“well, here we are,” announced captain biffer, as we grouped together on the deck to survey the scene. “and here we’re likely to stay for one while, i’m thinking. this is your warm world—how do you like it?”

“better than a cold sea,” i said, “when there’s a northeast gale blowing.”

“how long do we lay up here, chase?” asked chauncey gale. “you’re running this excursion.”

i was secretly uneasy, but i made light of the situation.

“oh, this is the usual thing. we’ll be here a day or two, perhaps, then the ice will separate again, or a lead form that will let us back to open water. we could hardly be shut in long at this season.”

“i’d invent something to beat this game if i was going to play it regular,” said gale, then added, “great place this to lay out an addition. ‘frozenhurst,’ how’s that for a name?”

116“can we go out on the ice?” asked edith gale.

“of course, if we are careful, and do not go far from the ship,” i said. “we can try our new snow-shoes.”

“i shall make the first antarctic experiment in wireless communication,” observed ferratoni.

“good time to look for the bake-apple,” suggested mr. larkins.

but just here came a sharp protest from zar.

“yas, i sh’d say baked apples! well, i reckon we jes’ ’bout as apt to fin’ baked apples as anything else in dis refrigidous country! not much, my miss edith ain’ gwine out on dat ol’ humpety, bow-back ice-pon’! no, sah!”

zar’s characterization of the sea’s aspect referred to the huge hummocks and heaved appearance of the ice in places. there were also many bergs, apparently at no great distance, and in spite of the old woman’s strenuous objections, edith gale and i planned to visit the nearest of these.

we did so in the afternoon. numberless penguins, sea-leopards and other species of antarctic life had gathered curiously about the billowcrest during the day, and some of these waddled and floundered after us when we set out. we could not make very rapid progress with our new foot-gear, and for a little distance made an interesting spectacle, with our procession of followers trailing out behind. “all hands and the cook” gathered on the deck to enjoy it.

“from our high vantage we could command a vast circle of sunless, melancholy cold.”—page 117.

117we carried one of ferratoni’s telephones—a neat, compact little affair, with handles for convenience, and from nearly a mile distant communicated with the inventor, who had ascended to the crow’s-nest for the experiment. it was a successful trial, and we believed it would have been equally so had the distance been much greater.

then we pushed in among the silent bergs, and ascending by a circuitous path to the battlements of a great ice fortress, tried it again.

“hello,” i called, “can you hear a message from the south pole?”

the answer that came back was as prompt as it was unexpected.

“there is a message in the air,” said the voice of ferratoni. “it is very close—around and about us. some day—perhaps soon—i shall hear it.”

i repeated this to edith gale, wonderingly.

“what do you suppose he means?” i whispered.

“you remember what i told you in the fighting-top,” she said. “i am sure of it now.”

i did not answer, but together our eyes followed the white way to the south.

a light snow had fallen during the forenoon, and dull clouds were banked heavily against the sky. from our high vantage we could command 118a vast circle of sunless, melancholy cold. beyond this there lay another horizon, and beyond that still another, and yet another. in this deep solitude the distant black outline of the billowcrest marked our only human tie.

a silence and an awe fell upon us—a mysterious fear of this pale land that was not a land, but a chill spectral semblance, with amazing forces and surprising shapes. we descended hastily and set out for the ship without speaking. from among the bergs the creeping gloom gathered and shut us in. uncanny sea-leopards and mournful penguins regarded us as we hurried past.

we were clumsy on our snow-shoes, but we consumed no unnecessary time in reaching the vessel, and not until we were warmed and cheered by a good dinner were we altogether restored. but then came weariness, and with the billowcrest now moveless and silent, we realized that night more fully than ever before the perfect blessing of dreamless, antarctic sleep.

and now passed some days in which i grew ever more uneasy, but maintained as far as possible a cheerful outward calm. the cold lingered, and the way seaward did not open. huge cracks split the pack here and there, but they did not reach the billowcrest. then came that terror of all polar expeditions—the ice pressure—the meeting and closing in 119of enormous ice-fields moving irresistibly in opposite directions.

we were awakened rather rudely by a sudden harsh grinding below, and felt the vessel heave, first to one side, then to the other. then there was an ominous rumble, which became a deafening roar. i hurried on deck, to find that a strong pressure was taking place, and that we were directly in its midst. our peril was great and imminent. i was turning hastily toward the cabin, when captain biffer ran down the deck yelling:

“take to the ice! take to the ice! she’s going down!”

at the same instant chauncey gale hurried out of the cabin, followed by edith gale and the others. the sailors were skurrying about helplessly.

“to the ice!” roared the captain. “to the ice! she’s going down!”

most of us scrambled for the rail. if i did not do so it was perhaps because there were others in my way. but chauncey gale, his hand on his daughter’s arm, stood firm.

“stop!” he shouted. “going down, nothing! she’s going up!”

and this was true. everybody saw it, now it was pointed out to them. thanks to the shape and strength of her hull, the sturdy billowcrest was being squeezed and lifted bodily into the air, instead 120of being crushed like a peanut, as would have been the case with an ordinary vessel.

for ten minutes or more the heaving and grinding continued. huge pressure ridges formed on every side, and the ice world about us was a living, groaning agony. then it seemed that there came relief. the pack split and thundered apart in every direction. the billowcrest settled back into place, and before us lay a long way of open water, stretching northward as far as the eye could reach. our steam was ready, and in a very brief time we were on our way back to the sea.

“that was about the tightest squeeze i ever got caught in,” observed gale, “and, say, i didn’t build her for a nip like that, but didn’t the old billowcrest do noble?”

“chauncey gale,” i said, “you’re the best ship builder, and the bravest man god ever made!”

“how much do you want to borrow?” asked gale, but he said it without bitterness.