Thyra Page 2

  "Fast express for the Pole!" shouted Balderston, and he swung down to join in the general handshake.

  Chapter II. The Hyperborean.

  After the first whirling and swaying of our ascent, the balloon became perfectly steady, and swept along in the super-terrestrial hurricane like a bubble on a placid stream. We had only to close our eyes to imagine ourselves motionless on solid earth and in a dead calm. Relatively speaking, this last was indeed true; for swift as was the air-current in which we floated, it bore the balloon along with equal swiftness, so that to us there was not enough breeze perceptible to flicker a match flame. Yet, gazing down ward from our lofty height, we could see ourselves driving along at arrowy speed above that terrible ice pack whose hummocks and crevasses had put us to so much vain toil and hardship.

  The thought of thus attaining in a few short hours what we had failed to win by months of strenuous exertions, keyed our spirits up to the highest pitch. Careless alike of cold, of hunger and of thirst, we stood immovable on the little platform, our eyes fixed steadfastly to the north. Mile after mile, the great ice-pack below glided away to the southward, while before us new stretches of the glittering waste rolled up above the distant horizon.

  Hours passed - still we soared over the vast ice-world, cold and rugged and desolate as a lunar landscape. The winding lanes of blue water had long since disappeared, and nothing was visible to our straining eyes but the huge vault of heaven above us, and below, the illimitable fields of palaeocrystic floe-bergs.

  Hunger at last roused the sergeant to action. He slipped down through the man-hole into the car, and in rummaging about, discovered an arrangement for swinging a little stove below the car's bottom. Presently the rest of us were drawn from our fascinated watch by a delicious aroma that wafted up around the car.

  "Coffee!" cried Balderston, and all three of us sniffed the odour with an eagerness sharpened by months of abstinence.

  "Black is cooking!" I exclaimed. "Think of eating civilised food again!"

  "It makes my mouth water," said Thord. "Hurrah for the sergeant!"

  "Ay; for at last he is doing something, while we stand here like fools," replied Balderston. "There must be instruments aboard, John, and it's high time we began taking observations."

  "True enough," said I, and our idleness gave place to hurried action. As was to be expected, we found the balloon well provided with nautical instruments, and together we sought hastily to determine our latitude, our hearts beating with feverish anxiety.

  "Half a degree beyond Nansen's farthest!" - we could scarcely credit our own words. Yet there was the calculation in black and white, plain before our eyes. All that the "Fram" had won by months and years of northward creeping, our balloon had covered and outstripped by a few short hours of eagle flight, - and still we swept on northward towards the great goal.

  As the full realisation of our good fortune dawned upon us, we whirled our woollen caps overhead and yelled like madmen. Not until Black popped up from the car and set a savoury meal under our noses - and even then not until our hunger overpowered us, - did we cease shouting. After months of famine and raw meat, however, even the Pole itself could not long have kept our thoughts from Black's steaming dishes. We fell to upon them like savages, and no one stood on the common decencies of etiquette.

  Each devoured what first came to hand, and the meal ended only when the dishes had been scraped.

  As the last morsel disappeared in Thord's cavernous mouth, Balderston turned with a sigh of contentment, and took up the binoculars. Leisurely he leaned upon the bearing-ring and raised the glasses to sweep the horizon. From northeast to north they turned. Suddenly they stopped, and I saw Balderston's lithe figure stiffen as though he had received an electric shock. Then he whirled about, his blue eyes and fair face beaming like a bride groom's.

  "Land ho!" he yelled.

  In an instant we were beside him, striving to see with the naked eye what was barely discernible through the binoculars. Realising this, I reached for the glasses.

  "What's it like?" I demanded.

  "Black and cloudy."

  "It is a cloud! I can see it change shape. If that is your land- "

  "Look at the lower edge."

  "The lower edge? - A-h; mountains! I see them well now, with the dark background. Not large - but they can't be ice. They stand too high above the horizon."

  Thord took the glasses and gazed long and steadily. When at last he handed them on to Black, he spoke with conviction "Never before have I looked at land so far; yet doubtless those are fells or jokuls. The black cloud is smoke from a burning jokul beyond."

  "A volcano!"

  "Why not?" said Balderston gleefully. "Think of warming our toes at a crater on the Pole! Now, old boy, we'll soon see what's what."

  "Ay; and see about Jarl Biorn," muttered Thord.

  "Jarl Biorn - what of Jarl Biorn?" I asked.

  "Have you never heard the saga of Jarl Biorn and the storming of Jotunheim?"

  "Did Snorre Sturleson write of him?"

  "No, but my father had a very old writing in Runic which told of him. He was a jarl outlawed from Norway about the year 925.

  He came to Iceland, and organised a large expedition to colonise the fair land which, Biorn said, they should find by sailing due north. They thought that by storming the icy walls of the frost giants they would come to a rich and beautiful country."

  "Did they turn back?" asked Balderston.

  "Not one of all the ships that sailed. All vanished into the north, never to return."

  "The first Arctic explorers. Poor fellow they head a long list of victims.

  "Perhaps; and yet, Doctor Godfrey, is it not possible they may have escaped? All the early writers agree that the Icelandic climate was far milder in the tenth century than now. The East Greenland pack did not then exist, as it does to-day. I believe it possible that such bold and hardy sailors could have crossed the Polar pack even this far north, and if that land is habitable, we may find their descendants living about the Pole."

  Balderston and I roared with laughter at this absurd fancy, and the lieutenant replied flippantly: "We may find white Biorn, Thord, warming his toes; but I have my doubts of any Biornsons."

  "That is to be seen," the giant coolly rejoined. "I'm glad you two are well versed the Eddas. Biorn must have sailed before Christianity reached Iceland, so no doubt we will find the colony's descendants still worshippers of the Asir."

  "I differ with you there," said I. "If we find them at all, I bet we find them - well packed in ice."

  "As some one may find us a few centuries hence," suggested Balderston.

  "Ugh - don't mention it!" I exclaimed. "The mere prospect of stalking about over the Pole is chilly enough for me."

  "On the contrary," said Balderston, "that prospect is warming to me. To think that a few short hours will bring us to the Pole!"

  "Ay, or past it," replied Thord. "Another observation wouldn't hurt."

  "True. Frank will see to it, while Black and I take stock of the balloon's stores."

  With no little caution, the sergeant and I drew ourselves up among the suspension ropes and began overhauling the great storage sacks. Our work in such a position was of course hurried and cursory, and we had dropped down again upon the platform, when Balderston announced the result of his work.

  "Eighty-seven degrees!" I repeated - "eighty-seven degrees!"

  Then Thord's deep voice rolled out in triumph: "Skoal, skoal to our Skidbladnir! She's truly an Eagle! Five hours more will bring us to the Pole."

  "Hurrah! We's gettin' dah. Jes' see dem mountings grow!" shouted Black.

  We turned to look. Already the mountains were visible to the naked eye, being distant about a hundred miles. The glasses showed that they formed a jagged chain of peaks, somewhat higher at the east end, and trending off to the left until lost in the iceblink. Over their crests, and backed by the black volcanic cloud, appeared a broad white plain, but whether a snow-covered platea
u or a cloud-bank we could not at first determine. Minute after minute, however, the view became clearer, until Thord at last declared that the white plain was a sea of fleecy clouds, floating at an elevation somewhat higher than that of the mountains.

  "Looks like a warmer temperature beyond the peaks, judging from the appearance of the clouds," observed Balderston, when the glasses passed around to him.

  Thord's big face lighted with sudden humour.

  "No doubt it's Paradise we're coming to," he said. "Some of you scientific fellows say that man first came from the north."

  "Well, it may be the Garden of Eden," replied Balderston smilingly; "yet I look more for the other place, - fire and brimstone - a big crater, you know."

  "We may find both," remarked Thord in a serious tone. "It may be the Niflheim of our heathen ancestors."

  "Don't talk crazy!" said I. "All we'll find would pass for Iceland in winter dress."

  "Maybe!" retorted Thord. "At any rate, we'll find nothing if we keep at this altitude. Beyond the fells, that cloud-sea blankets the whole earth. We must dip beneath if we wish to see anything."

  "True," said Balderston; "and yet that would likely bring us into a cross-wind, or even a counter-current."

  "We might try it," I replied. "If the wind is wrong, a sack or two of ballast will bring us up again. Being so near the Pole, we can well spare the gas and stores to survey this terra incognita. What do you say?"

  "You're boss, doctor," said Thord laconically.

  "Well, Frank?"

  "All right. It will give us a chance to christen our discovery. I suppose there is no champagne aboard; but no doubt I can rummage out a bottle of brandy."

  "Will we Ian', sah?" asked the sergeant, who was already making arrangements for his next culinary triumph.

  "Land? - Well, it is possible," I replied.

  "Any Apaches up dis way, sah?"

  "Hardly."

  "Ay; but my Biornsons may have run wild," put in Thord, with his broad grin.

  "Den I'll look to de guns, sah," said Black, taking the matter seriously. Without a moment's delay, he started in to inspect and load the guns with the utmost care. Thord and I grinned at each other, but we did not interfere. Neither of us expected to come across even the amiable Esquimo here in the heart of the Polar world; but we did look for white bears and Polar wolves.

  Every minute of the balloon's swift flight was now bringing out to our view the details of the Polar range. Already the white slopes and wind-swept. peaks stood out clear to the unaided eye. Beyond the first ridge, however, the veiling cloud-banks and the great black pall of volcanic vapours still concealed all that lay beneath. Only the ragged peaks and crags of the range, rearing up a thousand feet above sea-level, stood out intensely black against the snow, and Balderston presently declared that they were basaltic.

  "But what will the Pole be, lieutenant?" asked Thord in an anxious tone.

  "The Pole? - Oh, the Pole is a shaft of pure gold, seventeen feet three inches high, with a nice place on this side for us to cut our names with our penknives."

  "Am dat really true, sah?" cried Black, his eyes bulging.

  "True as the world is flat," said I. "Unfortunately, gold is so heavy, we will be unable to carry any away with us."

  "Besides, sergeant, the earth might get to wobbling, if we took off the end of its axis," added Thord.

  "Some folks's tongues is wobblin' now," muttered Black, as he saw the Icelander's blue eyes twinkle. "We'll see no gole pillows dis side Johdan."

  "`In the sweet fields of Eden - that's what we're coming to now," rejoined Thord.

  "We're coming down, at any rate, and pretty soon, too," said I. "Get some ballast handy, in case of accidents. Frank, you can look to the valve, seeing you have run balloons before."

  "All ready, whenever you say go," replied Balderston, and he took the cord of one of the escape-valves high up on the balloon's side.

  "Ten minutes from now should bring us down just short of that long ridge," observed Thord.

  "In ten minutes then," said I, and with quickened pulse, we waited the moment for our return towards Mother Earth. Eagerly we stared down upon the serrated peak crests while the last few miles of icefield glided beneath us. Six miles - five - four - three - two -

  "Let her go!" I shouted.

  I saw Balderston tug at the valve cord. Almost instantly a little gust of air fanned my face, like the waft of unseen wings. I hastened to gaze down over the bearing-ring. We were sinking - falling - with startling rapidity. It seemed as though some buried Titan was heaving mountains and floes alike swiftly upwards into mid-air.

  Even Thord, fearless as was his nature, could not stifle a cry of alarm. But I found assurance in Balderston's cool bearing. Cord in hand, he gazed over at the upheaving mountains, with no other expression on his handsome face than quiet curiosity. Yet he was none the less fully alert to his duty, as I could see by his quick glances at the barometer before him.

  Down, down we plunged, until Thord shouted that we should be dashed on the hummocks.

  "Steady - steady!" commanded Balderston, as the Icelander heaved up a sack of ballast, and with that he closed the valve.

  "You've dropped us too far!" I exclaimed, turning from the hummocks, in appearance so perilously near the car's bottom, to the mountain crests, which seemed to tower far above our level. But our eyesight was deceived by the sudden descent from the great altitude. Balderston only laughed at our dismay, and, after a little pause, held his barometer out to me.

  "See," he said, "twelve hundred feet."

  "Twelve hundred inches!" muttered Thord, and we stared down again at the hummocks. But already our eyes had begun to adjust themselves to the altered perspective, and we realised that Balderston was right. The balloon's descent had terminated at an altitude between eleven and twelve hundred feet.

  The next question was the direction of the wind at our new elevation. Thord was first to answer it.

  "Good," he said, closely eying the ice pack beneath us. "Our luck still holds - about a ten-knot breeze, bearing us towards the left end of that long ridge."

  "We will just scrape over the crest," remarked Balderston; "then, clear sailing. I see no other range in below the cloud-bank."

  "Those under mists obscure the view," I replied. "But if they hide any loftier peaks, we will have ballast ready, and can rise. If I'm right on the compass variation, we are heading only a little west of north, and the breeze is moderate enough to allow us a good view of the country in passing."

  "Reglah 'commodashun train to de Pole," observed the sergeant, no less elated than the rest of us.

  "Right you are, Black," replied his lieutenant. "But Station No. I is only a siding. I will heave out my brandy bottle, and we will not stop unless there are passengers."

  "Better get your bottle ready," said I. "If it is the ridge you are calling your station, it is not over three minutes off - and you have a new land to christen."

  "Don't worry; I have both liquor and name ready. But the honour should be yours, John."

  "Too late," I replied, waving aside the brandy flask. "I couldn't think up a name in a week. Another minute, and we'll be alongside that top ledge - thirty feet clearance - just nice and handy for your throw."

  "Ay; but hold on, lieutenant," cried Thord. "Give me a pull at the good stuff before you waste it."

  A smile flickered across Balderston's face, only to give way to deep gravity. He raised the flask in his right hand, and at the moment we were about to cross the ridge, his voice rang out clear and solemn: "In the name of the United States of America, I take possession of this land; and I name it - Polaria!"

  With the word, out whirled the flask of liquor, and all eyes turned to watch its flight. Out over the crest ledge it whirled, and we listened expectantly for the crash of shattered glass, - a crash which never came. Instead, our ears rang with a bestial howl, and up from the hollow where the bottle had fallen leaped the figure of a savage, - naked, squat, hairy,
with the face of a gorilla.

  For a moment the creature gaped at us in stupid wonder; then, with a yell of rage, he snatched a stone from the ledge beside him and hurled it at the balloon. The sack might as well have been tissue paper so far as offering any resistance to the missile. Through the lower bend the flint tore its way like a rocket, whirling out on the farther side with undiminished velocity.

  But the injury did not pass unavenged. As I craned my neck to stare upwards, aghast at the havoc wrought, Black clapped a rifle to his shoulder and fired. The savage, who had stooped for a second flint, leaped high in the air and pitched forwards over the cliff. His death-shriek mingled with the echo of the shot, which came up from the mountain slopes like a thunder-clap.

  "Huh - Apaches!" grunted the sergeant, and he slipped a fresh cartridge into his rifle.

  "Apaches? Bah, worse!" cried Balderston, staring back at the brown, misshapen body on the snowy slope. "Makes one feel queer; eh? Lucky you took him so quick, Black. That stone fairly sizzled - a second, better aimed, might have done for one of us."

  "Better aimed! - You say that, with those great rips in the balloon!"

  "Don't worry, John. The holes are not so large as you fancy, and after the gas we've let out, they are too far down for much more to escape."

  "Ay; we're sinking, - but as if we were in jelly," said Thord. "We can make an easy landing across this big hollow, on yonder slope. The friction of the guide-rope is already slackening our speed."

  "Yet it will mean a big bump, unless we rig an anchor," said Balderston.

  "Didn' fin' no ankahs. Yoh mus' hab cut dem loose, sah. But dah's plenty ob rope."

  "Yes, here is a thirty-fathom line," I added. "With a sack of ammunition to catch in the rocks, it will be just the thing. There is another question, though - how about more savages? What a brute- "

  "That's the word!" cried Balderston. "Why, the creature could have posed for a pre-glacial caveman. See any more, sergeant?"

  "No, sah. Single track up de snow to de ledge. But dah might be a whole tribe ambushed ober in dose rocks, sah."

  "If so, we'll have to clean them out, that's all. The balloon must be landed in one of the drifts between those rock heaps. We shouldn't waste any more ballast or gas than we can help."