CHAPTER XVII

GUY IN COMMAND

"How is Mr. Ranworth?" asked Leslie, as the rescued crew of the airship were in the act of entering the huge sleigh--a contrivance which they viewed with ill-concealed interest and admiration.

"Jolly rotten!" replied Guy. "The fall must have caused more injuries than we at first supposed. I managed to persuade him to turn in, and now he can't move his arms. The muscles of his back and chest are badly strained."

"Let's hope he hasn't sustained internal injuries," said Leslie. "Luckily one of the Russians is a doctor. He'll have a look at him."

While Leslie and Guy got the _Bird of Freedom_ "under way," the Russian doctor made a careful examination of the injured man. He was able to pronounce that, to the best of his belief, Ranworth had sustained no internal injuries, but that the sudden jerk of the rope had badly bruised his flesh and had strained his muscles. Absolute rest was essential to recovery, and under favourable conditions the patient ought to be fit within a week.

With little delay the _Bird of Freedom_ returned to Observation Camp. During her absence, O'Donovan had worked wonders with the men left under his charge. Two good meals and a liberal dose of lime juice had effectually checked the tendency towards scurvy in those members of the expedition who had not already been attacked by the distressing malady; while the others were progressing favourably under the Irish seaman's treatment.

The total of the party at Observation Camp now amounted to twenty--four of the crew of the _Bird of Freedom_, seven of the Claude Ranworth Expedition, and nine Russians; and since the sleigh could only accommodate sixteen, the question of a double journey to Desolation Inlet had to be seriously discussed.

Eventually it was decided that the two Ranworths, four Englishmen, and five Russians should be the first total of passengers, Leslie and Guy being in charge of the sleigh. O'Donovan was to remain with the rest of the two expeditions until the _Bird of Freedom_, with an augmented crew, returned to Observation Camp. The stores taken from the sleigh were more than sufficient for a week, and since, with ordinary luck, the double journey ought not to take more than three days, there need be no anxiety on the score of hunger.

Just as the _Bird of Freedom_ was about to start, an animated discussion took place between Petrovitch and his fellow countrymen.

After a while, the former explained to Leslie and Guy the meaning of the argument. It appeared to the lads a very simple matter, but the Russians took it quite seriously; they had just made the discovery that the complement of the _Bird of Freedom_ totalled the unlucky number of thirteen.

"I suppose we must pander to the superstitious sentiment of our Russian friends," remarked Guy. "We'll either have to take an extra man or else leave one behind."

"Then we'll leave one behind," decided Leslie. "After all, it will make a fairer distribution of the load, and, honestly, I'm rather doubtful about the reserve of electricity in the accumulators. The needle of the volt-meter is pretty close to the working limit, and the less weight we have to take, especially on the up-grade, so much the better for us. I'll tell Petrovitch to drop one of his chums."

This arrangement the Russians accepted without demur. Once on board the _Bird of Freedom_, they recognised the fact that Guy, although a stripling, was acting skipper, and loyally they carried out whatever orders he gave through the medium of the gigantic and good-natured Petrovitch.

"The cabin looks like a Red Cross ambulance van," declared Guy, glancing at the half-dozen patients lying either on the bunks or on the floor. "You'll have to go slowly, old man, when we get to the rough ice, or they'll have an awful time. I'm afraid Mr. Ranworth's out of the running for the rest of the trip."

"Eh, what's that?" demanded Ranworth, who had overheard the conversation. "Out of the running? Not much, my lads. I mean to see this business through, and I'll be at the helm when we start again for Observation Camp, or my name's not John Ranworth."

"I hope so, too," said Leslie.

"Not that I doubt your qualifications, my lads," Ranworth hastened to add, "but this is my show, you know. However, carry on. I'll say this: I've patted myself on the back many times when I remember what you two fellows have done for me. It was a lucky accident that brought you on board the _Polarity_."

Almost without incident, the _Bird of Freedom_ arrived at the defile where on the outward journey the mammoth had been found. It was now almost covered with snow and debris, for a fresh fall had occurred. Only the head and the gigantic tusks were visible.

"We must not stop," declared Ranworth when Guy reported the circumstance. "Next time, perhaps. I am really most anxious to secure that mass of ivory, but I don't think there will be another landslide before we pass this way again."

At length the critical test of the journey became imminent: the passage over the glacier.

Leslie took the precaution of disconnecting the aerial propellers, and bringing the decapod wheels into action. Extreme caution was necessary, since the grade was all downwards, and the ice, except where it was impeded by boulders, smooth and very slippery.

In addition, a strong northerly breeze was piping up, and since the body of the sleigh offered considerable resistance to the wind, there was a danger of the _Bird of Freedom_ getting out of control had she rested entirely on her runners.

Presently Guy gave the word to switch off the current, and, applying the locking brake to the wheels, brought the _Bird of Freedom_ to a standstill.

A hundred yards ahead lay the open waters of Desolation Inlet, but between lay the rough ice left by the violent disruption of the seaward end of the glacier.

"We'll see what it is like before we start any steeplechasing with the sleigh," declared Guy. "I'll get Petrovitch to give a hand, for it won't be safe to approach the edge unless we are roped together."

"It looks an awfully nasty bit to tackle," remarked Leslie, as the two, connected by twenty feet of rope, stood as near as prudence dictated to the edge of the glacier. "There's something of an incline away on the right. It will mean a leap of five or six feet to gain the surface of the sea, but there seems to be a good 'takeoff.'"

"That's the place," decided his chum. "At the same time, I hardly like the idea of taking the sleigh over the edge with a cargo of sick and injured men."

"I quite agree with you," replied Leslie. "But what is the alternative?"

"Attract the _Polarity's_ attention, and get them to send boats. We can easily let the men down by means of ropes."

"Very good; we'll mention it to Mr. Ranworth," said Leslie.

The Russian, too, readily fell in with the suggestion. His faith in the _Bird of Freedom_ as a species of high diver was far from firm. The idea of a heavy mass of wood and machinery, with a full complement of men, being hurled bodily over the edge of the glacier, even though the vertical distance were but five or six feet, did not seem particularly inviting.

But when the matter was broached to the injured leader of the expedition, Ranworth was obdurate.

"She'll do it right enough," he declared optimistically. "It may shake us all up a bit, I'll admit, but it can't be helped."

"The _Bird of Freedom_ will have to get back to the summit of the glacier," Guy reminded him.

"Undoubtedly. She's tackled worse obstacles than that," replied Ranworth. "Besides, you must run alongside the _Polarity_ to get the accumulators recharged. You must have forgotten that."

"Dash it all, sir, I did!" admitted the lad.

"Very well, carry on. Remember our promise to return to Observation Camp with the least possible delay."

"How do you propose to make the leap, sir?" asked Leslie. "Let her go full pelt under the action of the aerial propellers and alight on a fairly even keel; or let her go slowly and make a nose-ended dive?"

"Slowly," decided Ranworth. "Before her centre of gravity is over the brink of the ice her bows will be almost water-borne."

"Very good, sir!" said Leslie. And, a warning being given for all hands to Be Prepared for a slight shock, the _Bird of Freedom's_ motors were set in motion.

For nearly two hundred feet she kept a course almost parallel with the end of the glacier; then, turning abruptly, she headed towards the shelving ice which the lads had selected as the best place for taking the water.

Suddenly the ice creaked and cracked ominously. There was no going back. The momentum of the sleigh was too great to allow its onward course to be checked.

The next instant, instead of descending an easy gradient, the _Bird of Freedom_ was tilting sideways at an alarming angle. She had gained a large floe which had just become detached from the main portion of the glacier, and that floe was bodily capsizing.

The decapod wheels gripped the ice, until the angle of the smooth face of the floe became too acute. With a horrible, sickening movement, the sleigh began to slide sideways. It reminded Guy of a motor car skidding on a slippery road.

Leslie had the presence of mind to cut off the electric current. More he could not do. He braced himself for the impending catastrophe, for the _Bird of Freedom_ was in imminent danger either of being thrown bodily against the hard face of an ice cliff or of being crushed by the overturning of the enormous floe.

He was dimly aware that the angle formed by the floor and one side of the cabin was filled with a crowd of struggling men, thrown thither like sheep by the extreme list of the sleigh; then, with a terrific crash, the _Bird of Freedom_ toppled completely over.

A cascade of icy water poured in through a jagged gap in the roof, which was now undermost. Then, like a cork, the _Bird of Freedom_ righted herself, and tossed violently on the surface of the agitated sea, with two feet of water surging along the cabin floor and over the desperately struggling men.

Leslie, who had gripped one of the guard rails surrounding the motors, had performed a remarkable acrobatic feat on the impromptu horizontal bar, and as the _Bird of Freedom_ resumed her normal position he found himself lying across the engines, slightly bruised, but otherwise unhurt.

A quick glance through the nearest scuttle told him that for the present the water-borne sleigh was out of danger, unless she had sprung a leak below the water line.

"We're afloat all right!" he shouted.

His words had little or no effect upon the passengers, for those of the Russians who were not rendered unconscious were shouting as hard as they could. They were in a state of panic, fully expecting either to be crushed by the enormous mass of ice or else to be trapped like rats in the cabin of the foundering sleigh.

John Ranworth might have risen to the occasion and restored order, but he was lying stunned on the floor. His brother was in a similar plight, while Guy, pinned down by the body of a huge Russian, was incapable of moving hand or foot.

The panic, brought about by a fearful climax to a series of nerve-racking ordeals, was quickly over, and the rescued men began to sort themselves out from the tangled mass of humanity on the floor. Thanks to her design and build, the _Bird of Freedom_ had come off lightly. Beyond a hole in the curved roof, caused by violent contact with a spur of sharp ice, there was no great damage. Everything not firmly secured had been thrown about in utter confusion, while most of the stores and navigating instruments were lying in the water which flooded the floor.

"All right, Guy?" sang out his chum.

"All right," was the reassuring reply.

"Then stand by with the steering-wheel," continued Leslie. "The sooner we get alongside the _Polarity_ the better. There's plenty of work for the ship's surgeon, I guess."

At the first attempt to start the motors, there was a vivid flash, accompanied by a sharp report. The wet had caused one of the high-tension wires to fuse, and this had thrown the whole of the intricate machinery out of order.

"She'll drift all right," declared Guy. "The wind's right down the channel."

"Yes, broadside on," added his chum. "We can't steer her, and she'll be drawn ashore at the next bend."

"We'll get her under control yet," said Guy, whose nautical knowledge was far greater than that of his chum. "Make all hands come aft. That will raise her snout out of the water, and the wind will blow her round."

With the exception of Guy, who perforce had to remain at the steering-wheel, all on board went to the after end of the cabin. Even the sick and insensible ones were removed by their comrades.

The result was as Guy had foretold. The _Bird of Freedom's_ bows, caught by the wind, were turned until her stern pointed dead into the eye of the wind, while the third runner, which also acted as a rudder, was immersed to such an extent that it obtained a good grip upon the water.

Scudding before the wind, the _Bird of Freedom_ was quite under control, rounding the dangerous point without difficulty. At Leslie's suggestion, three shots were fired through one of the scuttles to attract the attention of the as yet invisible _Polarity_, for two or three intervening spurs of cliff hid her from the sleigh.

Presently the ship came into view. Her crew manned the sides and gave three cheers for the returning sleigh. Seeing her coming "bows on," they erroneously concluded that she was under power.

In the lower reaches of the inlet it was now blowing hard. The _Bird of Freedom_ was scudding at a good twelve miles an hour, without means of bringing up.

Guy realised that if he approached too closely to the _Polarity_, a gust might drive the comparatively frail craft against her parent ship with disastrous results. If, on the other hand, he steered wide, the _Bird of Freedom_ would drift helplessly to leeward of the _Polarity_ and be in great danger of being blown into the open sea.

"Hang on to the helm, Leslie!" he exclaimed, and as his chum took his place at the steering-wheel, Guy snatched a couple of hand-flags from the locker and hurriedly made his way through the hatchway in the roof and gained the sloping and unsteady platform without.

The roof was slippery with ice. It was impossible to gain a foothold, without danger of sliding overboard as the sleigh rolled about helplessly.

Sitting on the combing, Guy began to signal. An answering call came from the _Polarity_.

"Not under control," signalled the lad. "Send a boat."

Back came Captain Stormleigh's reply:

"What's wrong with the grapnels? Too rough to lower a boat. Anchor and veer under our quarter."

"Pity we hadn't thought of that before," thought Guy. "It's blowing half a gale. We ought to have anchored much farther up the inlet."

Quickly descending from his perch, Guy, with the assistance of those of the passengers capable of bearing a hand, succeeded in bending the largest grapnel to a coil of rope. The treble glass plates in the foremost scuttle were removed, leaving an aperture just sufficient to admit the passage of the four-barbed anchor.

"Lower away!" ordered Guy. "Check the rope well in time."

The grapnel plunged to the bed of Desolation Inlet, taking with it the rope, which ran out so swiftly that the gun-metal rims of the scuttle were quite hot with the friction.

Then, as the rope took the strain, the _Bird of Freedom_ swung round as if on a pivot, almost capsizing every man on board who had neglected to obtain a firm grip. This was followed by a sudden jerk, and the sleigh, riding head to wind, brought up within ten feet of the starboard side of the _Polarity_.

It was quite near enough to be pleasant, for the ship was pitching violently, while the _Bird of Freedom_, riding lightly on the white-crested waves, was at one moment level with the _Polarity's_ bulwarks; at another the ship towered thirty feet or more above the sleigh.

Now came the question of how to transfer the passengers and crew from the sleigh to the ship. An active man would have great difficulty in essaying the task, since it was impossible to get a foothold on the sloping deck. The sick and injured could not possibly be taken through the hatchway.

"We'll have to hang on till the wind moderates," declared Leslie. "I hope the rope will hold."

"It would be as well to get ready the spare grapnel and cable," said his chum. "It's jolly lucky that Desolation Inlet is practically tideless, or with the flood tide the _Polarity_ would be barging into us."

"I'll see how she's lying," said Guy. "I can't stop outside very long. It's too cold."

Barely had he thrust his head through the hatchway, when he announced that the _Polarity_ was swinging out her derrick. Captain Stormleigh was about to attempt the risky expedient of hauling the sleigh bodily out of the raging sea.