"If I could get among a school of whales anywhere around
Nantucket and find 'em as tame as these fellers," said Captain
Jim, "I'd give a boom to the whale-oil business that it hasn't
had for forty years."

But not long before Mr. Gibbs told the captain that he might go
whaling if he felt like it, the old sailor had experienced a
change of mind.  He had become a most ardent student of whales.
In his very circumscribed experience when a young man he had seen
whales, but they had generally been a long way off; and as the
old-fashioned method of rowing after them in boats had even then
been abandoned in favor of killing them by means of the rifled
cannon, Captain Hubbell had not seen very much of these creatures
until they had been towed alongside.  But now he could study
whales at his leisure.  It was seldom that he had to wait very
long before he would see one near enough for him to examine it
with a glass, and he never failed to avail himself of such
opportunities.

The consequence of this constant and careful inspection was the
conclusion in Captain Hubbell's mind that there was only one
whale in the polar sea.  He had noticed, and others had noticed,
that they never saw two at once, and the captain had used his
glass so often and so well that one morning he stamped his foot
upon the deck and said to Sammy:

"I believe that's the same whale over and over and over ag'in.  I
know him like a book; he has his ways and his manners, and it
isn't reasonable to suppose that every whale has the same ways
and manners.  He comes just so near the vessel, and then he stops
and blows.  Then he suns his back for a while, and then he throws
up his flukes and sounds.  He does that as regular as if he was a
polar clock.  I know the very shape of his flukes; and two or
three days ago, as he was soundin', I thought that the tip of the
upper one looked as if it had been damaged--as if he had broken
it floppin' about in some tight place; and ever since, when I
have seen a whale, I have looked for the tip of that upper fluke,
and there's that same old break.  Every time I have looked I have
found it.  It can't be that there are a lot o' whales in here and
each one of 'em with a battered fluke."

"That does look sort o' queer," said Sammy, reflectively.

"Sammy Block," said Captain Jim, impressively, "it's my opinion
that there's only one whale in this here polar sea; an', more
than that, it's my opinion that there's only one whale in this
world, an' that that feller we've seen is the one!  Samuel Block,
he's the last whale in the whole world!  Now you know that I
wanted to go a-whalin'--that's natural enough--but since Mr. Gibbs
has got through, and has said that I could take this vessel an'
go a-whalin' if I wanted to--which would be easy enough, for we
have got guns aboard which would kill any right-whale--I don't
want to go.  I don't want to lay on my dyin' bed an' think that
I'm the man that killed the last whale in the world.  I'm
commandin' this vessel, and I sail it wherever Mr. Gibbs tells me
to sail it; but if he wants the bones of a whale to take home as
a curiosity, an' tells me to sail this vessel after that whale, I
won't do it."

"I'm with you there," said Sammy.  "I have been thinkin' while
you was talkin', an' it's my opinion that it's not only the last
whale in the world, but it's purty nigh tame.  I believe it's so
glad to see some other movin' creature in this lonely sea that it
wants to keep company with us all the time.  No, sir, I wouldn't
have anything to do with killin' that fish!"

The opinions of the captain and Sammy were now communicated to
the rest of the company on board, and nearly all of them thought
that they had had such an idea themselves.  The whale certainly
looked very familiar every time he showed himself.

To Mr. Gibbs this lonely creature, if he were such, now became an
object of intense interest.  It was evidently a specimen of the
right-whale, once common in the Northern seas, skeletons of which
could be seen in many museums.  Nothing would be gained to
science by his capture, and Mr. Gibbs agreed with the others that
it would be a pity to harm this, the last of his race.

In thinking and talking over the matter Mr. Gibbs formed a theory
which he thought would explain the presence of this solitary
whale in the polar sea.  He thought it very likely that it had
gotten under the ice and had pursued its northern journey very
much as the Dipsey had pursued hers, and had at last emerged, as
she had, into the polar sea at a place perhaps as shallow as that
where the submarine vessel came out from under the ice.

"And if that's the case," said Captain Hubbell, "it is ten to one
that he has not been able to get out again, and has found himself
here caught just as if he was in a trap.  Fishes don't like to
swim into tight places.  They may do it once, but they don't want
to do it again.  It is this disposition that makes 'em easy to
catch in traps.  I believe you are right, Mr. Gibbs.  I believe
this whale has got in here and can't get out--or, at least, he
thinks he can't--and nobody knows how long it's been since he
first got in.  It may have been a hundred years ago.  There's
plenty o' little fish in these waters for him to eat, and he's
the only one there is to feed."

The thought that in this polar sea with themselves was a great
whale, which was probably here simply because he could not get
out, had a depressing effect upon the minds of the party on the
Dipsey.  There was perhaps no real reason why they should fear
the fate of the great fish, but, after all, this subject was one
which should be very seriously considered.  The latter part of
their passage under the ice had been very hazardous.  Had they
struck a sharp rock below them, or had they been pierced by a
jagged mass of ice above them, there probably would have been a
speedy end of the expedition; and now, having come safely out of
that dangerous shallow water, they shrank from going into it again.

It was the general opinion that if they would sail a considerable
distance to the eastward they could not fail to find a deep
channel by which the waters of this sea communicated with
Baffin's Bay; but in this case they would be obliged to leave the
line of longitude by which they had safely travelled from Cape
Tariff to the pole and seek another route southward, along some
other line, which would end their journey they knew not where.

"I am cold," said Sarah Block.  "At first I got along all right,
with all these furs, and goin' down-stairs every time I felt
chilly, but the freezin' air is beginnin' to go into my very
bones like needles; and if winter is comin' on, and it's goin' to
be worse than this, New Jersey is the place for me.  But there's
one thing that chills my blood clammier than even the cold
weather, and that is the thought of that whale follerin' us.  If
we get down into those shaller places under the ice an' he takes
it into his head to come along, he'll be worse than a bull in a
china-shop.  I don't mean to say that I think he'll want to do us
any harm, for he has never shown any sign of such a feelin', but
if he takes to bouncin' and thrashin' when he scratches himself
on any rocks, it'll be a bad box for us to be in."

None of the others shared these special fears of Mrs. Block, but
they were all as much disinclined as she was to begin another
submarine voyage in the shallow waters which they had been so
glad to leave.

It was believed, from the general contour of the surrounding
region, that if the ice were all melted away it would be seen
that a cape projected from the American continent eastward at the
point where they had entered the polar sea, and that it was in
crossing the submerged continuation of this cape that they had
found the shallow water.  Beyond and southward they knew that the
water was deep and safe.  If they could reach that portion of the
sea without crossing the shallow point, they would have no fears
regarding their return voyage.  They knew how far south it was
that that deep water lay, and the questions before them related
to the best means of reaching it.

At a general council of officers, Sammy and Captain Hubbell both
declared that they were not willing to take any other path
homeward except one which led along the seventieth line of
longitude.  That had brought them safely up, and it would take
them safely down.  If they went under the ice at some point
eastward, how were they to find the seventieth line of longitude?
They could not take observations down there; and they might have
to go south on some other line, which would take them nobody knew
where.  Mr. Gibbs said little, but he believed that it would be
well to go back the way they came.

At last a plan was proposed by Mr. Marcy, and adopted without
dissent.  The whole country which lay in the direction they
wished to travel seemed to be an immense plain of ice and snow,
with mountains looming up towards the west and in the far
southeast.  In places great slabs of ice seemed to be piled up
into craggy masses, but in general the surface of the country was
quite level, indicating underlying water.  In fact, a little east
of the point where they had entered the polar sea great cracks
and reefs, some of them extending nearly a mile inward, broke up
the shore line.  The party on the Dipsey were fully able to
travel over smooth ice and frozen snow, for this contingency had
been thought of and provided for; but to take the Dipsey on an
overland journey would, of course, be impossible.  By Mr. Marcy's
plan, however, it was thought that it would be quite feasible for
the Dipsey to sail inland until she had reached a point where
they were sure the deep sea lay serenely beneath the ice around
them.




CHAPTER XVIII

Mr. MARCY'S CANAL


The twelve men and the one woman on board the Dipsey, now lying
at anchor in the polar sea, were filled with a warming and
cheering ardor as they began their preparations for the homeward
journey, although these preparations included what was to all of
them a very painful piece of work.  It was found that it would be
absolutely necessary to disengage themselves from the electric
cord which in all their voyaging in these desolate arctic
regions, under water and above water, had connected them with the
Works of Roland Clewe at Sardis, New Jersey.  A sufficient length
of this cord, almost too slight to be called cable, to reach from
Cape Tariff to the pole, with a margin adequate for all probable
emergencies, had been placed on board the Dipsey, and it was
expected that on her return these slender but immensely strong
wires would be wound up, instead of being let out, and so still
connect the vessel with Mr. Clewe's office.

But the Dipsey had sailed in such devious ways and in so many
directions that she had laid a great deal of the cable upon the
bottom of the polar sea, and it would be difficult, or perhaps
impossible, to sail back over her previous tracks and take it up
again; and there was not enough of it left for her to proceed
southward very far and still keep up her telegraphic communication.
Consequently it was considered best, upon starting southward, that
they should cut loose from all connection with their friends and
the rest of the world.  They would have to do this anyway in a short
time.  If they left the end of the wire in some suitable position on
the coast of the polar sea, it might prove of subsequent advantage
to science, whereas if they cut loose when they were submerged in
the ocean, this cable from Cape Tariff to the pole must always be
absolutely valueless.  It was therefore determined to build a little
house, for which they had the material, and place therein a
telegraph instrument connected with the wire, and provided with one
of the Collison batteries, which would remain in working order with
a charge sufficient to last for forty years, and this, with a
ground-wire run down through the ice to the solid earth, might make
telegraphic communication possible to some subsequent visitor to
the pole.

But apart from the necessity of giving up connection with Sardis,
the journey did not seem like such a strange and solemn progress
through unknown regions as the northern voyage had been.  If they
could get themselves well down into the deep sea at a point on
the seventieth line of longitude, they would sail directly south
with every confidence of emerging safely into Baffin's Bay.

The latest telegrams between Sardis and the polar sea were
composed mostly of messages of the warmest friendship and
encouragement.  If Mr. Clewe and Mrs. Raleigh felt any fears as
to the success of the first part of the return journey, they
showed no signs of them, and Sammy never made any reference to
his wife's frequently expressed opinion that there was good
reason to believe that the end of this thing would be that the
Dipsey, with everybody on board of her, would suddenly, by one of
those mishaps which nobody can prevent, be blown into fine dust.

Mr. Marcy's plan was a very simple one.  The Dipsey carried a
great store of explosive appliances of various patterns and of
the most improved kinds, and some of them of immense power, and
Mr. Marcy proposed that a long line of these should be laid over
the level ice and then exploded.  The ice below them would be
shivered into atoms, and he believed that an open channel might
thus be made, through which the Dipsey might easily proceed.
Then another line of explosives would be laid ahead of the
vessel, and the length of the canal increased.  This would be a
slow method of proceeding, but it was considered a sure one.

As to the progress over the snow and ice of those who were to
lay the lines of shells, that would be easy enough.  It had been
supposed that it might be necessary for the party to make
overland trips, and for this purpose twenty or more electric-motor
sledges had been provided.  These sledges were far superior
to any drawn by dogs or reindeer; each one of them, mounted on
broad runners of aluminium, was provided with a small engine,
charged at the vessel with electricity enough to last a week, and
was propelled by means of a light metal wheel with sharp points
upon its outer rim.  This wheel was under the fore part of the
sledge, and, revolving rapidly, its points caught in the ice or
frozen snow and propelled the sledge at a good rate of speed.
The wheel could be raised or lowered, so that its points should
take more or less hold of the ice, according as circumstances
demanded.  In descending a declivity it could be raised entirely,
so that the person on the sledge might coast, and it could at any
time be brought down hard to act as a brake.

As soon as it was possible to get everything in order, a party of
six men, on electric sledges, headed by Mr. Marcy, started
southward over the level ice, carrying with them a number of
shells, which were placed in a long line, and connected by an
electric wire with the Dipsey.  When the party had returned and
the shells were exploded, the most sanguine anticipations of Mr.
Marcy were realized.  A magnificent canal three miles long lay
open to the south.

Now the anchor of the Dipsey was weighed, and our party bade
farewell to the polar sea.  The great ball buoy, with its tall
pole and weathervane, floated proudly over the northern end of
the earth's axis.  The little telegraph-house was all in order,
and made as secure as possible, and under it the Dipsey people
made a "cache" of provisions, leaving a note in several languages
to show what they had done.

"If the whale wants to come ashore to get somethin' to eat and
send a message, why, here's his chance!" said Sammy; "but it
strikes me that if any human beings ever reach this pole again,
they won't come the way we came, and they'll not see this little
house, for it won't take many snow-storms--even if they are no
worse than some of those we have seen--to cover it up out o'
sight."

"I don't believe the slightest good will ever result on account
of leaving this instrument here," said Mr. Gibbs; "but it seemed
the right thing to do, and I would not be satisfied to go away
and leave the useless end of the cable in these regions.  We will
set up the highest rod we have by the little house, and then we
can do no more."

When the Dipsey started, everybody on board looked over the stern
to see if they could catch a glimpse of their old companion, the
whale.  Nearly all of them were sorry that it was necessary to go
away and desert this living being in his lonely solitude.  They
had not entered the canal when they saw the whale.  Two tall
farewell spouts rose into the air, and then his tail with its
damaged fluke was lifted aloft and waved in a sort of gigantic
adieu.  Cheers and shouts of good-bye came from the Dipsey, and
the whale disappeared from their sight.

"I hope he won't come up under us," said Mrs. Block.  "But I
don't believe he will do that.  He always kept at a respectful
distance, and as long as we are goin' to sail in a canal, I
wouldn't mind in the least if he followed us.  But as for goin'
under water with him--I don't want anybody to speak of it."

Our exploring party now found their arctic life much more
interesting than it had lately been, for, from time to time, they
were all enabled to leave the vessel and travel, if not upon
solid land, upon very solid ice.  The Dipsey carried several
small boats, and even Sarah Block frequently landed and took a
trip upon a motor sledge.  Sometimes the ice was rough, or the
frozen snow was piled up into hillocks, and in such cases it was
easy enough to walk and draw the light sledges; but as a general
thing the people on the sledges were able to travel rapidly and
pleasantly.  The scenery was rather monotonous, with its
everlasting stretches of ice and snow, but in the far distance
the mountains loomed up in the beautiful colors given them by an
arctic atmosphere, and the rays of the sun still brightened the
landscape at all hours.  Occasionally animals, supposed to be
arctic foxes, were seen at a great distance, and there were those
in the company who declared that they had caught sight of a bear.
But hunting was not encouraged.  The party had no need of fresh
meat, and there was important work to be done which should not be
interfered with by sporting expeditions.

There were days of slow progress, but of varied and often
exciting experiences, for sometimes the line of Mr. Marcy's canal
lay through high masses of ice, and here the necessary blasting
was often of a very startling character.  They expected to cease
their overland journey before they reached the mountains, which
on the south and west were piled up much nearer to them than
those in other quarters, but they were surprised to find their
way stopped much sooner than they had expected it would be by
masses of icebergs, which stood up in front of them out of the
snowy plain.

When they were within a few miles of these glittering eminences
they ceased further operations and held a council.  It was
perfectly possible to blow a great hole in the ice and descend
into the sea at this point, but they would have preferred going
farther south before beginning their submarine voyage.  To the
eastward of the icebergs they could see with their glasses great
patches of open water, and this would have prevented the making
of a canal around the icebergs, for it would have been impossible
to survey the route on sledges or to lay the line of bombs.

A good deal of discussion followed, during which Captain Hubbell
strongly urged the plan of breaking a path to the open water, and
finding out what could be done in the way of sailing south in
regular nautical fashion.  If the Dipsey could continue her
voyage above water he was in favor of her doing it, but even
Captain Jim Hubbell could give no good reason for believing that
if the vessel got into the open water the party would not be
obliged to go into winter-quarters in these icy regions; for in a
very few weeks the arctic winter would be upon them.  Once under
the water, they would not care whether it was light or dark, but
in the upper air it would be quite another thing.

So Captain Hubbell's plan was given up, but it was generally
agreed that it would be a very wise thing, before they took any
further steps, to ascend one of the icebergs in front of them and
see what was on the other side.

The mountain-climbing party consisted of Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Marcy,
and three of the most active of the men.  Sammy Block wanted to
go with them, but his wife would not allow him to do it.

"You can take possession of poles, Sammy," said she, "for that is
the thing you are good at, but when it comes to slidin' down
icebergs on the small of your back you are out of place; and if I
get that house that Mr. Clewe lives in now, but which he is goin'
to give up when he gets married, I don't want to live there
alone.  I can't think of nothin' dolefuler than a widow with a
polar rheumatism, and that's what I'm pretty sure I'm goin' to
have."

The ascent of the nearest iceberg was not such a difficult piece
of work as it would have been in the days when Sammy Block
and Captain Hubbell were boys.  The climbers wore ice-shoes
with leather suckers on the soles, such as the feet of flies are
furnished with, so that it was almost impossible for them to
slip; and when they came to a sloping surface, where it was
too steep for them to climb, they made use of a motor sledge
furnished with a wheel different from the others.  Instead of
points, this wheel had on its outer rim a series of suckers,
similar to those upon the soles of the shoes of the party.  As
the wheel, which was of extraordinary strength, revolved, it
held its rim tightly to whatever surface it was pressed against,
without reference to the angle of said surface.  In 1941, with
such a sledge, Martin Gallinet, a Swiss guide, ascended
seventy-five feet of a perpendicular rock face on Monte Rosa.
The sledge, slowly propelled by its wheel, went up the face of
the rock as if it had been a fly climbing up a pane of glass, and
Gallinet, suspended below this sledge by a strap under his arms,
was hauled to the top of the precipice.

It was not necessary to climb any such precipices in ascending an
iceberg, but there were some steep slopes, and up these the party
were safely carried, one by one, by what they called their
Fly-foot Sledge.

After an hour or two of climbing, our party safely reached the
topmost point of the iceberg, and began to gaze about them.  They
soon found that beyond them there were other peaks and pinnacles,
and that it would have been difficult to make a circuit which
would enable them to continue Mr. Marcy's plan of a canal along
the level ice.  Far beyond them, to the south, ice hills and ice
mountains were scattered here and there.

Suddenly Mr. Gibbs gave a shout of surprise.

"I have been here before," said he.

"Of course you have," replied Mr. Marcy.  "This is Lake Shiver.
Don't you see, away over there on the other side of the open
water below us, that little dark spot in the icy wall?  That is
the frozen polar bear.  Take your glass and see if it isn't."



CHAPTER XIX

THE ICY GATEWAY


When Mr. Gibbs and his party returned to the Dipsey, after
descending the iceberg, their report created a lively sensation.

"Why, it's like goin' home," said Mrs. Block.  "Perhaps I may
find my shoes."

It was not a very strange thing that they should have again met
with this little ice-locked lake, for they had endeavored to
return by a route as directly south as the other had been
directly north.  But no one had expected to see the lake again,
and they were not only surprised, but pleased and encouraged.
Here was a spot where they knew the water was deep enough for
perfectly safe submarine navigation, and if they could start here
under the ice they would feel quite sure that they would meet
with no obstacles on the rest of their voyage.

As there was no possible entrance to this lake from the point
where the Dipsey now lay at the end of her canal, Sammy proposed
that they should make a descent into the water at the place where
they were, if, after making soundings, they should find the depth
sufficient.  Then they might proceed southward as well as if they
should start from Lake Shiver.

But this did not suit Mr. Gibbs.  He had a very strong desire to
reach the waters of the little lake, because he knew that at
their bottom lay the telegraphic cable which he had been obliged
to abandon, and he had thought he might be able to raise this
cable and re-establish telegraphic communication with Cape Tariff
and New Jersey.

Sammy thought that Mr. Gibbs's desire could be accomplished by
sinking into the water in which they now lay and sailing under
the icebergs to the lake, but Mr. Gibbs did not favor this.  He
was afraid to go under the icebergs.  To be sure, they had
already sailed under one of them when the Dipsey had made her way
northward from the lake, but they had found that the depth of
water varied very much in different places, and the icebergs in
front of them might be heavier, and therefore more deeply sunken,
than those which they had previously passed under.

If it were possible to extend their canal to Lake Shiver, Mr.
Gibbs wanted to do it, but if they should fail in this, then, of
course, they would be obliged to go down at this or some adjacent
spot.

"It's all very well," said Captain Hubbell, who was a little
depressed in spirits because the time was rapidly approaching
when he would no longer command the vessel, "but it's one thing
to blow a canal through fields of flat ice, and another to make
it all the way through an iceberg; but if you think you can do
it, I am content.  I'd like to sail above water just as far as we
can go."

Mr. Gibbs had been studying the situation, and some ideas
relating to the solution of the problem before him were forming
themselves in his mind.  At last he hit upon a plan which he
thought might open the waters of Lake Shiver to the Dipsey, and,
as it would not take very long to test the value of his scheme,
it was determined to make the experiment.

There were but few on board who did not know that if a needle
were inserted into the upper part of a large block of ice, and
were then driven smartly into it, the ice would split.  Upon this
fact Mr. Gibbs based his theory of making an entrance to the
lake.

A climbing party, larger than the previous one, set out for the
iceberg, carrying with them, on several sledges, a long and heavy
iron rod, which was a piece of the extra machinery on the Dipsey,
and some explosives of a special kind.

When the iceberg had been reached, several of the party ascended
with a hoisting apparatus, and with this the rod was hauled to
the top and set up perpendicularly on a central spot at the
summit of the iceberg, the pointed end downward, and a bomb of
great power fastened to its upper end.  This bomb was one
designed to exert its whole explosive power in one direction, and
it was so placed that this force would be exerted downward.  When
all was ready, the electric-wire attachment to the bomb was
carried down the iceberg and carefully laid on the ice as the
party returned to the Dipsey.

Everybody, of course, was greatly interested in this experiment.
The vessel was at least two miles from the iceberg, but in the
clear atmosphere the glittering eminence could be plainly seen,
and, with a glass, the great iron rod standing high up on its
peak was perfectly visible.  All were on deck when Mr. Gibbs
stood ready to discharge the bomb on top of the rod, and all eyes
were fixed upon the iceberg.

There was an explosion--not very loud, even considering the
distance--and those who had glasses saw the rod disappear
downward.  Then a strange grating groan came over the snow-white
plain, and the great iceberg was seen to split in half, its two
peaks falling apart from each other.  The most distant of the two
great sections toppled far backward, and with a great crash
turned entirely over, its upper part being heavier than its base.
It struck an iceberg behind it, slid upon the level ice below,
crashed through this, and sank out of sight.  Then it was seen to
slowly rise again, but this time with its base uppermost.  The
other and nearest section, much smaller, fell against an adjacent
iceberg, where it remained leaning for some minutes, but soon
assumed an erect position.  The line of cleavage had not been
perpendicular, and the greater part of the base of the original
iceberg remained upon the nearer section.

When the scene of destruction had been thoroughly surveyed from
the deck of the Dipsey, volunteers were called for to go and
investigate the condition of affairs near the broken iceberg.
Four men, including Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Marcy, went out upon this
errand, a dangerous one, for they did not know how far the ice in
their direction might have been shattered or weakened by the
wreck of the iceberg.  They found that little or no damage had
been done to the ice between them and the nearer portion of the
berg, and, pursing an eastward course on their sledges, they were
enabled to look around this lofty mass and see a body of open
water in the vicinity of the more distant section almost covered
with floating ice.  Pressing forward still farther eastward, and
going as far south as they dared, they were enabled at last to
see that the two portions of the original iceberg were floating
at a considerable distance from each other, and that, therefore,
there was nothing to prevent the existence of an open passage
between them into the lake.

When the party returned with this report work was suspended, but
the next day blasting parties went out.  The canal was extended
to the base of the nearer iceberg, a small boat was rowed around
it, and after a careful survey it was found that unless the
sections of the iceberg moved together there was plenty of room
for the Dipsey to pass between them.

When the small boat and the sledges had returned to the vessel,
and everything was prepared for the start along the canal and
into the lake, one of the men came to Captain Hubbell and
reported that the Pole Rovinski was absent.  For one brief moment
a hope arose in the soul of Samuel Block that this man might have
fallen overboard and floated under the ice, but he was not
allowed to entertain this pleasant thought.  Mr. Marcy had seized
a glass, and with it was sweeping the icy plain in all directions.

"Hello!" he cried.  "Someone come here!  Do you see that moving
speck off there to the north?  I believe that is the scoundrel."

Several glasses were now directed to the spot.

"It is the Pole!" cried Sammy.  "He has stolen a sledge and is
running away!"

"Where on earth can he be running to?" exclaimed Mr. Gibbs.  "The
man is insane!"

Mr. Marcy said nothing.  His motor sledge, a very fine one,
furnished with an unusually large wheel, was still on the deck.
He rushed towards it.

"I am going after him!" he shouted.  "Let somebody come with me.
He's up to mischief!  He must not get away!"

"Mischief!" exclaimed Mr. Gibbs.  "I don't see what mischief he
can do.  He can't live out here without shelter; he'll be dead
before morning."

"Not he," cried Sammy.  "He's a born devil, with a dozen lives!
Take a gun with you, Mr. Marcy, and shoot him if you can't catch
him!"

Mr. Marcy took no gun; he had no time to stop for that.  In a few
moments he was on the ice with his sledge, then away he went at
full speed towards the distant moving black object.

Two men were soon following Mr. Marcy, but they were a long way
behind him, for their sledges did not carry them at the speed
with which he was flying over the ice and snow.

It was not long before Rovinski discovered that he was pursued,
and, frequently turning his head backward, he saw that the
foremost sledge was gaining upon him; but, crouching as low as he
could to avoid a rifle-shot, he kept on his way.

But he could not help turning his head every now and then, and at
one of these moments his sledge struck a projecting piece of ice
and was suddenly overturned.  Rovinski rolled out on the hard
snow, and the propelling wheel revolved rapidly in the air.  The
Pole gathered himself up quickly and turned his sledge back into
its proper position.  He did this in such haste that he forgot
that the wheel was still revolving, and therefore was utterly
unprepared to see the sledge start away at a great speed, leaving
him standing on the snow, totally overwhelmed by astonishment and
rage.

Marcy was near enough to view this catastrophe, and he stopped
his sledge and burst out laughing.  Now that the fellow was
secure, Marcy would wait for his companions.  When the others had
reached him, the three proceeded towards Rovinski, who was
standing facing them and waiting.  As soon as they came within
speaking distance he shouted:

"Stop where you are!  I have a pistol, and I will shoot you in
turn if you come any nearer.  I am a free man!  I have a right to
go where I please.  I have lost my sledge, but I can walk.  Go
back and tell your masters I have left their service."

Mr. Marcy reflected a moment.  He was armed, but it was with a
very peculiar weapon, intended for use on shipboard in case of
mutinous disturbances.  It was a pistol with a short range,
carrying an ammonia shell.  If he could get near enough to
Rovinski, he could settle his business very quickly; but he
believed that the pistol carried by the Pole was of the ordinary
kind, and dangerous.

Something must be done immediately.  It was very cold; they must
soon return to the vessel.  Suddenly, without a word, Mr. Marcy
started his sledge forward at its utmost speed.  The Pole gave a
loud cry and raised his right hand, in which he held a heavy
pistol.  For some minutes he had been standing, his glove off,
and this pistol clasped in his hand.  He was so excited that he
had entirely forgotten the intense coldness of the air.  He
attempted to aim the pistol and to curl his forefinger around the
trigger, but his hand and wrist were stiff, his fingers were
stiff.  His pistol-barrel pointed at an angle downward; he had no
power to straighten it or to pull the trigger.  Standing thus,
his face white with the rage of impotence and his raised hand
shaking as if it had been palsied, he was struck full in the face
with the shell from Marcy's wide-mouthed pistol.  The brittle
capsule burst, and in a second, insensible from the fumes of the
powerful ammonia it contained, Rovinski fell flat upon the snow.

When the Pole had been taken back to the vessel, and had been
confined below, Mr. Gibbs, utterly unable to comprehend the
motives of the man in thus rushing off to die alone amid the
rigors of the polar regions, went down to talk to him.  At first
Rovinski refused to make any answers to the questions put to him,
but at last, apparently enraged by the imputation that he must be
a weak-minded, almost idiotic, man to behave himself in such an
imbecile fashion, he suddenly blazed out:

"Imbecile!" he cried.  "Weak-minded!  If it had not been for that
accursed sledge, I would have shown you what sort of an imbecile
I am.  I can't get away now, and I will tell you how I would have
been an idiot.  I would have gone back to the pole, at least to
the little house, where, like a fool, you left the end of your
cable open to me, open to anybody on board who might be brave
enough to take advantage of your imbecility.  I had food enough
with me to last until I got back to the pole, and I knew of the
'cache' which you left there.  Long, long before you ever reached
Cape Tariff, and before your master was ready to announce your
discoveries to the world, I would have been using your cable.  I
would have been announcing my discoveries, not in a cipher, but
in plain words; not to Sardis, but to the Observatory at St.
Petersburg.  I would have proclaimed the discovery of the pole, I
would have told of your observations and your experiments; for I
am a man of science, I know these things.  I would have had the
honor and the glory.  The north pole would have been Rovinski's
Pole; that open sea would have been Rovinski's Sea.  All you
might have said afterwards would have amounted to nothing; it
would have been an old story; I would have announced it long
before.  The glory would have been mine--mine for all ages to
come."

"But, you foolish man," exclaimed Mr. Gibbs, "you would have
perished up there--no fire, no shelter but that cabin, and very
little food.  Even if, kept warm and alive by your excitement and
ambition, you had been able to send one message, you would have
perished soon afterwards."

"What of that?" said Rovinski.  "I would have sent my message; I
would have told how the north pole was found.  The glory and the
honor would have been mine."

When Mr. Gibbs related what was said at this interview, Sammy
remarked that it was a great pity to interfere with ambition like
that, and Sarah acknowledged to her husband, but to him only,
that she had never felt her heart sink as it had sunk when she
saw Mr. Marcy coming back with that black-faced and black-hearted
Pole with him.

"I felt sure," said she, "that we had got rid of him, and that
after this we would not be a party of thirteen.  It does seem to
me as if it is wicked to take such a creature back to civilized
people.  It's like carrying diseases about in your clothes, as
people used to do in olden times."

"Well," said Sammy, "if we could fumigate this vessel and feel
sure that only the bad germs would shrivel, I'd be in favor of
doin' it."

In less than two hours after the return of Mr. Marcy with his
prisoner, the Dipsey started along the recently made canal,
carefully rounded the nearer portion of the broken iceberg, and
slowly sailed between the two upright sections.  These were
sufficiently far apart to afford a perfectly safe passage, but
the hearts of those who gazed up on their shining, precipitous
sides were filled with a chilling horror, for if a wind had
suddenly sprung up, these two great sections of the icy mountain
might have come together, cracking the Dipsey as if it had been a
nut.

But no wind sprang up; the icebergs remained as motionless as if
they had been anchored, and the Dipsey entered safely the
harboring waters of Lake Shiver.




CHAPTER XX

"THAT IS HOW I LOVE YOU"


For several days the subject of the great perforation made by the
automatic shell was not mentioned between Margaret and Roland.
This troubled her a great deal, for she thoroughly understood her
lover's mind, and she knew that he had something important to say
to her, but was waiting until he had fully elaborated his
intended statement.  She said nothing about it, because it was
impossible for her to do so.  It made her feel sick even to think
of it, and yet she was thinking of it all the time.

At last he came to her one morning, his face pale and serious.
She knew the moment her eyes fell upon him that he had come to
tell her something, and what it was he had to tell.

"Margaret," said he, beginning to speak as soon as he had seated
himself, "I have made up my mind about that shaft.  It would be
absolutely wicked if I were not to go down to the bottom and see
what is there.  I have discovered something--something wonderful
--and I do not know what it is.  I can form no ideas about it,
there is nothing on which I can base any theory.  I have done my
best to solve this problem without going down, but my telescope
reveals nothing, my camera shows me nothing at all."

She sat perfectly quiet, pallid and listening.

"I have thought over this thing by day and by night," he
continued, "but the conclusion forces itself upon me, steadily
and irresistibly, that it is my duty to descend that shaft.  I
have carefully considered everything, positively everything,
connected with the safety of such a descent.  The air in the
cavity where my shell now rests is perfectly good; I have tested
it.  The temperature is simply warm, and there is no danger of
quicksands or anything of that sort, for my shell still rests as
immovable as when I first saw it below the bottom of the shaft.

"As to the distance I should have to descend, when you come to
consider it, it is nothing.  What is fourteen miles in a tunnel
through a mountain?  Some of those on the Great Straightcut
Pacific Railroad are forty miles in length, and trains run
backward and forward every day without any one considering the
danger; and yet there is really more danger from one of those
tunnels caving in than in my perpendicular shaft, where caving in
is almost impossible.

"As to the danger which attends so great a descent, I have
thoroughly provided against that.  In fact, I do not see, if I
carry out my plans, how there could be any danger, more than
constantly surrounds us, no matter what we are doing.  In the
first place, we should not think of that great depth.  If a man
fell down any one of the deep shafts in our silver mines, he
would be as thoroughly deprived of life as if he should fall down
my shaft.  But to fall down mine--and I want you to consider
this, Margaret, and thoroughly understand it--would be almost
impossible.  I have planned out all the machinery and appliances
which would be necessary, and I want to describe them to you, and
then, I am sure, you will see for yourself that the element of
danger is more fully eliminated than if I should row you on the
lake in a little boat."

She sat quiet, still pale, still listening, her eyes fixed upon
him.

"I have devised a car," he said, "in which I can sit comfortably
and smoke my cigar while I make the descent.  This, at the easy
and steady rate at which my engines would move, would occupy less
than three hours.  I could go a good deal faster if I wanted to,
but this would be fast enough.  Think of that--fourteen miles in
three hours!  It would be considered very slow and easy
travelling on the surface of the earth.  This car would be
suspended by a double chain of the very best toughened steel,
which would be strong enough to hold ten cars the weight of mine.
The windlass would be moved by an electric engine of sufficient
power to do twenty times the work I should require of it, but in
order to make everything what might be called super-safe, there
would be attached to the car another double chain, similar to the
first, and this would be wound upon another windlass and worked
by another engine, as powerful as the first one.  Thus, even if
one of these double chains should break--an accident almost
impossible--or if anything should happen to one of these engines,
there would be another engine more than sufficient for the work.
The top of this car would be conical, ending in a sharp point, and
made of steel, so that if any fragment in the wall of the tunnel
should become dislodged and fall, it would glance from this roof
and fall between the side of the car and the inner surface of the
shaft; for the car is to be only twenty-six inches in
diameter-quite wide enough for my purpose--and this would leave at
least ten inches of space all around the car.  But, as I have said
before, the sides of this tunnel are hard and smooth.  The
substances of which they are composed have been pressed together by
a tremendous force.  It is as unlikely that anything should fall
from them as that particles should drop from the inside of a
rifle-barrel.

"I admit, Margaret, that this proposed journey into the depths of
the earth is a very peculiar one, but, after all, it is
comparatively an easy and safe performance when compared to other
things that men have done.  The mountain-climbers of our fathers'
time, who used to ascend the highest peaks with nothing but
spiked shoes and sharpened poles, ran far more danger than would
be met by one who would descend such a shaft as mine.

"And then, Margaret, think of what our friends on board the
Dipsey have been and are doing!  Think of the hundreds of miles
they have travelled through the unknown depths of the sea!  Their
expedition was fifty times as hazardous as the trip of a few
hours which I propose."

Now Margaret spoke.

"But I am not engaged to be married to Samuel Block, or to Mr.
Gibbs, or to any of the rest of them."

He drew his chair closer to her, and he took both of her hands in
his own.  He held them as if they had been two lifeless things.

"Margaret," he said, "you know I love you, and--"

"Yes," she interrupted, "but I know that you love science more."

"Not at all," said he, "and I am going to show you how greatly
mistaken you are.  Tell me not to go down that shaft, tell me to
live on without ever knowing what it is I have discovered, tell
me to explode bombs in that great hole until I have blocked it
up, and I will obey you.  That is how I love you, Margaret."

She gazed into his eyes, and her hands, from merely lifeless
things, became infused with a gentle warmth; they moved as if
they might return the clasp in which they were held.  But she did
not speak, she simply looked at him, and he patiently waited.
Suddenly she rose to her feet, withdrawing her hands from his
hold as if he had hurt her.

"Roland," she exclaimed, "you think you know all that is in my
heart, but you do not.  You know it is filled with dread, with
horror, with a sickening fear, but it holds more than that.  It
holds a love for you which is stronger than any fear or horror or
dread.  Roland, you must go down that shaft, you must know the
great discovery you have made--even if you should never be able
to come back to earth again, you must die knowing what it is.
That is how I love you!"

Roland quickly made a step forward, but she moved back as if she
were about to seat herself again, but suddenly her knees bent
beneath her, and, before he could touch her, she had fallen over
on her side and lay senseless on the floor.




CHAPTER XXI

THE CAVE OF LIGHT


Margaret was put into the charge of her faithful house-keeper,
and Roland did not see her again until the evening.  As she met
him she began immediately to talk upon some unimportant subject,
and there was that in her face which told him that it was her
desire that the great thought which filled both their minds
should not be the subject of their conversation.  She told him
she was going to the sea-shore for a short time; she needed a
change, and she would go the next day.  He understood her
perfectly, and they discussed various matters of business
connected with the Works.  She said nothing about the time of her
return, and he did not allude to it.

On the day that Margaret left Sardis, Roland began his
preparations for descending the shaft.  He had so thoroughly
considered the machinery and appliances necessary for the
undertaking, and had worked out all his plans in such detail, in
his mind and upon paper, that he knew exactly what he wanted to
do.  His orders for the great length of chain exhausted the stock
of several manufactories, and the engines he obtained were even
more powerful than he had intended them to be; but these he could
procure immediately, and for smaller ones he would have been
obliged to wait.

The circular car which was intended to move up and down the
shaft, and the peculiar machinery connected with it, with the
hoisting apparatus, were all made in his Works.  His skilled
artisans labored steadily day and night.

It was ten days before he was ready to make his descent.
Margaret was still at the sea-shore.  They had written to each
other frequently, but neither had made mention of the great
shaft.  Even when he was ready to go down he said nothing to any
one of any immediate intention of descending.  There was a
massive door which covered the mouth of the pit; this he ordered
locked and went away.

The next morning he walked into the building a little earlier
than was his custom, called for the engineers, and for Mr. Bryce,
who was to take charge of everything connected with the descent,
and announced that he was going down as soon as preparations
could be made.

Mr. Bryce and the men who were to assist him were very serious.
They said nothing that was not necessary.  If their employer had
been any other man than Roland Clewe it is possible they might
have remonstrated with him.  But they knew him, and they said and
did nothing more than was their duty.

The door of the shaft was removed, the car which had hung high
above it was lowered to the mouth of the opening, and Roland
stepped within it and seated himself.  Above him and around him
were placed geological tools and instruments of many kinds; a
lantern, food and drink; everything, in fact, which he could
possibly be presumed to need upon this extraordinary journey.  A
telephone was at his side by which he could communicate at any
time with the surface of the earth.  There were electric bells;
there was everything to make his expedition safe and profitable.
When he gave the word to start the engines, there were no
ceremonies, and nothing was said out of the common.

When the conical top of the car had descended below the surface,
a steel grating, with orifices for the passage of the chains, was
let down over the mouth of the shaft, and the downward journey
was begun.  In the floor of the car were grated openings, through
which Clewe could look downward; but although the shaft below him
was brilliantly illuminated by electric lights placed under the
car, it did not frighten him or make him dizzy to look down, for
the aperture did not appear to be very far below him.  The upper
part of the car was partially open, and bright lights shone upon
the sides of the shaft.

As he slowly descended, he could see the various strata appearing
and disappearing in the order in which he knew them.  Not far
below the surface he passed cavities which he believed held
water; but there was no water in them now.  He had expected
these, and had feared that upon their edges there might be
loosened patches of rock or soil, but everything seemed tightly
packed and hard.  If anything had been loosened it had gone down
already.