for two days after the static cleared, there was no word from the silent northland. bert, serge, and andy remained in the radio room continuously, calling vainly for the neptune but each time their call went unheeded.
“something mighty serious has happened to the neptune,” declared bert, “or harry would have answered just as soon as the static cleared.”
“i’m afraid you’re right,” said andy. “they were getting into dangerous water when we last heard from them. personally, i’ve doubted all along that the neptune would ever get to the north pole. the ice pack there is too solid. they’d have to do too much underwater cruising.”
“do you think they’ve been trapped under the ice?” asked bert anxiously.
“no,” replied andy, “for they have the ice drill to cut a path to safety. but a submarine has so many things that can go wrong.”
late the second day andy’s father returned from washington and they informed him of the gravity of the situation.
“how long would it take to get the goliath ready for a polar trip?” he asked andy.
“not much more than six hours,” andy replied.
“better warn the crew to stand by. if we don’t hear from the neptune in another 48 hours we’ll start north in an attempt to locate them.”
two hours later the canadian station at montreal broke in with an urgent message.
“amateur operator at hopedale, labrador, has just messaged that submarine neptune is disabled and caught in ice. crew safe. approximate position: latitude 82° 21′ longitude, east 9° 31′. ask relief expedition.”
bert copied the message with a hand that shook so much the words were little more than a scrawl.
“tell montreal to stand by,” said andy, “while i rush this over to dad and captain harkins.” andy found his father and the commander of the goliath at the hotel where he burst in on their conference, the message in his hand.
“i was afraid of something like this,” said andy’s father. “the navy people in washington were inclined to be pretty pessimistic when i talked with them, yesterday. well, what do you say captain?”
the commander of the goliath asked andy for the latest weather report. it was favorable.
“we’ll start north at midnight,” he said.
“will you be able to make the trip, dad?” asked andy.
“sorry, son, but i’m due back in washington tomorrow for a conference that may mean the construction of more ships like the goliath. the army people have been tremendously pleased with the performance and are anxious for more, semi-commercial, semi-military dirigibles.”
andy hurried back to the radio room where he communicated the news to bert and serge. the message that the goliath would start north at midnight flashed to montreal but static delayed its transmission to hopedale, to which it was finally relayed and from there sent on to the waiting crew of the neptune.
reporters assigned to bellevue to cover various trial flights of the goliath sent out the news of the neptune’s fate and the word that the goliath was starting north at midnight. through the early hours of the night the hangar was ablaze with light as final preparations were made.
every motor was thoroughly checked, extra helium put in the gas cells and every precaution taken to insure the success of the long flight.
andy and captain harkins studied charts of the northland, plotting their proposed course.
it was finally agreed that they would fly north and east to montreal and then almost due north nearly 3,000 miles along the 76th meridian until they reached etah, greenland, on the northwestern tip of that ice-covered land. at etah they would swing east, skirting the north coast of greenland, then out over the desolate waste of ice on the last leg of their trip to find the crew of the neptune.
by eleven-thirty every member of the crew selected for the rescue trip was aboard, including two mail clerks. there would be no transfer of the mail to the neptune but the postoffice department had rushed a special cancellation from washington and letters already aboard would be carried into the arctic. at the scene of the rescue of the neptune’s crew the postal clerks would cancel the letters with the special stamp.
when the goliath started out of its hangar at midnight on the second of july, there were 62 men aboard, including the two postoffice clerks. the crew had been reduced to a minimum for they would pick up the 31 men from the neptune.
a typical july heat wave had gripped the nation for three days and they were glad to soar into the cooler heights. a thin moon peeped down at them as the great silver airship climbed into the sky and started north on its mission of rescue.
lights of bellevue vanished in the night. they went up to eight thousand feet and headed for montreal. bert, in the radio room, advised the canadian station of their start and asked that the news be sent on to the neptune, via the station at hopedale.
andy made a thorough trip over the goliath while serge remained in the control room as first assistant to captain harkins. in the last month serge had proved invaluable. he was thoroughly capable of handling the goliath and had the ability to size up an emergency in an instant and make the right decision.
a little more than an hour after leaving bellevue, the lights of pittsburgh appeared to their right. tongues of flame from the steel furnaces along the monongahela shot into the night as though in greeting to the king of the skyways.
the sky was brightening with the rose of a summer dawn when they passed over buffalo and headed down lake ontario.
captain harkins, who had been at the controls, complained of a severe abdominal pain and retired into the main lounge, leaving andy in charge. as they neared montreal, the commander’s suffering became more intense.
“i’m going to radio ahead and have a doctor meet us at montreal,” said bert. “captain harkins is a mighty sick man and unless i miss my guess, the trouble is acute appendicitis.”
andy agreed and told serge to make preparations to land the goliath when they reached the airport outside montreal. fortunately there was a mooring mast that had been used by british dirigibles in their trans-atlantic flights.
it was eight o’clock when the goliath nosed over montreal and prepared to descend after its 750 mile flight from its home field. a company from a canadian regiment stationed in the city had bean turned out and was ready to assist in bringing down the big airship. news that the goliath would stop had spread over the city and roads leading to the airport were jammed with cars.
with andy at the main elevator and rudder controls and serge beside him with a megaphone to direct the actions of the ground crew, they brought the goliath to an easy landing. as soon as the big ship was fastened securely to the mooring mast andy hastened back into the main salon where a doctor, who had boarded it the moment they landed, was examining captain harkins.
“acute appendicitis,” was the verdict and the doctor added: “to continue on this flight will undoubtedly cost captain harkins his life.”
“we’ve got to go on,” protested the commander of the goliath. “the lives of 31 men in the neptune, trapped in the arctic, depend on us.”
“you’ve got to think of yourself once in a while,” replied the surgeon tartly.
“we can take the goliath on, captain harkins,” said andy. “serge has demonstrated that he is an expert pilot and navigator. between the two of us we can handle the ship.”
captain harkins smiled through pain-tightened lips.
“i’m sure you can,” he said, “but you’d better get an official o. k. from your father. he planned to fly back to washington but you may be able to get him at bellevue before he starts.”
bert got through to bellevue at once and in five minutes andy was talking with his father by radiophone.
“we’ve got to go on,” said the assistant pilot of the goliath, “and captain harkins is desperately ill. serge and i can take the goliath through if you’ll give your permission.”
“then don’t waste any time,” replied the executive vice president of the national airways. “tell captain harkins i’ll fly up to see him as soon as possible. good luck, son, and the best of weather.”
breakfast was served to the crew while the goliath was moored at the montreal airport and at nine o’clock andy gave orders to resume the flight.
captain harkins refused to leave the airport until the goliath was under way and he watched the big ship move away from the mooring mast and soar into the sky from his cot beside an ambulance. andy dipped the nose of the goliath in salute to its commander and then headed the dirigible due north, following just east of the 76th meridian.
the day was clear and warm with a slight breeze from the south to speed them on their way and they roared into the northland at a steady hundred miles an hour. the fertile lands around montreal were replaced by the heavier forests of middle quebec and as the sun sped on its western path they looked down on a desolate land of brush, swamp and giant mosquitoes which infested the region in summer. there was little habitation in the country below them for it was a quagmire in summer and a frozen waste in winter.
there were innumerable lakes and rivers sighted during the day but by sundown these had thinned out into a few streams which sent their waters westward into hudson bay.
bert kept in almost constant communication with montreal for the rescue flight of the goliath was the news of the hour for every paper in the united states and canada.
serge had taken a long afternoon shift at the controls while andy slept and at sundown they changed, serge going back into the main cabin for a warm supper and a few hours sleep. at midnight he would relieve andy.
the wind had died down to a whisper. the sky was brilliant with stars and the goliath made steady progress northward. there was a chill in the air by midnight and serge had on his sheepskin when he came forward to relieve andy.
“they’re having trouble with no. 5 engine again,” said andy, “and i’m going back and see what’s up. i’ll have them cut it off until they find out just what’s the matter.”
serge nodded, squinted at the chart and compass, and swung the nose of the goliath one point east.
back in no. 5 engine room andy found the motor crew battling a stubborn piece of machinery. the motor would turn over all right but they couldn’t get the necessary speed. andy slipped into a pair of coveralls and worked with the crew. the trouble was in the timing and it took them two hours to do the job.
when andy returned to the main gondola, the sky was light in the east for they were getting into a latitude where the summer nights were short and the days extremely long. andy stepped into the control room and serge pointed ahead of them to a blue expanse of water.
“hudson strait,” he cried and andy, hardly believing the words, looked at the chart. an hour later they were cutting across a corner of fox land. then the goliath was over baffin land with the waters of baffin bay ahead and to their right.
at five a.m. andy, who had slept for two hours, relieved serge. a sharp wind had come out of the north and the goliath’s speed was down to seventy miles an hour.
the broad expanse of baffin bay was dotted with ice. they nosed out over home bay with the open area of the south water beneath them. ahead was the great area of everlasting ice known as the middle ice. for three hours the goliath fought its way over the ice sheet. then came the 25 mile stretch of open water known as middle water and then another sheet of desolate ice. it was noon when the goliath finally left the middle ice and looked down on the berg-dotted stretch of north water. to their right was that majestic land of eternal ice—greenland, while to their left was the desolate reaches of ellesmere island.
serge took over the controls but andy, instead of going back to rest, remained at the window, looking down at the ever-changing panorama.
bert had managed to pick up the wireless station at etah and had asked for a weather report.
“clear but a thirty mile wind from the north,” etah had replied, when the operator had recovered from his astonishment at learning of the proximity of the goliath.
with their speed greatly curtailed by the strong wind and a desire to economize as much as possible on fuel, it was late in the day when the goliath stuck its nose into smith sound and looked down at etah, the farthest north year-round settlement of greenland.
the goliath dropped low over etah in salute to its residents. then the motors of the goliath echoed their power through the stillness of the arctic, andy brought the nose up, and they proceeded up smith’s sound and into kane basin.
ahead of them loomed a gray blanket of fog and andy sent the goliath climbing for altitude. four, five, six, even seven thousand feet they fought their way against the bitter wind but the drifting mist of gray enveloped them. they came down to eight hundred feet but there was no escape. the fog clung to the earth and it was impossible to see more than two hundred feet ahead of the control room. double lookouts were posted and extra men ordered into the observation cockpits atop the goliath with telephone sets strapped to them so they could communicate any possible danger or send news of a break in the fog bank.
the goliath crept ahead under reduced speed, barely feeling its way along. andy knew that below them was the great ice cap which covered greenland and in the region over which they were now flying an occasional mountain peak reared its head through the eternal blanket of ice and snow. the danger of colliding with such a peak was known to every member of the crew and not a man so much as closed his eyes while the goliath battled the fog.
the real danger from the fog, which only andy and serge realized, was ice. in less than half an hour the outer covering of the goliath was sheathed in ice. the sides of the gondola were covered with the treacherous stuff and even the windows froze over. it was necessary to lower them and the cold fog swept into the control room. sheepskins were buttoned close as the goliath moved slowly ahead.
serge kept his eyes on the altimeter. the needle was wavering at eight hundred feet. then it dropped to seven-fifty and finally to seven hundred. the weight of the ice was forcing them down.
serge nudged andy and pointed significantly to the needle. it was down to six seventy-five. andy nodded grimly and ordered more speed, at the same time trying to nose the goliath higher with the increased lifting power of the additional speed.
they gained a bare hundred feet, held it for five minutes, and then saw the needle of the altimeter start down.
“take the controls,” andy told serge. “i’m going to ask for volunteers to go on top with me and try and chop the ice loose.”
“you can’t do that,” protested serge. “the risk is too great. someone will slip off and be killed.”
“it’s either going up top and trying to clear off the ice or wait here until we’re forced down and crash into something, which would mean the loss of the goliath and the end of the rescue flight to the neptune. i’ve got to go.”
there was no hesitancy among the crew in volunteering for the dangerous task. they equipped themselves with short axes and steel bars, special steel cleated shoes and ropes fastened around their waists. andy divided his crew of volunteers, four of them going aft and three of them accompanying him aloft at the bow of the goliath.
when they emerged in the observation cockpit where another member of the crew was huddled trying to peer into the fog, they found themselves in a world alone. ahead, behind, and on each side stretched the solid wall of cold, gray mist. the top of the goliath shone dully under the sheet of ice, the depth of which was increasing every minute.
“lash yourselves to the steel cable along the catwalk,” andy cautioned them, “and be careful in using the axes. don’t chop through the metalized covering if you can help it.”
the men nodded grimly and crept cautiously out on the catwalk, each one careful to fasten the rope around his body. setting the spikes on their shoes firmly into the ice, they began hacking away at the menacing shield which covered the goliath.
it was a slow, tedious task and the air was bitter cold. they cleaned off the forward part of the catwalk and then started cautiously out on top of the goliath. great sheets of ice slipped away under the prying of their bars but it seemed that new sheets formed almost as fast as they pried the old ones loose.
andy’s hands became numb and his face felt like an icy mask.
the lookout in the observation cockpit shouted at them.
“control room says we’re holding steady now at five hundred feet. asks if you want more help.”
“tell them to send up a relief crew,” replied andy. ten minutes later three fresh men were working with him and they attacked the ice with renewed vigor. andy felt fortunate that there had been no accident so far but the thought was hardly in his mind when one of the new men, overly-enthusiastic, slipped and disappeared in the fog. his safety rope was fastened to the cable along the catwalk, but he had been in too much haste to tie it securely and andy saw the rope slipping. somewhere over the side of the goliath this man was hanging, undoubtedly feeling the quiver of the rope as the knot slipped.
forgetting his own danger, andy hurled himself along the catwalk. he seized the other man’s safety rope just before the knot gave way. andy’s arms jerked out straight and he cried aloud at the sudden pain. he wrapped his legs around the cable on the catwalk and sprawled out on top of the goliath, head-foremost toward the edge over which the other man had disappeared.
andy’s cries brought the attention of the watch in the observation cockpit and the other two men working on top with him. as fast as the treacherous condition of the catwalk would permit, they hastened toward him but to andy their progress was painfully slow.
the rope was slipping through his hands. his fingers tightened until it seemed they would crack but they were so numb from cold he couldn’t put his full strength on the rope. it was slipping faster and faster. somewhere on the other end the man who had been working beside him only a minute before was swinging like a pendulum along the side of the ice-encrusted dirigible.
andy cried out again. he saw the three coming to his aid hurl themselves toward him. he closed his eyes. the rope was slipping faster. something hit him so hard that he gasped for breath and the rope raced through his fingers. he clutched at it and his fingers closed against his own palms.
when andy opened his eyes one of the crew was bending over him while the other two were pulling their companion up over the side of the goliath. they had reached andy just as his numbed fingers let go their hold.
a minute later the man who had been looking death in the face was safe on the catwalk, grateful to andy for the risk he had taken.
bert, who had sensed something wrong when the watch in the forward cockpit had failed to answer, came charging up. andy was in no condition to remain up top longer and bert made him go below into one of the engine rooms to thaw out.
crews on top of the goliath were changed every half hour and in this manner the dirigible wallowed through the fog. it was mid-forenoon before the haze showed any signs of lifting but at noon there was a definite break and the arctic sun soon dispelled the menace in gray.
when andy was able to shoot their position again, he found that the goliath was approaching cape morris jessup, the northernmost tip of greenland.
there were irregular leads in the ice pack which surrounded the cape, but these soon dropped behind and the goliath moved out over the white expanse of the silent arctic. they were on the last leg of their long flight, heading east and north now for the position from which harry had sent his appeal for help. the second day slipped away and they recorded the coming of the third in their log book.
they were fifty-five hours out from bellevue. the sky was clear but the chill wind still swept out of the north. the interior of the main cabin and control room was warm again and the crew experienced no discomfort in its flight.
they crossed the greenwich meridian at noon the third day. the neptune was somewhere east of them by nine degrees and 31 minutes and about two degrees north. andy altered the course slightly and the goliath swept nearer the north pole, although still some three hundred miles from that visionary goal.
every man who was not on duty in the control or engine rooms was at the windows or stationed in the observation cockpits atop the dirigible, straining ahead for some glimpse of the neptune and its marooned crew.
static had been bad all morning but bert kept up an incessant call for harry. it was an hour after crossing the greenwich meridian when he received his first answer and his wild whoop of joy brought andy into the radio room on the run.
“i’m talking with harry now,” cried bert. “he says to hurry. the pack ice is breaking up and the neptune may be lost at any minute.”
“tell them to get out of the tin tub and get onto the ice where they’ll be safer,” replied andy. “we’ll be there within another hour.”
“two members of the crew are sick,” replied bert.
“then they’ll have to fix up some kind of shelter on the ice,” said andy.
“and harry says it looks like a norther is coming up,” added the radio operator.
“tell him we’re coming at full speed. have him keep his set going and use your radio compass in guiding us to him.”
bert agreed and andy hastened back to the control room.
“bert’s just talked with harry,” he told serge, “and harry says it looks like a bad storm is brewing. we’ll put on full speed and pick them up just as soon as possible.”
word telephoned down from the observation cockpits warned the control room that clouds to the north looked bad. this news added confirmation to that received from harry and the goliath raced over the waste of ice and snow at a hundred miles an hour. every eye was strained ahead to catch some sign of the trapped submarine and its crew.
“the ice is more open here,” andy told serge. “i wouldn’t be surprised if the neptune has disappeared by the time we reach there. harry said the ice was getting dangerous and i warned them to get out at once.”
“i’ve had enough of the arctic right now,” said serge. “the experience with the fog scared me half to death. i thought sure we were going to crash over greenland and we would if you hadn’t gone aloft and kept enough of it chopped off.”
“we ought to be near the neptune now,” said andy, “unless my calculations are way off.”
“want me to start circling from here?” asked serge.
before andy could reply, bert came from the radio room.
“the neptune is due north of us,” he cried. “harry sent a flash. said he caught a glimpse of us with the sun slanting off the silver sides.”
serge swung the rudder over hard and the goliath, its motors working rhythmically, bored into the heart of the northland. ahead a solid wall of gray was mounting toward the heavens. in less than an hour the blizzard would be on them.
five minutes later the watch in the no. 1 cockpit on top phoned that he had sighted the neptune.
“crew’s on the ice,” was the terse message. “the sub’s still in sight but the ice is moving and it won’t be long until the sub is gone.”
andy’s keen eyes were the first in the control room to sight the marooned crew of the neptune. behind them he saw the great ridge of ice in which the neptune had been caught. the dark nose of the undersea craft was still in sight but the ice was heaving and churning under the pressure of the moving ice pack.
fissures in the ice were widening and the wind swooped out of the north with an ominous roar. flurries of snow swept past them. the temperature was dropping fast. the rescue must be a matter of minutes or the arctic might claim the goliath as well as the neptune.
“you’re better at a landing than i am,” serge told andy. “take over.”
andy stepped into the place of command and under his skillful hands the goliath slid down toward the crew of the neptune. steel cables, with heavy grapnels, had been rigged especially for a landing on the ice. when andy gave the order to shut off the engines, the steel hooks were dropped. they caught on the uneven ice and electric winches to which they were fastened rapidly drew the goliath down until the main gondola rested just above the ice pack.
harry was the first to reach the gondola where he was greeted enthusiastically by andy, bert and serge.
“you’re just in time,” he told them. “the ice is breaking up. that means the end of the neptune and this blizzard would probably have finished us.”
while harry was talking, the sound of the coming storm was drowned by a series of splintering crashes. the ice ahead of them heaved and buckled.
great chunks were hurled into the air. the nose of the neptune was pushed straight up. for a moment the submarine hung in this position. then, to the accompaniment of the steady booming of the ice, the sleek, steel hull slid from view. it was gone in ten seconds—devoured by the ever-hungry arctic.
gilbert mathews, who had aged years in the last few days, stumbled across the ice.
“thank heaven you’ve arrived,” he cried. “we must hurry. the blizzard is almost upon us.”
in twos and threes the crew of the neptune hurried toward the goliath. a twilight had settled over the scene and the lights from the cabin windows of the goliath shone strangely through the dusk of the coming storm.
serge and a crew from the goliath brought the two men from the neptune who were ill aboard. some of them carried a few personal possessions. most of them had only the clothes they wore but they were thankful to have even those.
the last hours aboard the neptune had been hours of terror with the constant danger of the ice breaking up and dropping them into the depths of the arctic. with rescue at hand, some of them were almost hysterical with joy. mathews spoke to andy.
“i know the arctic,” he said. “get out of here as soon as you can. this storm is going to be terrific. as soon as the last man is aboard, take off.”
every motor was running smoothly and easily.
“stand by for a quick take off and a run before the storm,” he warned the engineers. “our lives will depend on you. we’ve got to make time.”
back in one of the cabins the postal clerks were busy cancelling the letters which had been the only pay cargo aboard the goliath on the polar trip. they were obvious to the dangers of the coming storm and andy envied them their lack of worry.
“everybody on,” reported serge. “let’s go.”
“let’s go,” echoed andy and the command was flashed back to the engine rooms. the goliath quivered to the pulsation of the powerful motors. to save time, the steel cables with the grapnels were dropped on the ice and the goliath shook its nose at the gathering storm as it roared aloft.
the take-off had not come a moment too soon. the goliath had barely turned around and headed south, when the blizzard struck in all its fury. a dry, biting snow enveloped the dirigible and the lights from the cabin windows made only faint glows in the sea of swirling white.
with motors turning over at full speed, the goliath raced due south. but fast though the goliath traveled, the storm kept pace. andy was thankful for one thing. the snow was dry. it wouldn’t freeze to the sides and force them down.
the air outside was bitter cold and despite the heating system in the gondola, a penetrating chill crept in.
“how about the two men who are sick?” andy asked the explorer.
“it’s flu,” replied mathews. “they’re over the worst of it but so weak they can hardly move. however, if they had been exposed to many hardships, it would have turned into pneumonia and they wouldn’t have had a chance.”
bert had managed to send out a flash on the rescue of the crew of the neptune and had added that they were running before an arctic blizzard. this meager information was relayed by the hopedale station and for hours a waiting world wondered and waited for news of the goliath and its daring crew. they knew the king of the skies was battling for its life somewhere in the northland; they knew that its commander was ill in a montreal hospital and they wondered at the stuff of which andy and his assistants were made. could they bring the goliath through the dangers and rigors of a blizzard in the arctic?
radio stations all over the northland tuned their sensitive ears for some word from the goliath, but the wall of static had dropped and their calls went unanswered.
in the meantime, the goliath was racing south, its motors on full as it sped through the storm. they were doing a hundred and thirty miles an hour but the snow stayed with them and the cold was even more intense.
the great ship was running blind. the only direction was south. anything to escape the tearing savagery of the arctic. serge stood silent at the controls while andy went on a tour of inspection. the engine crews were getting drowsy from their long vigil and he ordered the steward to serve a hot lunch for everyone.
andy was in the rear of the goliath, leaving the last engine room, when he heard a peculiar whistling sound. a draft of cold air struck him and he turned quickly toward the tail of the ship, stopping only long enough to get a flashlight from the engine room. he worked his way along the narrow catwalk in the tail. the blast of air was stronger. the beam of his flashlight traced a finger of light through the duralumin girders and cables which formed and controlled the main elevator.
the light fastened on one section of the right elevator. there was a great tear in the metalized fabric through which the wind was whistling in an increasing crescendo. unless the tear was repaired at once, the goliath would be in grave danger of getting out of control for the opening was growing larger and would soon render the elevators useless.
andy ran back to the engine room where he telephoned serge to reduce their speed to a minimum. the same call brought bert and harry back on the run and another call brought two expert riggers with a roll of the metal cloth and a can of cement, which they heated in the engine room.
the chief rigger, mac glassgow, looked at the rip in the elevator.
“it’s a mean one to fix,” he asserted, “but we’ll do the job.”
“we’ve got to,” urged andy. “it’s growing larger every minute.”
“an inside job won’t be so hard,” said mac, “but to make it stick, it should be patched from the outside.”
“there’s no place to land and do that,” protested bert.
“i know, i know,” said mac, “but an inside patch will never hold.”
“you mean someone ought to go up top, lower themselves down on the outside, and make the patch?” asked andy.
mac nodded.
“that’s the ticket,” he said. “i’m a bit too old and stiff or i’d do it in a minute. the graf zeppelin’s crew had to do it one time off the atlantic coast in weather about as bad as this.”
“i’ll go up,” replied andy. “get the patch ready, mac. bert and harry will come along to lower me away.”
andy’s friends protested that it was a foolhardy attempt, but he refused to listen to them.
“we are all in grave danger,” he said. “the attempt must be made. as long as you fellows hang onto the rope i’ll be in no danger.”
other members of the crew were summoned and under mac’s expert direction a temporary patch was placed inside the elevator fin. while this was being accomplished, andy prepared for the outside job.
a harness of leather straps was rigged around his shoulders and body and to this was attached a strong new one inch rope. mac had cut the patch to the proper size and the cement had been placed in a double bucket to retain its heat. the motors were turning over just fast enough to give the goliath steerage way.
andy and his two companions ascended the ladder to the rear right cockpit, from which the commander of the goliath was to be lowered over the side.
the wind was blowing a gale that chilled them instantly.
“you’ll freeze to death before you get down to the fin,” said bert.
“i’ll hug this cement pot,” replied andy. “all set?”
andy slid over the side and bert and harry lowered away on the rope. foot by foot andy eased down over the smooth side of the goliath. twenty, thirty, forty feet he went out and down. just below he caught the glow of light inside the fin and the outline of the makeshift patch which mac and his rigger had slapped on inside.
the young pilot sprawled flat on the surface of the fin, arms outstretched. the cloth to complete the patch was fastened on his back.
with chilled hands he opened the top of the cement pot and seized the brush. the rip in the fin was about twelve feet long and two feet wide. andy slapped the cement on the back end first, shut the top of the pot, readied for the patch, and put the end in place before the cement had a chance to cool. the goliath was drifting through the storm and andy had patched the end of the hole which received the greatest force of the wind.
he worked forward carefully, stopping now to apply the cement liberally, then unrolling the patch, and moving ahead another foot to repeat the operation. in the fin beneath, he could hear mac, the rigger, shouting encouragement. he needed it. he was worn almost to the breaking point by the responsibility which had been on his shoulders ever since the goliath left the airport at montreal. tears froze to his cheeks and he cried aloud at the pain in his cold white hands. his movements were mechanical. slap on the cement, unroll the patch, slap on the cement, unroll the patch.
suddenly there was no more cement to put on, no more cloth to unroll. the job was done. the danger that the fin might be ripped off by the wind was over. andy closed his eyes and his numbed hands slipped. there was a sensation of falling and he knew that he was slipping off the fin but he was in a lethargy, unable to help himself. he felt himself dip over the edge of the fin; knew he was falling into the storm and darkness.
when he opened his eyes half an hour later he was in the warmth of one of the rear engine rooms. bert and harry were beside him.
“what happened while i was on the fin?” demanded andy.
“the cold got you,” replied bert, “and you slipped off. good thing we had a rope around you.”
“is the fin all right?” andy asked eagerly.
mac glassgow, the chief rigger who had remained in the background, stepped up.
“best job of patching i ever saw,” he exclaimed. “we’ll have no more trouble with that fin this trip.”
“how’s the storm?” was andy’s next question.
“we’re running out of it now,” replied harry.
“serge just phoned back that the sky was clearing and it is much warmer.”
despite andy’s protest, they made him go to bed, and harry sat down to see that their wishes were enforced.
when andy awoke again the sky had cleared and the goliath was cruising through brilliant sunshine. the events of the storm were like a nightmare.
serge was still at the controls. he was tired and worn by the long ordeal, but he smiled happily when he saw andy.
bert came out of the radio room with a sheaf of messages.
“i’ve sent out a complete story of our trip,” he informed andy, “and messages are coming in almost every minute now. here’s a couple you’ll want.” the first was from andy’s father, then in washington.
“have just learned of fine work of yourself and crew of goliath. i’m proud of you, son.”
the other was from captain harkins. it read: “great work, andy. my congratulations to bert, harry and serge. many happy landings.” andy passed the messages along to harry and serge, who read them eagerly.
“you’ve done a fine piece of work in taking the goliath into the arctic and bringing back the neptune’s crew,” said harry. “you deserve all the congratulations.”
“they’re embarrassing,” grinned andy, “for you fellows deserve just as much credit as i do.”
“we won’t quarrel over that,” said serge. “incidentally, if anyone is curious, that point of land to our left is cape bismark and that rather inhospitable-looking stretch of ice and snow beyond is king william land.”
“which means nothing at all to me,” replied bert.
“if you could read a chart,” replied serge lightly, “you’d know that we are now off the east coast of greenland, proceeding south by west at ninety miles an hour with clear skies and a favoring tail wind. also, i’m going to bed.”
with motors tuned perfectly to their task, the goliath sped southward toward new york, where it would stop to land the crew of the neptune. andy, again at the controls, smiled happily for the goliath had proved beyond any question that it was master of the elements—king of the skies.
