed to the steering-gear."

Glad of an opportunity of doing something, Guy took the wheel.

"That's the course," continued Ranworth, indicating the compass, "north 88 degrees east. I'll snatch forty winks. Turn me out directly you sight land."

Ranworth had given Guy the helm with a double purpose. He knew that, owing to the strained relations on board, it was necessary for some one to be constantly on the watch. He also realised that there was always a chance of his being put out of action. With a second helmsman, the _Bird of Freedom_ would still be able to keep going.

For nearly an hour Guy stuck to the helm. Several times he had to alter course to avoid detached masses of floating ice.

"Leslie," he exclaimed. "What do you make of that?"

Right ahead, and as far to east and west as the eye could discern, rose a lofty, irregular line of glistening white, partly obscured in places by motionless clouds of light, fleecy vapour.

"Another berg!" ejaculated Leslie. "The others were mere mole-hills compared with this. It will take something to dodge that. I'll call Mr. Ranworth."

Ranworth, although newly awakened from sleep, was on the alert in an instant. Tumbling out of his bunk he hastened to the foremost scuttle.

"That's not a berg," he announced calmly. "It's solid earth covered with snow. This is your first acquaintance with Nova Cania."