CHAPTER IV

ON BOARD THE "POLARITY"

HOURLY Leslie Ward's and Guy Anderson's chances of being sent back diminished. The _Polarity_, forging steadily ahead on a northerly course, never sighted a single sail until in the latitude of Bergen, when she fell in with a Norwegian timber ship, homeward bound.

"There's a chance for you fellows," announced Ranworth, as the two vessels exchanged the customary greetings of the sea. "They'll take you into Bergen, and there you'll be pretty certain to find a British vessel bound for Hull or Grimsby."

"If you don't mind, sir, we'd rather not."

Ranworth whistled.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Apart from the uncertainty of finding a ship----"

"There's still more uncertainty, so far as we are concerned, my lad."

"We don't mind that," Leslie hastened to explain. "Thanks to you, our people know we are safe. I should just love to take part in a Polar expedition."

Leslie spoke with conviction. The possibilities of a voyage to the Arctic appealed to him. Guy was of different mould. Polar research had very little or no interest for him. He could not understand why men should risk their lives and suffer all the hardships of a winter in Polar regions merely for the sake of it.

Often he would argue with his school chums on the subject, his favourite question being, what definite advantage was derived from the fact that explorers had discovered the North and South Poles?

Was the world in general one whit the better when the Yankee Stars and Stripes were planted at the North Pole, and the Norwegian Ensign at the South Pole? Apart from Captain Scott's heroic efforts, were the results of his expedition worth the price in life and money?

Nevertheless, when Leslie had broached the subject of "getting round" Mr. Ranworth and obtaining his permission to accompany the rescue party, Guy offered no objection.

The love of adventure was strong within him. He would have preferred vastly to have been _en route_ for a Central African expedition, where territory likely to be of some use was to be explored. Eventually he decided that even the chance of a Polar expedition was better than swotting at a public school, and, after all, there was the voyage out and home to be taken into consideration.

"You may be awfully keen," admitted Ranworth, "but there is another side to the question. When I chartered this vessel and picked my companions, it was with a definite object in view. I had heaps of fellows--friends of mine--offering their services, but I was forced to decline the lot. Every man on board has his particular job. Now, I'll put a blunt question: What special qualifications have each of you that can be usefully employed to further the success of this expedition?"

Leslie and Guy were silent for a few moments.

"I'm a good shot with a rifle," announced Guy.

"We're not likely to fall in with cannibals or Somalis," Ranworth reminded him.

Guy knitted his brows in perplexity. Reduced to rock-bottom level, his qualifications seemed absurdly few.

"Can you cook a meal for twenty men?"

"Might, if it came to a push, sir," replied Guy. "At any rate, I'd have a jolly good shot at it."

"A willing heart goes a long way, my lad," said Ranworth. "Now, Leslie, what are you proficient at?"

"I have a fairly practical knowledge of electric motors," replied the boy.

"Indeed--of what types?" inquired the leader of the rescue party. "You're young to take up that profession; I should have imagined that you were still at school."

"I have to thank my father for that."

"And his name is, I believe, Decimus Ward?"

"How did you know that, sir?" asked Leslie, somewhat astonished.

"That's a secret," replied Ranworth, winking at Guy. "As a matter of fact, he designed the motor-sleigh we have on board."

"Then I do know something of that," declared Leslie. "The pater showed me the plans and explained the details. Of course, he didn't tell me the name of his client."

"You'd like to see the definite result of your father's ingenuity?" asked Ranworth; then, receiving an eager affirmative, he added: "Very well; come along; but before we go below you might ask Mr. Hawke to see me."

Leslie and Guy had already made the acquaintance of Aubrey Hawke, the motor specialist to the expedition. He was a dapper little man of about thirty. In height he only just came up to Leslie's shoulder, while he turned the scale at eight stone seven pounds. He had gained considerable fame as an aviator, but owing to an accident he had reluctantly been compelled to give up flying.

Surviving a fall from an aeroplane which would have ended fatally in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, Aubrey Hawke's vitality carried him through a long illness.

One result of the accident was that he was a victim to nervousness, but studiously concealing that failing, he had accepted a post with the Nova Cania rescue expedition in the hope that he might even yet recover his lost nerves.

"I've just discovered an assistant for you, Mr. Hawke," said Ranworth, indicating Leslie. "He's rather keen, I believe, upon electrical matters."

"So I understand," replied Hawke. "We've had one or two confidential chats already."

The motor-sleigh was securely stowed in the main hold, which, like the rest of the interior of the _Polarity_, was electrically lighted. It was quite unlike the general type of sleigh. It reminded Guy of an engine on the Underground Railway, for outwardly it consisted of a double-ended contrivance, twenty-five feet in length and seven in breadth, with sloping sides and a curved roof.

Round, brass-rimmed scuttles, fitted with thick plate glass, afforded an outlook on all sides, while fore and aft were searchlight projectors, protected from possible damage by massive gunmetal guards.

Above the roof were three metal brackets, forming bearings for a horizontal shaft, which was actuated by a chain driven with the motors. For the present the two aerial propellers were unshipped, in order to be safe from damage caused by the motion of the ship in a heavy sea-way.

The sleigh was intended primarily for use on smooth ice, being designed for a speed of forty miles an hour under the action of the aerial propellers. But since smooth ice is the exception rather than the rule within the Arctic circle, provision had to be made for travelling over rough ground, and possibly open water.

To meet the former case, the motor-sleigh was fitted with four broad wheels. Each fore and aft pair was connected by means of an endless band of phosphor-bronze links, while on the actual face of the chain were affixed broad plates of studded steel, after the manner of Army "Decapod" traction engines.

By an ingenious contrivance, the sleigh-runners could be raised at will, allowing the weight to be taken by the wheels; while, should the contrivance be compelled to cross the open water, the body was made boat-shaped and watertight, a subsidiary driving-chain for the aerial propeller shafting actuating a marine propeller astern.

"Show the way in, Leslie!" exclaimed Ranworth, wishing to put the lad's knowledge to a test. Making his way to the rearmost scuttle on the righthand side, the youth deftly unscrewed the metal rim from its flange. Then, inserting his arm through the opening, his hand came in contact with a lever. This he depressed, with the result that a part of the wall swung open, revealing a doorway of about four feet in height and two in breadth. So well fitted was the door that at a very short distance off it was not possible to detect the seams.

"Good man, Leslie!" exclaimed Ranworth, approvingly. "Now, Guy, in you go; there's plenty of room inside for all."

The interior was lined with wood, a space of four inches separating the inner lining from the outer metal shell. The intervening space was packed with a patent fibre in order to render it so far as possible impervious to the intense cold of the Polar regions. Even the plate glass in the scuttles was duplicated.

Two-thirds of the interior space was devoted to accommodation for passengers and "crew." Aft was the motor-room with its reserve storage batteries, and a bewildering complication of switches and levers.

"We carry a sufficient charge to run continuously for eight days," announced Aubrey Hawke. "If we are longer, then it will be a case of get out and walk, since the sleigh is a little too heavy to push."

"I wonder you didn't have a petrol motor," remarked Guy. "There's room to carry gallons of fuel."

"No, thank you; not for Arctic work," objected Ranworth. "The intense cold does not agree with petrol motors. My brother took an aeroplane with him, but I heard that it was not a success. I had no details, but I should imagine that, apart from engine troubles, an aeroplane within the Arctic circle is at the mercy of the frequent snowstorms. It wouldn't take long for half a ton of snow to accumulate upon the planes, you know. Now I'll leave you two fellows to Hawke's tender mercies. He'll put you up to the practical side of the contrivance, Leslie. Guy can tail on and make himself generally useful. Unless I'm much mistaken, he'll come in jolly handy after all--not necessarily to cook a meal for twenty men," he added with a chuckle.