CHAPTER XVI.
A POLAR STORM.
Early in February the voyagers, whose progress had been slow, foundthemselves in a veritable sea of "Pancake ice." Everywhere in amonotonous waste the vast white field seemed to stretch, with only afew albatrosses and petrels dotting its lonely surface. Thethermometer dropped to ten below zero, and the boys found the snugwarmth of the steam-heated cabins very desirable. There was a fairwind, and sail had been set on the Southern Cross to aid the work oftowing her, and she was driving through the ice with a continuousrushing and crashing sound that at first was alarming, but to whichher company soon grew accustomed.
Captain Barrington announced at noon that day that they were then inlat. 60 degrees 28 minutes, and longitude 59 degrees 20 minutesWest--bearings which showed that they would be, before many days hadpast, at the Great Barrier itself. Excitement ran high among the boysat the receipt of this news, and Frank and Harry, who had fitted up akind of work-room in the warmed hold, worked eagerly at theirauto-sledge, which was expected to be of much use in transportingheavy loads to and from the ship to the winter quarters.
Before the two vessels reached the Barrier, however, they weredestined to encounter a spell of bad weather.
One evening Ben Stubbs announced to the boys, who had been admiring asunset of a beauty seldom seen in northern climes, that they were infor a hard blow, and before midnight his prediction was realized.Frank awoke in his bunk, to find himself alternately standing, as itseemed, on his head and his feet. The Southern Cross was evidentlylaboring heavily and every plank and bolt in her was complaining. Nowand again a heavy sea would hit the rudder with a force thatthreatened to tear it from its pintles, solidly though it wascontrived.
Somewhat alarmed, the boy aroused the others, and they hastened out ondeck. As they emerged from the cabin the wind seemed to blow theirbreath back into their bodies and an icy hand seemed to grip them. Itwas a polar-storm that was raging in all its fury.
As she rose on a wave, far ahead the boys could see the lights of theBrutus. Only for a second, however, for the next minute she wouldvanish in the trough of a huge comber, and then they could hear thestrained towing cable "twang" like an overstretched piano wire.
"Will it hold?" That was the thought in the minds of all.
In order to ease the hawser as much as possible, Captain Barrington,when he had noted the drop of the barometer, had ordered a "bridle,"or rope attachment, placed on the end of the cable, so as to give itelasticity and lessen the effect of sudden strains, but themountainous seas that pounded against the blunt bows of the SouthernCross were proving the stout steel strand to the uttermost.
The boys tried to speak, but their words were torn from their lips bythe wind and sent scattering. In the dim light they could see theforms of the sailors hurrying about the decks fastening additionallashings to the deck cargo and making things as snug as possible.
Suddenly there came a shout forward, followed by a loud "bang!" thatmade itself audible even above the roar of the hurricane.
The cable had parted!
Considering the mountainous seas in which they were laboring and theviolence of the storm, this was a terrifying piece of intelligence.
It meant that at any moment they might drift helplessly into somemighty berg and be crushed like an egg-shell on its icy sides. CaptainBarrington muffled up in polar clothes and oilskins, rushed past theboys like a ghost and ran forward shouting some order. The first andsecond officers followed him.
Presently the voice of the rapid-fire gun was heard, and the boyscould see its sharp needles of white fire splitting the black night.
A blue glare far away answered the explosions. It was the Brutussignaling her consort. But that was all she could do. In the terrificsea that was running it would have been impossible to rig a freshcable. The only thing for the two ships to do was to keep burningflare lights, in order that they might keep apart and not crashtogether in the tempest.
"Shall we go down, do you think?" asked Billy, shivering in spite ofhimself, as a huge wave towered above them as if it would engulf thepolar ship, and then as she rose gallantly to its threatening bulk,went careening away to leeward as if angry at being cheated of itsprey.
"We can only hope for the best," said a voice at his elbow. It wasCaptain Hazzard. "I have implicit confidence in Captain Barrington. Heis a sailor of rare mettle."
These remarks were shouted at the top of the two speakers' voices, butthey sounded, in the midst of the turbulent uproar that raged aboutthem, like the merest whispers.
Time and again it seemed that one of the great waves that camesweeping out of the darkness must engulf them, but so far the SouthernCross rode them like a race-horse, rising pluckily to them as theyrushed at her. Captain Barrington and his officers were trying to getsome headsail put on the vessel to keep her head up to the huge waves,but they were unwilling to imperil any one's life by ordering him outon the plunging bowsprit, that was now reared heavenward and againplunged downward as if pointing to the bottom of the sea.
Ben Stubbs it was who finally volunteered to crawl out, and two otherAmerican seamen followed him. They succeeded, although in deadly perilhalf a dozen times, in getting the jib gaskets cast loose, and thencrawled back half frozen to receive the warm plaudits of the officersand more substantial rewards later on. With her jib hoisted, theSouthern Cross made better weather of it, but the seas were fastbecoming more mountainous and threatening. The wind screeched throughthe rigging like a legion of demons. To add to the turmoil some casksgot loose and went rolling and crashing about till they finally wentoverboard as a great wave toppled aboard.
"We must see how the professor is getting on," said, or rather yelled,Frank suddenly.
He and the boys entered the cabin structure aft, which seemed warm andcosy with its light and warmth after the turmoil of the terrificbattle of the elements outside.
But a prolonged search failed to reveal any trace of the man ofscience.
Where could he be?
A scrutiny of his cabin, even looking under the bunk, failed to revealhim. The boys began to fear he might have been swept overboard, whensuddenly Frank exclaimed:
"Perhaps he is in his laboratory."
"Hiding there?" asked Billy.
"No, I don't think so. The professor, whatever his oddities may be, isno coward," rejoined Frank.
"No, his search for the Patagonian dog-flea proved that," agreedHarry.
Frank lost no time in opening the trap-door in the floor of the maincabin, which led into what had formerly been the "valuables room" ofthe Southern Cross, but which had been fitted up now as a laboratoryfor the professor.
"There's a light burning in it," announced Frank, as he peered down.
"Oh, professor--Professor Sandburr, are you there?" he shouted thenext moment.
"What is it? Is the ship going down?" came back from the depths in thevoice of the professor. He seemed as calm as if it was a summer's day.
"No, but she is having a terrible fight with the waves," replied theboy.
"She has broken loose from the towing ship. The cable has snapped!"added Harry.
"Is that so?" asked the professor calmly. "Will you boys come downhere for a minute? I want to see you."
Wondering what their eccentric friend could possibly wish in the wayof conversation at such a time, the boys, not without some difficulty,clambered down the narrow ladder leading into the professor's den.They found him balancing himself on his long legs and trying to securehis bottles and jars, every one of which held some queer creaturepreserved in alcohol. The boys aided him in adjusting emergency racksarranged for such a purpose, but not before several bottles had brokenand several strange-looking snakes and water animals, emitting a mostevil smell, had fallen on the floor. These the professor carefullygathered up, though it was hard work to stand on the plunging floor,and placed in new receptacles. He seemed to place great value on them.
"So," he said finally, "you think the ship may go down?"
/> "We hope for the best, but anything may happen," rejoined Frank; "weare in a serious position. Practically helpless, we may drift into aberg at any moment."
"In that case we would sink?"
"Almost to a certainty."
"Then I want you to do something for me. Will you?"
The boys, wondering greatly what could be coming next, agreed readilyto the old scientist's wish. Thereupon he drew out three slips ofpaper. He handed one to each of the boys.
"I wrote these out when I first thought there was danger of oursinking," he said.
The boys looked at the writing on their slips. They were all the same,and on each was inscribed:
"The man who told me that the Patagonians were a friendly race is atraitor to science. I, Professor Simeon Sandburr, brand him a tellerof untruths. For Professor Thomas Tapper, who told me about thefur-bearing pollywog of the South Polar seas, I have the warmestrespect. I leave all my books, bottled fishes and reptiles to theSmithsonian Institute. My servant, James, may have my stuffedWogoliensuarious. My sister is to have my entire personal and realestate. This is my last will and testament.
"Simeon Sandburr.
"M.A.-F.R.G.S.-M.R.H.S.-Etc., etc."
"What are we to do with these papers?" asked Frank, hardly able, evenin the serious situation in which they then were, to keep fromlaughing.
"One of you boys may escape, even if the ship does go down," said theprofessor, gravely: "If any of us should get back to civilization Iwant the world to know that the Patagonians are not a friendly race,and that I died hoping to capture the fur-bearing pollywog of theSouth Polar seas."
At this moment a sudden shock hurled them headlong against theglass-filled shelves, smashing several bottles and releasing theslimy, finny contents, and sending them all in a heap on the floor.
"We have struck something!" cried Frank.
"Something terrible has happened!" shouted Harry and Billy.
"We are sinking, boys," yelled the professor; "don't forget my lastwill and testament."