Chapter XVI: In the Nick of Time

"CAN'T say," replied the Captain. "It is more----See what you make of it, Dacres."

For a moment, like a swimmer contemplating a "header" into icy cold water, Dacres hesitated; then with a swift determined movement he disappeared within the tent.

Grasping the nearmost man he turned him over on his back. His face was as black as that of a seaman engaged in a coaling ship; but to Dacres' great relief he opened his eyes and stared wonderingly at his rescuer.

"So you've come, old mate?" he muttered, like one in a dream. "Thought you would, somehow. We got there all right--no kidding, we did."

"Get up and turn out," said Dacres authoritatively.

The seaman, disciplined to obey orders implicitly, attempted to rise. He realized that he was addressed by some one having authority; but to arise was beyond the power of his numbed limbs and exhausted body.

"We'll have to unship the tent," declared Dacres as he rejoined his comrades. "There's one of them alive, if not more; but he cannot move."

"Is there a lamp burning?" asked Dr. Hambrough.

"No; there is one but it's gone out," replied Whittinghame. "I noticed that."

Quickly the foot of the tent was freed from the wall of snow that had been built around it, and the flimsy structure thrown aside.

The man whom Dacres had roused was asleep once more.

One by one the doctor examined the five men. "They are all alive," he said; "but we are only just in time. We must get them on board as quickly as we can."

It was impossible to distinguish Cardyke from the rest of the party. The men's faces were encrusted with soot and grease, while they had allowed their beards to grow and these were clogged with the same uncongenial mixture.

"We'll have to hurry up," said Whittinghame anxiously, as an extra loud groan gave warning that the ice around them was ready to part company with the rest of the pack. "It will take two of us to assist each man to the 'Meteor'."

"That will help their blood to circulate," agreed the doctor, "but will this rotten ice stand the strain? It's pretty shaky between us and the 'Meteor,' if you'll remember."

"Then the 'Meteor' must come to us," rejoined the Captain.

In spite of the distance--nearly half a mile--the airship was within hail. In the rarefied atmosphere sound travels with the utmost facility, and instances have been recorded of men engaging in conversation at distances of two miles apart.

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Setchell, and without delay the airship's anchors were broken out and the propellers began to revolve.

Almost touching the ice the "Meteor" again brought up, this time so close that, as she swung to the light breeze, the men on the ground had to give a united heave and pass her immense bulk over their heads.

Already the alert Setchell had seen what was required and had rigged up a bos'n's chair from the entry port. In ten minutes rescuers and rescued were safely on board the airship.

Cardyke and his four men slept throughout the embarkation process; they slept during the run of the "Meteor" to Cape Columbia; they still slept when they were taken on board the "New Resolute," only awakening when they were being washed with slightly chilled water. And, strange to relate, Cardyke's first words were those of reproach at not being allowed to complete the journey by his own efforts.

He remembered resting in his tent; realized that he was back on the "New Resolute," and consequently came to the conclusion that a rescue party from the ship had taken a mean advantage by finding him and his comrades asleep and had hauled them on sledges for the rest of the way.

He was, in fact, light-headed. He could give no coherent account of what had occurred. It was Bates, the petty-officer, who was the first to relate their hazardous adventures.

Beyond the loss of two days, Cardyke's party reached the eighty-seventh parallel without mishap. Then accidents happened with alarming frequency. The portable wireless apparatus was irreparably damaged through the sledge capsizing on rough ice. Then two complete dog teams were lost in crevasses, leaving only six dogs to haul the remaining sledge.

Fortunately the weather remained exceptionally fine, and the party were able to make good progress. There still remained plenty of food, while a reserved store had been cached some days before the accident to the two sledges.

Cardyke, therefore, resolved to push on. The freshly fallen snow afforded easy travelling, for in the absence of wind there was very little "drift."

He reached the Pole. The making of certain important observations that had been entrusted to him he carried out, carefully and methodically, yet without undue loss of time; then setting their faces southward the five began their homeward journey.

It was a record of one continued struggle between grit and personal exertion on the one hand, and the relentlessness of the elements on the other. A blizzard impeded their progress; they lost their way and missed their store of spare provisions. The supplies they took with them were running short; the remaining dog had to be killed for food.

They began to realize that it was to be a race against time, unless they were met by a rescue party. Resting as little as possible, badly attacked by frostbite, and at times partially blinded by the glare of the snow, they toiled on, till hope was all but dead. And, fortunately unknown to them, a broad sea had opened out between them and their comrades at Cape Columbia.

At length they regained their proper course. It was during the time that they were making the detour that the "Meteor" must have passed them, about ten miles to the eastward. Human endurance could hold out no longer. They pitched their tent, filled their lamp with the last remaining oil, and resolved to rest for six hours--six hours when for days they had halted for two periods of two hours in every twenty-four.

It was a case of the triumph of matter over mind. Utterly done up, their intellects dimmed by their vicissitudes, the men fell asleep, and with the exception of a partial rousing in the case of the seaman Dacres had spoken to, they knew nothing till they found themselves back on board the "New Resolute."

The written results of Lieutenant Cardyke's observations were found in his possession, and so complete was the data that there was no longer any need for the Arctic Expedition ship to remain at Cape Columbia. The channel was still open, and eagerly her officers and crew prepared for the homeward voyage.

By the time Cardyke had recovered sufficiently to be told of the manner of his rescue, the "Meteor" was no longer in the Arctic. Returning by Davis Strait she reached England in thirty-four hours from the time of parting company with the "New Resolute."

The tidings of his achievement had preceded her, for even her prodigious speed could not outstrip the magical wireless. Had Captain Whittinghame felt so inclined he would have been fêted until further orders. But he had no such desire. His avowed mission was not yet accomplished. It was not in the dreary and desolate Arctic that his ambitions were centred, but upon the aggressive little Republic of Valderia. His dash for the Pole was humanity's call which could not be denied, also, it served the purpose as a means to put Reno Durango off his guard; but the publicity given to his return had undone all the good that Whittinghame had hoped for in that direction.

"We'll return to the New Forest base, Dacres," said he. "A rest after being half-frozen for the last few days will do us good. By that time the 'Maranhao' will be nearing Pernambuco, and we shall then be able to start in pursuit of our friend Señor Durango. By the by, aren't you anxious to interview your father?"

Dacres hardly knew what to reply. He was anxious to explain matters to the Colonel, but, although a full-grown man, he had a strange dread of his father's temper. It was, he knew, only putting off the evil day, for Colonel Dacres was bound to know sooner or later that his son had been requested to resign his commission. Yet, on the other hand, Dacres had a sort of presentiment that before long he would be reinstated in his former rank in his Majesty's service.

"You don't seem keen on it," remarked Whittinghame.

"No, sir, I do not," admitted Dacres. "Of course I know the governor has no legal control over me, yet somehow--I can't exactly explain--I feel in an awful funk about it."

"About what?"

"Having to tell him I've been more or less pitched out of the Service."

"That needn't worry you, old chap."

Dacres looked curiously at his chief.

"You don't know the governor," he replied. Whittinghame smiled. It was not on that account that he told Dacres not to worry. He held an official document, the contents of which he would have greatly liked to communicate to his comrade. But for the present his hands were tied.

Naturally the news of the rescue by the "Meteor" of the gallant Cardyke caused immense excitement, not only in Great Britain but throughout the civilized world. But the public curiosity was unsatisfied. The names of the individuals who undertook the voyage were not mentioned. In vain the Press appealed to the Admiralty. Never was a secret better kept, for up to the time of the "Meteor's" departure for Valderia the identity of her owner and crew remained a mystery.