CHAPTER V
_The Last Assault_
Sallorsen turned his head and followed the torpooner's intent, amazedgaze.
Ken said:
"There's proof of their intelligence! I've been watching--didn'trealize at first. Look, here it comes!"
Several sealmen, while Sallorsen had been talking, had come droppingdown from the main mass of the horde, and had grouped around theabandoned torpoon which lay some feet ahead of the submarine's bow.Expertly they had loosened the seaweed-ropes which bound it to thesea-floor, then slid back, watching alertly, as if expecting thetorpoon to speed away of its own accord. Its batteries, of course, hadworn out weeks before, so the steel shell did net budge. The sealmencame down close to it again, and lifted it.
They lifted it easily with their prehensile flipper-arms, and withmaneuvering of delicate sureness guided it through the gash in the_Peary's_ bow. Inside, they hesitated with it, midway between deck andceiling of the flooded compartment. They poised for perhaps a fullminute, judging the distance, while the two men stared; and thenquickly their powerful tail flippers lashed out and the torpoon jumpedahead. It sped straight through the water, to crash its tough nose ofsteel squarely into the quarsteel pane of the watertight door, thenrebounded, and fell to the deck.
"My God!" gasped Sallorsen. But Ken wasted no words then. He pressedcloser to the quarsteel and examined it minutely. The substance showedno visible effect, but the action of the sealmen destroyed whateverhope he had felt.
The sealmen had swerved aside at the last minute; and now, picking upthe torpoon again and guiding it back to the other end of thecompartment, they hurled it once more with a resounding crash into thequarsteel pane.
"How long will it last under that?" Ken asked tersely.
Obviously, Sallorsen's wits were muddled at this turn. He remainedgaping at the creatures and at the torpoon, now turned against itsmother submarine. Ken repeated the question.
"How long? Who knows? It's as strong as steel, but--there's thepressure--and those blows hit one spot. Not--long."
* * * * *
Capping his words, there re-echoed again the loud crash of thetorpoon's on the quarsteel. The sealmen were working in quick routinenow; back and quickly forward, and then the crash and thereverberation; and again and again....
The ominous crash and ringing echoes regularly repeated, seemed todisorganise Ken's mind as he looked vainly for something with which tobrace the door. Nothing unattached was left--nothing! He ran andexamined the quarsteel pane again, and this time his brain heated inalarm. A thin line had shot through the quarsteel--the beginning of acrack.
"Back!" Ken shouted to the still staring Sallorsen. "Back to the thirdcompartment. This door's going!"
"Yes," Sallorsen mumbled. "It'll go. So will the others. They'll smashthem all. And when this is flooded--no hope of running the submarineagain. Controls in here."
"That's too damned bad!" Ken said roughly. "Are there any sea-suits,food, supplies in here?"
"Only food. In those lockers."
"I'll take it. Get into that third compartment--hear me?" orderedKenneth Torrance. "And have its door ready to close!"
He shoved Sallorsen away, opened the indicated lockers and piled hisarms with the tins revealed. He had time for no more than one load. Hejumped back into the third compartment of the _Peary_ just as asplintering crash sounded from behind. The door between was swungclosed and locked just as the one being battered crashed inward.
Turning, Ken saw that the torpoon had cracked through the weakenedquarsteel and tumbled in a mad cascade of water to the deck of theabandoned second compartment. In dread silence, he, with Sallorsen andthose of the men who had strength and curiosity enough to comeforward, watched the compartment rapidly fill--watched until they sawthe water pressed high against the door. And then horror swept overKen Torrance.
* * * * *
Water! There was a trickle of water down the quarsteel he was leaningagainst! A fault along the hinge of the door--either its construction,or because it had not been closed properly.
Ken pointed it out to the captain.
"Look!" he said. "A leak already--just from the pressure! This doorwon't last more than a couple of minutes when they start on it--"
Sallorsen stared stupidly. As for the rest; Ken might not have spoken.They were as if in a trance, watching dumbly, with lungs automaticallygasping for air.
One of the seal-creatures eeled through the shattered quarsteel of thefirst door and swam slowly around the newly flooded compartment. Atonce it was joined by five other lithe, sleek shapes which, withplacid, liquid eyes, inspected the compartment minutely. They came ina group right up to the next door that barred their way and, with novisible emotion, stared through the quarsteel pane at the humans whostared at them. And then they gracefully turned and slid to thebattered torpoon.
"Back!" Ken shouted, "You men!" He shook them, shoved them roughlyback toward the fourth, and last, compartment. Weakly, like automatonsthey shuffled into it. The torpooner said bruskly to Sallorsen:
"Carry those tins of food back. Hurry! Is there anything stored inhere we'll need? Sallorsen! Captain! Is there anything--"
The captain looked at him dully; then, understanding, a cackle camefrom his throat. "Don't need anything. This is the end. Lastcompartment. Finish!"
"Snap out of it!" Ken cried. "Come on, Sallorsen--there's a chanceyet. Is there anything we'll need in here?"
"Sea-suits--in those lockers."
Ken Torrance swung around and rapidly opened the lockers. Pulling outthe bulky suits, he cried:
"You carry that food back. Then come and help me."
* * * * *
But of the corner of his eye, as he worked, he could see the ominouspreparations beyond in the flooded compartment--the sealmen raisingthe torpoon, guiding it back to the far end; leveling it out. Ken wassure the door could not stand more than two or three blows at themost. Two or three minutes, that meant--but all the sea-suits had togo back into the fourth compartment!
He was in torment as he worked. For him, the conditions were just asbad as for the men who had lived below in the submarine for a month;the poisonous, foul air racked him just as much; what breath he got hefought for just as painfully. But in his body was a greater store ofstrength, and fresher muscles; and he taxed his body to its verylimit.
Panting, his head seeming on the point of splitting, Ken Torrancestumbled through into the last compartment laden with a pile ofsea-suits. He dropped them clattering in a pile around his feet andforced himself back again. Another trip; and another....
It would never have been done had not Sallorsen and Lawson, thescientist, come to his aid. The help they offered was meager, andslow, but it sufficed. Laden for the fifth time, Ken heard what he hadbeen anticipating for every second of the all too short, agonizingminutes: a sharp, grinding crack, and the following reverberation. Hesnatched a glance around to see the torpoon falling to the deck of thesecond compartment--the sealmen lifting it swiftly again--and a thinbut definite sliver in the quarsteel of the door.
But the last suit was gotten into the fourth compartment, and theconnecting door closed and carefully locked and bolted. The removal ofthe suits, had been achieved--but what now?
Panting, completely exhausted, Ken forced his brain to the question.From every side he attacked the problem, but nowhere could he find theloophole he sought. Everything, it seemed, had been tried, and hadfailed, during the _Peary's_ long captivity. There was nothing left.True, he had his torpoon, and its nitro-shell gun with a clip ofnineteen shells; but what use were shells? Even if each one accountedfor one of the sealmen, there would still remain a swarm.
And the sea-suits. He had struggled for them and had saved them, butwhat use could he put them to? Go out leading a desperate final sallyfor the hole in the ice above? Death in minutes!
No hope. Nothing. Not even a fighting chance. These
seal-creatures,strange seed of the Arctic ice, had trapped the _Peary_ all too well.On the roll of mysteriously missing ships would her name go down; andhe, Ken Torrance, would be considered a lunatic who had soughtsuicide, and found it....
* * * * *
Of the twenty-one survivors of the _Peary's_ officers and crew, only adozen had the will to watch the inexorable advance of the sealmen. Therest lay in various attitudes on the deck of the rear compartment,showing no sign of life save torturous, shallow pantings for air and,occasionally, spasmodic clutchings at their throats and chests, asthey tried to fight off the deadly, invisible foe that was slowlystrangling them.
Ken Torrance, Sallorsen, the scientist, Lawson, and a few others werepressed together at the last watertight door, peering through thequarsteel at the sea-creatures' systematic assault on the door leadinginto the third compartment. A straight, hard smash at it; anotherfinal splintering smash--and again the torpoon pushed through in thevan of a cascade of icy, greenish water, which quickly claimed thecontrol compartment for the attackers behind. The creatures weregrowing bolder. More and more of them had entered the submarine, andsoon each open compartment was filled from deck to ceiling with theslowly turning, graceful brown bodies, inspecting minutely thecountless wheels and levers and gauges, and inspecting also, inturns, the pale, worn faces that stared with dull eyes at themthrough the sole remaining door.
There was no further retreat, now. Behind was only water and the swarmthat passed to and fro through it. Water and sealmen--ahead, above, tothe sides, behind--everywhere. Cooped in their transparent cell, thecrew of the submarine _Peary_ waited the end.
* * * * *
Once more, as well as he could with his throbbing head and heavy,choking body, Kenneth Torrance tracked over the old road that hadbrought him nowhere, but was the only road open. Carefully he tookstock of everything he had that he might possibly fight with.
There were sea-suits for the men, and in each suit an hour's supply ofartificial but invigorating air. Two port-locks, one on each side ofthe stern compartment. A torpoon, with a gun and nineteen shells.Nothing else? There seemed to be, in his mind, a vague memory ofsomething else ... something that might possibly be of use ...something.... But he could not remember. Again and again the agony ofslow strangulation he was going through drove everything but theconsciousness of pain from his shirking mind. But there was somethingelse--and perhaps it was the key. Perhaps if he could only rememberit--whatever it was--whether a tangible thing or merely a passing ideaof hours ago--the way out would be suddenly revealed.
But he could not remember. He had the sea-suits, the port-locks andthe torpoon: what possible pattern could he weave them into to bringdeliverance?
No, there was nothing. Not even a girder that could be unfastened intime to brace the last door. No way of prolonging this last stand!
Beside Ken, the strained, panting voice of Lawson whispered:
"Getting ready. Over soon now. All over."
All save five of the sealmen had left the third compartment, to jointhe swarm constantly swimming around and over the submarine outside.The five remaining were the crew for the battering ram. With measuredand deliberate movements they ranged their lithe bodies beside thetorpoon, lifted it and bore it smoothly back to the far end of thecompartment. There they poised for a minute, while from the menwatching sounded a pathetic sigh of anticipation.
As one, the five seal-creatures lunged forward with their burden.
_Crash!_ And the following dull reverberation.
The last assault had begun.