CHAPTER XVII

RENDING THE GIANT BERG ASUNDER

“Isn’t it a monster?” said Bob, with something like awe in his voice.

“Must be the Jumbo of icebergs,” conceded Joe.

“Hate to have it take a notion to fall over on us,” murmured Herb.

The big berg towered up fully eighty feet into the air, and from a distance its long outline resembled that of a city, with graceful church spires shooting up here and there. In the rays of the sun it gave off a bluish white reflection, and as the brilliant light was reflected back from projections and angles it seemed as though the berg were scintillating with jewels.

It was a sight to arouse the enthusiasm of a painter, and the boys were impressed by the beauty of the spectacle, even though their errand was to destroy it. A brisk breeze that covered the sea with whitecaps was blowing, but in the lee of the berg absolute calmness reigned. The air grew sensibly colder as they approached the big mountain of ice, a cold breath that seemed to carry warning and menace with it.

The Radio Boys buttoned their warm coats closer about them and rowed harder to keep warm. Their efforts and those of the rest of the crew sent the boat bounding over the water, and soon they were close enough to see details and look for a good place to land. This was not easy to find, as in most places the berg rose up steeply from the ocean, and a landing would have been impossible.

At length, however, they discovered a place where the ice ran down to the water in a long slope and where it would be fairly easy to get a foothold. The boat was rowed close to the ice, and one of the men, carrying the painter, leaped to the ice. Most of the others, including the Radio Boys, followed him, leaving only two men to manage the boat while they were away. Then the cans of TNT were carefully transferred to the ice, and under the leadership of the officer the party started a difficult climb up the steep ice slopes toward the summit.

In blowing up an iceberg, the first thing to do is reach the approximate center of the berg and then lower the TNT down some deep crevasse, such as is always to be found in ice formations. A time fuse is then attached, so set as to give the party ample time to get away from the berg before the explosion occurs.

From a distance the berg had looked as smooth as glass, but, now that they were at close quarters, the Radio Boys found that this was not the case. The surface of the berg was pitted and seamed with deep depressions, cracks, and miniature hills and valleys. At some points the ascent was so steep that steps had to be chopped in the ice before they could go farther, and at all times they had to use the utmost care in traveling on such slippery and treacherous material as ice.

“Seems to me Jimmy was the wise one, after all,” panted Herb. “If he could see us now, he’d have the laugh on us, sure.”

“It’s all in a lifetime,” said Bob. “I’ll admit, though, that I never knew an iceberg could be as hard to get over as this one is.”

“We must be pretty near our objective now, though, I should say,” added Joe.

He was not far wrong, for after a little more breath-taking climbing, stumbling, and slipping, Mr. Mayhew called a halt at the edge of a deep crevasse that, as the boys looked down, seemed to them to have no bottom.

“This will do nicely, lads,” the officer said. “We’ll take a little rest, and then we’ll lower the explosive.”

Some of the men fished out blackened pipes and had a short smoke. Then, at a word from the officer, they knocked out the ashes and proceeded to work.

Long ropes were swung around the cans of TNT, of which they had two, and then Mr. Mayhew very carefully adjusted the time fuses.

“That will give us two hours to get away,” he remarked. “If we can’t make the ship in that time, we’ll deserve to be blown up. Lower away, men, and we’ll be on our way.”

Hand over hand the men lowered the explosive into the deep green chasm. It was a long time before the cans stopped descending, but stop they did at last, and the men drew up the ropes. These were quickly coiled, and then the little party started back for their boat at a sharp clip. They knew that they had plenty of time, and yet the thought of that TNT buried in the heart of the berg destroyed all desire to linger and thus lessen the hardships of their departure.

About half the distance back had been covered when suddenly, as they were skirting around a crevasse, Joe slipped on a smooth slope of ice and with a startled cry disappeared over the edge of the abyss.

For a moment all were stunned by the accident. Then, at the risk of their own lives, Bob and Herb rushed to the edge and peered over. But the sun, reflecting on the glistening wall, made it impossible to see far, and they could make out no sign of their friend. Had Joe been killed by the fall, or was he only stunned and unconscious? A great dread tugged at their hearts as they realized how little chance any one could have of surviving such a fall.

“Poor Joe!” whispered Herb. “What shall we do, Bob?”

“Go after him, of course,” was the decisive reply. “And we’ve got to go fast, because that TNT isn’t going to wait a minute for us.”

Mr. Mayhew overheard the boys as he and others of the crew approached the edge of the cleft, and he glanced at his watch.

“I would like to have two men volunteer to stay with me and the Radio Boys and try to rescue young Atwood,” he said. “The others will return immediately to the boat.”

Every member of the crew volunteered, and Mr. Mayhew selected two of the best men. Then he sent the rest back to the ship, and the little group of rescuers turned to their task with feverish energy.

“Some one will have to be lowered into the crevasse,” said the officer. “Who shall it be?”

Like a flash both Bob and Herb demanded the post of greatest danger. Bob was selected, as being the stronger. A rope was quickly made fast under his arms, and he was quickly lowered into the cold green depths of the iceberg.

Down, down he went, calling to his friend as he progressed. His own voice echoed and re-echoed in the depths, and once he was sure that he heard a faint cry far below him. After what seemed a long time, his feet struck a hard surface, and he found himself on a wide ledge that ran along the face of the ice wall.

He could see nothing of his friend, but this time, when he called out, he was certain that he heard Joe’s answering cry at no great distance. It seemed to come from the left, and Bob cautiously felt his way along the ledge, keeping as close to the wall as he could. He called again, and this time Joe’s voice was nearer. Keeping on, Bob rounded a slight projection and came face to face with his friend.

Joe was pale and shaken, but a great surge of relief went over Bob as he saw that his chum was on his feet, and apparently not badly hurt.

“Thank heaven I’ve found you, old fellow!” exclaimed Bob, a little brokenly. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit shaky, and weak in the knees, but I’ll get over that,” Joe replied, with an attempt at his old grin. “How are we going to get out of this?”

“I’ll tie this rope around you, and they can pull you up first. Then they can let it down again, and I’ll come up. We’ve got to work fast though,” and he looked significantly at his friend.

“Gee! The TNT!” exclaimed Joe. “I’d forgotten all about it. But you go up first, Bob, and I’ll wait below.”

“Nothing doing! We haven’t time to argue, young fellow, so put this rope under your arms and I’ll give the signal for you to be hauled up.”

Joe saw there was no time for argument, so he let Bob fasten the rope under his arms. Then Bob gave it a tug, and a moment later Joe ascended swiftly as stout arms hauled at the cord.

Left alone in the cold green depths, Bob shivered. Over an hour gone already, he felt sure. In less than another hour the TNT would explode, rending the berg to fragments! Bob did not have to think hard to realize what would happen to any one on the iceberg at that time. It seemed an age before the rope came twisting down to him, and he lost no time in passing the loop over his head and under his arms. Then he was hauled swiftly up into the thrice welcome sunlight, where he stood blinking like an owl in the glare.

“All right, men, back to the boat on the double. We’ve got to get off this berg, and get off quick, or you know what’s going to happen to us. How are you feeling, Atwood? Can you make a run for it?”

“With two cans of TNT back of me, I can travel fast,” declared Joe, and they set out on a run for the boat and safety.

Sliding, slipping, and leaping, they ran across the slippery ice at breakneck speed, taking desperate chances as the realization of their growing peril sank home. Their time was growing short, and they still had a long way to go.

What if Mr. Mayhew had timed the fuse a little short? In that case, the explosion might occur at any moment now, and the thought gave wings to their feet.

At one place where they had laboriously cut steps in the ice coming up, they disregarded them altogether, and slid down the slippery green slope at terrific speed, slowing up enough when they reached a level space to climb to their feet. Joe, weakened by his fall, was unable to hold the furious pace, and toward the last Bob ran on one side of him and Herb on the other, helping him along over the most difficult places.

At length they sighted the ocean, and this gave them heart for a final wild sprint. To their joy, they saw that Captain Springer had replaced the rowboat by the ship’s motorboat, so that they could get away more quickly.

The men in the boat saw them and came in close to the ice, uttering encouraging shouts. Summoning up their last ounce of energy, the landing party rushed over the last hundred yards and leaped helter-skelter into the boat.

The launch turned, and, with the engine roaring at top speed, tore away from the iceberg. In a few minutes they were alongside the _Meteor_, the falls were hooked on, and the motorboat was lifted out of the water while the _Meteor_ got under way.

They had hardly gone a quarter of a mile when a deafening explosion rent the air, and the iceberg, which a few seconds before had looked so solid and substantial, seemed to dissolve into thin air. For a time a thick vapor hung over the spot, and when it thinned out, nothing was to be seen of the big iceberg but splintered ice cakes bobbing about on the foam-crested waves.