CHAPTER XV

JUST IN TIME

THE spirit of desolation appeared to hover over the camp. There were no signs of life. The recently fallen snow, now frozen hard, showed no footprints. Two or three boxes, a pile of fur packages, and the remains of three dog sleighs were visible, although partly covered in snow.

On the windward side of the huts, dome-shaped after the Esquimaux fashion, the snow had drifted almost level with the tops. The entrances, just wide enough for a man to crawl through, were curtained with furs.

Guarding against the possibility of the _Bird of Freedom_ being carried away by a gust, by the simple expedient of putting the balanced rudder over, Ranworth alighted, and, followed by Leslie and Guy, made his way to the nearest hut.

On his hands and knees Ranworth crawled through the tunnel-like entrance and thrust aside the curtain. The interior was in utter darkness, for his bulk effectively prevented any light from coming in through the opening.

Fumbling in the pocket of his fur coat, he produced an electric torch. The light revealed the fact that the hut was deserted. There were furs and implements lying in confusion. From the roof hung an oil lamp. Ranworth shook it. The reservoir was empty.

"No good here," he announced with bitter disappointment in his voice; and, without waiting for his companions to enter, he backed into the open air.

The second hut, upon examination, proved to be equally unsatisfactory. It contained only a few seals' skins, frozen as stiff as a board. The skins had been hurriedly taken from the animals, for pieces of frozen flesh still adhered to them. Nor had the seals been killed for the sake of their fur, for the skins were cut into irregular pieces.

It was quite evident that, like the unfortunate Russians, Claude Ranworth's party had had to exist on raw seals' flesh; yet the fact that they had contrived to find these amphibians forty or fifty miles from the sea was somewhat perplexing.

The third hut had a double curtain. The approach tunnel, too, was larger. The inner curtain, unlike those in the other huts, was secured.

As Ranworth fumbled to find the lashings, he heard a feeble voice exclaim:

"There's a bear, Tom; get your rifle, sharp."

"Hold on!" shouted Ranworth.

The curtain was torn aside. A cloud of oil-smelling smoke wafted out, causing Ranworth to cough and his eyes to fill with water. Literally gasping for breath, and unable to see, he waited, hunched upon his hands and knees.

"Hullo, Jack. You've come at last!" exclaimed a drowsy voice.

It was Claude Ranworth's greeting to his brother.

"Yes, old man, we're here," replied John Ranworth, and emerging from the tunnel he drew himself erect within the hut, while Leslie and Guy followed.

The sole illumination was derived from a piece of lighted cotton rag floating in a shallow bowl of oil and tallow. It revealed seven men, lying close together for mutual warmth and muffled in furs. Three of them were fast asleep, the others seemed more or less torpid.

Their gaunt faces, black with smoke from the lamp, betrayed extreme emaciation. Their rugged, unkempt beards made them look like decrepit old men.

One of them babbled incoherently, until Ranworth understood that he was begging for tea.

The scene appalled Leslie and Guy. If this were what Polar research meant, was the game worth the candle?

"Where are the others?" asked Ranworth.

"Done in--scurvy," was the reply. Then, "We're starving," he added huskily.

"Come out, all of you," ordered Ranworth.

It was necessary to speak sharply, for the luckless explorers were too listless to take much interest in anything. Unless they were promptly moved from the vile atmosphere, and given wholesome food, they would never reach Desolation Inlet again, much less the shores of Old England.

One by one the four men who were awake were assisted out and taken on board the _Bird of Freedom_. The remaining three, still in the deep sleep of utter weakness and exhaustion, had to be dragged into the open air and across the intervening stretch of frozen snow.

Fortunately O'Donovan had plenty of water boiling on the two spirit stoves, and meat extract and vegetable soup were soon forthcoming. So quickly did the rescued men wolf the food that they had to be restrained forcibly.

"Leslie," said Ranworth. "I'm in a regular hole. You see, we are only just in time here, yet fifteen or twenty miles from us are eight poor Russians in perhaps a worse plight. Now, if you were in my position, what would you do?"

"Run your brother's party back to Desolation Inlet; put them on board the _Polarity_, and return for the others, sir."

Ranworth shook his head.

"Won't do," he said. "For one thing, there's valuable time lost in going over the same ground twice. For another, I doubt whether the motors will hold out without recharging the storage batteries. Of course, it is highly desirable to get my brother and his comrades back on board, but I think, with fresh provisions and attendance, they ought to exist another twenty-four hours."

"I'll remain with them if you like, sir," suggested Leslie.

"I'd rather you came with me," declared Ranworth. "Of course, it is optional with you, but although I think I could manage to run the motors, I shouldn't feel equal to the occasion in the event of a breakdown. Guy, I suppose, would want to go with you; that leaves only O'Donovan, who, I feel sure, would be quite capable of looking after our eight patients."

"Eight?" queried Leslie.

"Yes, we must leave the Russian Dmitri. The other one will have to come with us, both as guide and interpreter, in the unlikely event of none of the others speaking French. Most Russian officers do, I know, but I prefer to take no unnecessary chances." O'Donovan, upon the subject being broached, willingly fell in with his chief's plans. While the rescued men were resting and regaining strength after their meal, the sailor busied himself with clearing out one of the huts. Into this he carried the spare spirit stove, a lamp, oil, and a supply of provisions sufficient to last a week.

"Look here, Claude," said his brother. "We'll have to leave you for a little longer. There is a party of Russians stranded over there somewhere----"

"Russians!" exclaimed Claude Ranworth. "Russians in Nova Cania? What for?"

"Don't be alarmed, old man," said his brother reassuringly. "They are not rivals. It is the force of circumstances. At any rate, one would think that you'd had your fair share of Nova Cania."

Claude gripped his brother's arm.

"Look here," he whispered eagerly. "In that hut where you found us is a lump of metal wrapped up in a sealskin. It doesn't look very big, but it's worth a fortune--it's pure platinum. Over yonder the place swarms with it."

"Hardly worth the risk," declared the matter-of-fact John Ranworth. "But we must see about getting a move on. You won't hurt for another few hours. We ought not to be very long. I'll just ask Petrovitch a few questions. He's quite fit to give lucid information now."

"North-north-east, I believe, monsieur," said the Russian, in reply to Ranworth's question as to the approximate position of his stranded comrades. "I think I could follow our course from the place where you found us, but from this place--no."

"I don't like retracing our course," declared Ranworth, "but I suppose we must do it, to avoid a wild-goose chase. Of course, you know that your tracks must be wiped out by the blizzard?"

"There are peculiar hummocks which I can recognise," said the Russian.

Suddenly an inspiration flashed across Ranworth's mind.

"I say, Claude," he exclaimed. "Did you happen to notice a cloud of black smoke away to the nor'-nor'-east about three weeks ago?"

"Yes," replied his brother. "But you weren't anywhere in the vicinity of Nova Cania at that time?"

"No," replied John Ranworth. "But what was it like? In what direction did it appear?"

"I can remember it well," continued Claude Ranworth. "It was about three o'clock in the morning. The sun was obscured, and overhead was a bank of heavy clouds. I saw a vivid flash reflected on the underside of the clouds, followed by a dull report. The interval between the flash and the report was seventy seconds according to my calculation, for I had no watch available."

"You were always pretty good at counting seconds," remarked Ranworth. "Then what happened?"

"A heavy cloud of smoke drifted in this direction. It hung about for nearly two hours before it finally dispersed."

"Can you indicate the actual direction of the flash?"

"Yes," replied Claude. "Do you see that hummock with a peculiar double crown? If you stand in front of the second hut from here, the crest of the hummock is practically in line with the place from which the flash emanated. But why are you so interested, Jack?"

"Because," said John Ranworth, "I have every reason to believe that the flash you saw was the explosion of the airship in which these Russians had been travelling."

Claude Ranworth made a gesture of annoyance.

"I thought I had observed an unusual seismic disturbance," he cried. "In fact, I immediately entered a detailed description of a supposed volcanic eruption in my log, meaning to send a report to the Royal Society. By the bye, that reminds me; if anything should happen to me during your absence, my scientific documents--I'm afraid I haven't kept them up-to-date--are under my sleeping bag. But I'm awfully sorry it wasn't an earthquake."

"So am I," agreed Ranworth. "It might have saved me a long journey."

He snatched up a piece of paper lying on the cabin table and worked out a short sum. Seventy seconds was the time given by Claude as having elapsed between the flash and the detonation. Allowing sound to travel at 365 yards a second, the distance worked out at just over fourteen miles.

His next step was to take a prismatic compass and set it in position outside the hut his brother had indicated. By taking a bearing of the twin-peaked hummock, he was able to fix the direction of the scene of the disaster to the Russian airship.

O'Donovan having reported that his preparations were complete, the seven surviving members of Claude Ranworth's party, and the Russian Dmitri, were taken off the sleigh and placed in the snow hut.

Without further delay, the _Bird of Freedom_ set off on her fourteen-mile journey to the rescue of the stranded aviators.

It was as well that Ranworth had thought to question his brother on the subject of the explosion. By so doing he saved himself the trouble and loss of valuable time in retracing his course until Petrovitch could pick up his trail. He also knew that the Russian had greatly overrated the distance.

Instead of being sixty miles from Desolation Inlet, the wrecked airship was about fifty miles from that harbour and fourteen from Observation Camp.

Before the sleigh had put half a mile between itself and the camp, the arm of a wide creek was passed on the left hand. The water was frozen over, except here and there where the ice had broken under its own pressure, and had piled itself up into irregular hummocks. Around these holes thousands of seals were congregated. The mystery of how Claude Ranworth's party obtained their seals was now solved.

"What a pity we didn't know of this before, sir," remarked Leslie. "The _Polarity_ could have approached much nearer the camp."

"The ice is too thick for that," replied Ranworth. "For another reason, the creek apparently opens into the sea on the northern coast of Nova Cania. You must recollect that the southern and the greater portion of the eastern and western sides of this vast island have been explored with fair accuracy."

Three times during the next ten miles the decapod wheels had to be brought into action owing to the rough nature of the ground.

Suddenly Ranworth gave the steering-wheel a vicious turn, which had the effect of making the _Bird of Freedom_ describe a sharp semi-circle.

"Stop her!" he ordered.

Leslie obeyed instantly. Although anxious to know the reason of his chief's apparent eccentricity, he refrained from asking questions.

"Get out a coil of two-inch rope, Guy," said Ranworth. "Unless I am much mistaken, there is rotten ice ahead. It wants testing badly."

Guy produced the rope. Making a bowline at one end, Ranworth slipped the loop over his head and shoulders.

"Now," he continued, "I want all hands to pay this out. Keep a slight strain upon it, and, if I shout, haul away instantly."

Having repeated the instructions in French to Petrovitch, Ranworth began to walk towards the supposedly dangerous ground, its position denoted by a difference in colour and a decided dip. North-west and south-east, as far as the eye could see, these characteristics were apparent. To avoid the suspected danger, a long detour would be necessary.

Ranworth proceeded slowly, probing the ground with a crowbar. Once or twice he stopped and prodded vigorously, until, satisfied that the ice was capable of bearing a tremendous weight, he resumed his way.

"The rope's all paid out, sir," reported Guy.

"Very good, you can come this way for another fifty yards. It's sound enough," was the reply.

Just then Ranworth gave a warning shout, but before the three helpers could haul in the slack they saw to their horror the ice giving way all around their isolated comrade.

Throwing up his arms in a vain attempt to recover his balance, Ranworth disappeared in the newly-formed abyss.

The sudden jerk well-nigh capsized the rest of the party, for the smooth ice afforded but little foothold. The strain, too, caused the rope to "render" through their thickly-gloved hands, and had not the Russian taken the precaution of knotting his end round his waist, the coil with Ranworth at the end would have been lost for ever. As it was, the luckless man was dangling fifty feet over the brink of an unfathomable abyss.

The two lads and their Russian comrade began to haul away. Foot after foot of rope came home, till Ranworth's voice was heard feebly shouting to hold on.

The order was instantly obeyed. It was good to hear his voice, for it seemed marvellous that, after falling fifty feet and being brought up with a jerk, Ranworth's back had not been broken by the sudden strain on the rope.

As a matter of fact, his fall was less abrupt than it seemed, judging by the way in which the ice suddenly gave way all around him.

It was a terrific strain, nevertheless, but, owing to the thickness of Ranworth's fur coat, the bight of the rope, instead of cutting deeply into his body, merely jammed against his ribs. It was sufficient to deprive him of speech temporarily, and it was not until he was hauled up to within five feet of the brink of the crevasse that he found speech to warn his rescuers of the new peril that beset him.

"The rope is stranding," he shouted. "Belay if you can, and throw another rope to me. I may be able to grasp it; if not----"

The unfinished sentence told its own tale.

"We can take the strain, Guy," said Leslie hurriedly. "Cut off and bring another length of rope--thicker stuff if you can find it; and a crowbar," he added as an afterthought.

Guy was off as fast as the slippery nature of the ice would permit. Soon he was back with the required articles.

Deftly the lad hurled the length of rope. It fell short. Another and yet another cast did he make, but without success. The rope was too heavy and stiff to be thrown sufficiently far.

Again Ranworth's voice was heard.

"Be quick," he exclaimed. "The edge of the ice is chafing the rope badly. It won't hold much longer."

"Leslie," said Guy earnestly, "I'm going to take this rope to the edge and drop it over. There's enough slack in your rope to carry back to the sleigh. Be sharp!"

Leslie obeyed without protest. Signing to the Russian, the three walked backwards, slowly letting the damaged rope slip through their hands as they did so. There was just sufficient to allow a turn to be taken round one of the brackets supporting the nearmost runner of the _Bird of Freedom_.

As soon as this was done, Leslie and Petrovitch were able to assist Guy. Two bowlines on the bight were made in the new rope; one at the end, the other ten feet from it. Slipping through the latter, Guy began to walk towards the abyss, his comrades paying out as he went.

At about twenty feet from the crevasse Guy threw himself flat upon the ice. It creaked, but held. Cautiously he wriggled onwards, pushing the unused bight of the rope before him.

Right to the edge he made his way. Still the ice held. He could see Ranworth dangling inertly at the end of the first rope. More, he saw how badly the rope had chafed on the edge of the sharp ice. It seemed marvellous how the remaining strand could support a man of Ranworth's weight.

Fortunately the rope was no longer chafing. It had sunk into the ice and thus had formed a fairly smooth bed for itself, but any attempt to increase the strain would have been fatal.

Skilfully angling with the disengaged bight of the rope, Guy succeeded in getting it within reach of Ranworth's legs. Then slowly hauling up, he had the satisfaction of seeing the rope encircle the unfortunate man's chest.

"Haul away!" shouted Guy.

Leslie and the Russian did so, till Guy felt the strain transferred from the stranded rope to the one with which he, too, was secured.

"Stand by!" shouted Guy, then boldly slipping out of his bowline he commenced to crawl towards his companions, keeping within arm's length of the rope in case of the ice giving way again.

"All together!" was the cry, when the intrepid lad added his strength to that of Leslie and Petrovitch on the rope.

Slowly Ranworth's head and shoulders appeared above the brink of the crevasse, then helpless as a log, the leader of the expedition was unceremoniously dragged over the edge and across the ice to safety.

Nearly frozen, and sorely bruised, Ranworth was assisted back to the sleigh. For the time being he was incapable of taking charge. Upon Guy as helmsman and Leslie as engineer depended the navigation of the _Bird of Freedom_, and between them and the object of their unexpected expedition lay the dreaded and seemingly impassable crevasse.