by Pierre Mael
What, then, was the sailor’s surprise to see before him the figure of a giant of alarming proportions.
Fear seized on Gaudoux, and paralyzed him for a moment.
The being he saw was manifestly supernatural, for it was at least twenty feet high. The moon brought it out clearly on the background of mist which enveloped it in fleecy transparency.
The sailor gave a shout of alarm, to which Lieutenant Hardy hastened to respond.
A single glance showed him that the fantastic apparition was only the effect of refraction through the fog.
But at the same time, and for quite other motives, the lieutenant was uneasy.
Who was the man who was moving about at this hour?
He seized his speaking-trumpet, and hailed the mysterious phantom. Instead of replying, the phantom seemed to endeavour to get out of sight as soon as possible, and rapidly vanished in the veil of vapour.
Puzzled at this, the lieutenant armed himself with a revolver and a sword, and, followed by two sailors, he slipped noiselessly down the rope ladder which put the ship in communication with the ice-field.
And the three immediately gave chase to the mysterious
fugitive, who, leaving the pursuers to a profitless search, hid among the hummocks, and, creeping on hands and knees regained the steamer and made his way on board over the bow, where he noiselessly opened one of the portholes, and, hurriedly passing along, gained the officers’ quarters.
Meanwhile, Hardy and his companions were vainly tryin” to find him. The report of what had happened had spread among the men, and everyone was on deck t impatiently awaiting the lieutenant’s return. Captain Lacrosse did not attach much importance to the matter. He had said with a laugh,—
“Bah! There are Le Sieur and Schnecker and a man still away making observations to the north of the creek. It is one or the other of them we have seen, and the distance beini^ probably great, our hail has not been heard.”
What appeared to confirm this opinion was the renewal of the phenomenon on the return of Hardy and the two sailors. This time there was not one giant, but three.
Lacrosse hailed them through the speaking trumpet.
“Is that you, Hardy?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied the lieutenant’s voice, clearly and distinctly.
When they arrived on board, without having found anything, it had to be admitted that if the spectre had vanished, it must at least have heard the call, for at a distance which was estimated to be greater, the lieutenant and the men had heard Captain Lacrosse distinctly.
Lacrosse was uneasy about it, but allowed no sign of his uneasiness to appear. At the same time, suspecting that the affair might be a practical joke, and hoping to find out who had been guilty of it, he quadrupled the look-outs on deck, notwithstanding the lowering of the temperature, which had now reached twenty-eight below zero. And then he retired to his cabin to take a little rest.
He had not been there more than a quarter of an hour before his attention was attracted by a peculiar noise.
It was a sort of whistling, or rather a continuous rustling, very gentle, like the sound of gas or vapour escaping.
Lacrosse, who was stretched full length on his bed, jumped up and listened.
The noise did not come-from outside. It seemed to come from all parts of the ship, from the woodwork, from the bulkheads, from the deck, from the sides even. Justly alarmed this time, the captain left his cabin . and ran to the engine-room, where the gasometer had been placed with its expansion chamber. Perhaps one of the stokers had been using a boiler for laundry purposes?
He was soon reassured with regard to this. There was no steam in the boilers, and the fires which were lighted for a couple of hours each day for keeping the frost out of the pipes were dead out. The ship was being warmed in the ordinary way by means of coal, the chemist having agreed with the officers that it would be prudent to reserve the hydrogen until the winter set in with full severity.
Whence, then, came this strange, disquieting noise? Without betraying his apprehensions, which were strengthened by the preceding incidents of the evening, the captain called Hardy, and said to him, laconically,—
“Listen!”
The lieutenant listened, and noticed the strange rustling.
“Where does that noise come from?” he asked.
The two officers went back along the way they had come. A circumstance, insignificant in itself, put them on the track of the truth.
Lieutenant Hardy stumbled, having caught his foot in the carpet which covered the floor. He took a lamp to see what had caused him to stumble.
It was at once noticed that the carpet had been turned back. Beneath it was a small hatch giving access to the hold. This hatch, although in its place, was not shut quite down.
It was evident that someone had opened it. Perhaps someone had gone down into the hold, and was there now? A suspicion crossed the captain’s mind.
“Hardy,” said he, “will you call a couple of men? We will send them down.”
Did the lieutenant suspect his chiefs intentions? Anyhow, he went at once and got two men, ordering them to go down through the hatchway.
The men went silently down the narrow opening, and without any noise proceeded to clamber along in the dark among the packages of all kinds, on their way to the centre of the ship under the main hatchway.
The noise which had awakened the captain’s suspicions, grew louder.
It was a continuous whistling, as to the nature of which there could be no mistake.
“That is gas escaping,” said Gaudoux in his companion’s ear.
His companion seized his arm, and in a whisper, asked,—
“Did you hear that?”
Did he hear it? Never had he heard anything more clearly.
“Yes!” said he, “someone is moving the metal tubes.”
Again the noise was heard. Someone or something was further forward among the steel tubes. There could be no doubt about it.
Gaudoux put his hand in his pocket for some matches. His companion instantly stopped him.
“Do you want to blow us up?” he whispered.
Gaudoux understood. A tightness of the throat and an increasing cold also warned him. The hold, notwithstanding its openings, was rapidly becoming saturated with the deleterious gas.
Without another word the two men put their handkerchiefs over their mouths, and feeling their way over the bales and packages, went further on. Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, perceived a figure which was endeavouring to hide away from them. This time they were sure in their own minds of having to do with a man and not a spirit, and they hurried after the mysterious and dangerous investigator.
While Gaudoux, comprehending the danger of the position, made for the tube from which the gas was escaping and shut if off by means of the screw, and so stopped the noise, his companion went resolutely after the mysterious visitor.
But just as he was stretching out his arms to catch him, the man slipped away and ran back along the road by which the sailors had come. The sailors gave chase, knowing that Captain Lacrosse and Lieutenant Hardy were waiting at the hatchway, and would let no one pass without a little explanation.
And that was what happened.
Hearing the noise of the pursuit below, the officers by tacit accord let the hatch down as they had found it, and stepped aside so as to let the fugitive come out of the hold like a jack-in-the-box.
They had not long to wait.
Two hands appeared on the edge; then a head emerged;
finally a man came out, his clothes soiled with dust, with stains of tar and fragments of cobwebs, and his face blue with incipient asphyxia. Before he could reach the door Hardy and Lacrosse had seized him and rendered him incapable of resistance.
The captain of the Polar Star did not say a word. He had expected what had happened.’ But Lieutenant Hardy, who had not the same grounds of suspicion, could not help exclaiming,—
“What! Is it you, Monsieur Sc
hnecker? What were you doing down there?”
The chemist was visibly abashed. The lieutenant’s remark restored his presence of mind. Hardy seemed so astonished that he hoped he might escape.
He tried to joke it off, and bursting into a laugh, he said,—
“By Jove! gentlemen; you can boast of having thoroughly frightened me!”
“Why frightened?” said Hardy, more and more puzzled.
Captain Lacrosse suddenly broke in,— ‘ “What were you doing in the hold at this time of night?”
The chemist had time to prepare his defence. He tried to brazen it out.
“Captain,” he replied, “I went down to shut off the screws of one or two tubes of hydrogen from which I heard the gas escaping a few moments ago.”
The excuse was plausible. The chemist’s proceedings admitted of a very natural explanation. He had heard the noise made by the hydrogen before it had been noticed by Lacrosse, and had at once thought of saving the crew from perhaps the terrible death menaced by an explosion. If that was the case, he was deserving of praise and not of remonstrance. Captain Lacrosse was embarrassed for a moment. What could he do with this careful .man whom he had unjustly suspected?
But at this very moment Gaudoux and his comrade came up the hatchway.
At the sight of them the German changed colour and his face contracted.
This curious effect on the chemist’s features was noticed by all; and Hardy and the men, who had no suspicion of the real state of affairs, looked at him in wonderment, and gazed first at him and then at the captain.
Lacrosse, resuming the offensive, began to interrogate the men.
With a gesture merely, he requested Gaudoux to speak, while in a severe voice he formulated the question,—
“What was there unusual you noticed in the hold?”
The reply of the two sailors was identical.
They had heard the noise and seen a man moving about. Gaudoux had turned off the gas while his companion had given chase to the unknown. This unknown was the chemist, Schnecker.
But all the same, they both appeared confused at the consequences.
It was evident that they had no suspicion of this personage; it never having occurred to them that he could be a traitor.
Captain Lacrosse saw the difficulty of his position. The moral proofs he possessed were merely presumptions; material proofs he had none.
Then, more than ever, recurred to his mind Hubert’s warnings. And, fancying he could read on the German’s features the signs of a heroic triumph, he sent the men away.
“Gaudoux,” he said, “you will remain within call.”
Stopping with a gesture the lieutenant, who. was also going, he said,—
“Remain, Hardy; I want you!”
His tone was so serious, that for the third time the chemist looked troubled.
The captain pointed to a chair and ordered him to sit down.
Bernard Lacrosse had no two ways about him. He began,—
“Monsieur Schnecker, you may think yourself lucky I did not shoot you dead on the spot. Perhaps, however, you will understand that the event is only postponed.”
He said this, his look clear and cold as a blade of steel, looking straight into the eyes of the chemist, who had become livid.
Lieutenant Hardy was startled. A dialogue begun in this way boded no good. However, he was in no hurry to condemn his captain.
Bernard Lacrosse continued,—
“Your statement contains a manifest contradiction. You first tell us you went down into the hold to shut the tubes, from which the gas was escaping, and from what my men have said, it follows that the tubes were still open, for they shut one of them. And then you fled at their approach. That proves the contrary of your assertion. To be quite candid with you, I will tell you that I have been watching you for some time, and that I have my reasons for acting in this way. On your reply depends the opinion I shall henceforth have of you.”
The rascal again recovered from the surprise of this declaration.
Crossing his arms he looked boldly at the captain, and replied;—
“You are master,on board here, sir. Ask what you please.”
Lacrosse turned to the lieutenant,—
“Hardy, you are the only witness of this scene. But you are a man of honour, and a good Frenchman! Your evidence is enough for me. Will you act as registrar for a moment?”
The captain could not have made a better choice. Hardy was a model of honour and loyalty.
He took a pen and his note-book, and wrote down the interrogatory that follows.
“Monsieur Schnecker,” began Lacrosse, “you are entered on our roll as chemist, appointed to the expedition. Will you favour us with your names and qualifications?”
“What can that signify?” grinned the chemist. “My name is Hermann Schnecker. I was born at Mulhouse, and I graduated in the University of Paris.”
“You have your diplomas with you, of course?”
“No. I left them in Paris. It was not necessary for me to bring them with me. Besides, the services I have rendered the expedition are the best guarantees of my ability.”
Lacrosse could not restrain a little humour.
“I have no suspicion as to your ability,” said he. “If I ask for the production of your diplomas, it is for quite another motive. Yes, or no, can you show them?”
“No; I repeat that I have left them at home, in Paris!” .
“In that case, you will not take it amiss if, until fresh orders, I address you as Hermann Schnecker, a German subject, born at Konigsberg, and holding a diploma from the University of Dresden.”
The blow was well delivered. The chemist rose very pale. He endeavoured to protest.
“And the proof I have here,” said the captain, placing under Lieutenant Hardy’s eyes the document he had found in the laboratory.
“Sir,” said Schnecker, “that is an abuse of power absolutely iniquitous!”
Lacrosse replied very coolly,—
“You have just acknowledged that I am master on board here. Consequently, although I am ignorant of the motives which have possessed you, I charge you with having made an attempt against the safety of the crew and the success of the expedition, by endeavouring to deprive us of our store of liquid hydrogen. I do not care to sentence you before the return of Monsieur De Keralio, who is the head of our expedition. But until then, you will keep to your room under guard, and you will only leave it on my permission, or on that of the officers of the Polar Star.”
And taking no notice of the traitor’s reproaches, the captain called out, and a moment afterwards gave Gaudoux a loaded revolver.
“You will,” he said, “take this gentleman back to his room and you will not let him leave it again without orders. It he makes any attempt at insubordination or violence, you will blow his brains out! That is all.”
The German went out with his teeth and his fists closed, giving the impassible Breton a look of furious anger and implacable hatred.
CHAPTER XI
IMMURED.
THE drifting floe had frozen in, and again Isabelle and her companions resumed their toilsome way in pursuit of the travellers who returned not.
The cold grew more intense every day. The plain with its enormous hummocks stretched silent and desolate before the little troop. They began to suffer cruelly, and discouragement seized on them. In their effort not to betray their sufferings they were silent, and their silence was more eloquent than complaints.
Ten times already, since their departure from the ship, they had experienced the violence of the storm. The route grew longer in its dismal monotony; the sky, now all grey, looked like a shroud hanging over the earth.
There was nothing to show their nearness to that wall of ice which Hubert and Schnecker had not been able to pass in the balloon. Had it then changed its place, had it melted, or had the two men been the sport of an hallucination, the victims of glacial vertigo?
This question haunted Isabelle�
��s mind. In spite of the superhuman energy which supported her, she could not help gloomily despairing. They were near the end of August, and were no further advanced than at the beginning.
Suddenly, on the 26th, their doubts were solved as in a flash of lightning.
They had just found their latitude 87° 44'. The sky, gloomy as it was with the thick mist, appeared clearer and higher than usual. The wind, very strong during the night, had fallen altogether. An unusual, inexplicable calm reigned in the atmosphere. At the same time, by one of those strange caprices to which they were accustomed, the mercury rose in the thermometer, and stood at only 12 degrees below zero.
Suddenly, without any warning of such a change, the curtain of mist was torn apart from top to bottom. The sun, veiled for a week since, showed itself shining brightly, and its dazzling rays made the surface of the pack look like a sea of molten gold. The blue ice glittered like the diamond, and all over the icy plain rippled a stream of incomparable colours.
Isabelle could not restrain a cry of admiration. She joined her hands.
“How beautiful! How beautiful!” she repeated many times.
Her eyes, dazzled for a moment, could appreciate all the wonder of the spectacle. Now at last the explorers could measure the extent of the field that bore them. In less than a mile the field ended cut off short, and beyond was a surface of dark blue dappled with gold, making as it were an edging against which the white of the pack shone out with increased brightness.
“The sea!” exclaimed Isabelle. “The open sea, entirely free!”
At the cry Hubert ran up, followed by all the other members of the expedition.
It was indeed the sea.
But Hubert immediately exclaimed, “Yes, the sea! And beyond the sea the girdle of ice!”
And he pointed with his hand to the northern horizon.
Another white line was there, confused at first with the pale sky, but now reflecting the rays of the sun with such intensity that
the eye could not support the brightness thereof.
The travellers were again relieved from doubt. D’Ermont and Schnecker had not been mistaken. They had not been the sport of an hallucination. They had seen, with their own eyes, this palaeocrystic wall, this virgin rampart girt about the pole, as a defence against the attempts of audacious mortals. There it stood, to justify those who had claimed to be the first to see it.