CHAPTER I
TO THE NORTH.
EVERYWHERE the sea, east, west, north, or south; the sea, gloomy and grey, full of trouble and sorrow, under a sunless sky. And oil this sea a ship, long and narrow, beneath a cloud of smoke which the singularly low breeze is rolling off to disperse in the ambient air.
Twelve days ago this ship left Cherbourg. She is not a ship of war, although two long steel guns are on her deck forward and aft. The French colours are at the peak, and her speed is that of a first-class ocean liner. And yet, notwithstanding her speed, she is only in 70° north latitude. There have been good reasons for the delay.
Spring is approaching. To gain time the travellers have started at the end of March. The voyage has to be conducted with the greatest care, for the ice has begun to break up. Several bergs were met with off Ekersund, where the steamer had to slow. When the sea was clear again she had coasted the high cliffs of Norway, the region of the fiords. Now the North Cape is only a few miles to the eastward. To-morrow, or the day after tomorrow, as soon as the warm current will permit, the ship will reach it, and on the I5th of May the Northern Ocean will be entirely clear.
On the after-deck two men are in conversation; comfortably seated in large folding-chairs and looking out over the stern.
One of these men is young. He looks about twenty-eight years of age. He is tall, broad-shouldered and well-built. His companion is white in hair and beard and seems to be over fifty. They are talking with a sustained interest due to the object and conditions of the voyage.
“Our Star has not stumbled since we started. She behaves like an old hand at sea. Let me congratulate you. She is a perfect model of a ship, and you have every reason to be proud of her, inasmuch as you are her father.”
It was the younger man who had spoken. The elder smiled at the compliment. He answered modestly,—
“Certainly, I am her father, her adopted father. But it was Lacrosse who found her in her baby clothes. How much do I not owe to him, and to you, my dear Hubert! For three years I have been robbing you without your suspecting it, and putting your combined knowledge and experience under contribution.”
“Oh! my experience, uncle, is of very little importance. All the value that word may have I leave to Captain Lacrosse. As for me— ”
“As for you/’ interrupted De Keralio, “are you not the inventor of the submarine boat of which we expect such wonders?”
Hubert smiled.
“Well, I admit I am worth something. But this something is at present merely experimental, and besides, the discovery is not mine entirely. Half the invention belongs to my brother Marc, and if the result justifies our hope, it is to him, above all, that the glory will belong.”
De Keralio laughed.
“Ah! yes,” he said. “The famous secret you must not reveal before its time.”
“Precisely, my dear uncle; the secret which must not be divulged before a conclusive experiment.”
“In that case the time has come to try it,” said a girl’s clear, fresh voice behind the men.
They both turned.
“Well, cousin,” said Hubert with a respectful bow.
“My little Belle,” said De Keralio. “Have you come to tell us breakfast is ready? I know not if it is the wind that has freshened and made us feel hungrier than usual, but I confess that my appetite seems rather in advance of its time.”
The new comer held out her hand to the young man, and presented her forehead for a paternal kiss.
“No, father,” she replied, “your appetite is mistaken. It is not quite ten o’clock in the morning, and I have come to assist in the spectacle which is in preparation, Captain Lacrosse has Just told me that in a minute or two we shall have a grand illumination of the ice.”
And without any ceremony she drew a chair up to the two men and sat down.
She was a fine handsome girl of twenty, brown of hair and blue of eye, the type of the native Cymric and Iberian races, such as the Irish, the Gaels of Scotland, and those of the coast of Brittany, Her whole figure, lithe and well-built, told of strength rare among women, as the metallic glitter of her eyes under certain knittings of the brows betrayed unusual energy of character. Evidently she possessed the soul and frame of a true heroine, .as free from boasting and display as from awkward timidity.
Belle—or to be more exact—Isabelle de Keralio, was the only daughter of a landowner and manufacturer, owning certain properties and establishments in Canada where his family had been settled for two centuries.
Pierre de Keralio, a Breton by birth, had returned to the land of Ins fathers and taken up his abode on a magnificent estate m the environs of Roscoff. Isabelle had been but ten years old when she returned to her native land. She had grown up among the people of the country in the loving care of her father, who had become a widower soon after his daughter’s birth. He had retained for her the assiduous and quasi-maternal care of Tina Le Floc’h who had nursed her; and nothing could be more touching than the peasant’s affection for her adopted child. At the same time, as he had no other children, the wealthy De Keralio had given a home to two young orphans, eighteen and twenty years old, his nephews, Hubert and Marc D’Ermont, the sons of his sister who had died at the same time as her husband, Robert D’Ermont, a captain in the French navy. Hubert had completed his preparatory studies at the Naval School. His uncle, so far from objecting, encouraged him in his liking for the glorious career upon which he had entered. Two years later the young man began his sea-faring life as a second-class cadet.
Now he was a full-blown lieutenant. Unlimited leave granted by the minister for the encouragement of the generous and patriotic attempt of De Keralio, had permitted him to share in the risk as well as in the glory to come of this expedition into those fatal regions from which so few explorers have returned.
Hubert’s elder brother Marc, was of a delicate and sickly constitution, but of rare intelligence, and had devoted himself to the study of physical science. At thirty he was one of the most distinguished scientists of the capital; his name had on many occasions come to the front on account of his useful discoveries. He had been unable to accompany his brother and uncle in their expedition; but for two years he and Hubert had been engaged in mysterious and difficult researches for increasing the voyage’s chances of success by new means and methods due to the invincible power of science.
Isabelle dc Keralio was a somewhat peculiar personage, whose character and education did not in many ways resemble those of an ordinary French girl. To her long sojourn in America she owed, perhaps by mere force of habit slowly acquired, that virile energy which contrasted so strongly with the gentleness, the languor even, and the timid graces of the women of old Europe. Accustomed to all bodily exercises and equipped with high intellectual culture, she would doubtless have frightened any other lover than Hubert.
But Hubert knew her well. He knew that her ways, differ as they might from those of young Frenchwomen, in no way detracted from her good qualities, that they only concealed from the unobservant eye the treasures of tenderness and charity in which her noble heart abounded. Besides, Isabelle put off this strange exterior in the intimacy of home. She recovered all the charms of her sex, and that with a rare power of fascination. An accomplished musician, whether she ran her fingers over the keyboard or used her admirable voice in all its ringing fullness. She then manifested the inward harmony of which her beauty was but the external robe.
They had been engaged of their own accord, with her father’s consent, and it had been arranged that the wedding should take place on the day Hubert won his epaulettes. He had won them in good time, when he was only twenty-seven; but then a fresh delay had intervened to postpone the union which both so much desired.
Pierre de Keralio was not a sailor, but he had been sufficiently on the sea to have no fear of it. More than this he had contracted a love for it, and at an age when most men retire from work he had conceived the idea of devoting a part of his immense fortune to the service of science. Patriotism had given to this noble thought a character of touching grandeur, and one day, he had said in a loud voice before an audience of friends invited to the betrothal of Hubert and Isabelle,—
“When my daughter is married, I will put into execution a grand scheme I have been thinking of for many years. I will go to the Pole. It shall not be said that Nares and Stephenson, and Aldrich, and Markham, that is to say Saxons, in 1876; that Greely, and Lockwood, and Brainard, Americans, that is to say other Saxons, in 1882 went beyond the 83rd parallel, without its also being said the French have beaten them.”
There was an exclamation from Isabelle.
“When I am married! Well! Our friends may blame my agreeing with you, but it shall never be said that Isabelle de Keralio did not have her share in such glory. I know Hubert’s heart well enough to know that he will give me permission to follow my father to the top of the world.”
Some of the friends applauded; the majority of them objected.
“My daughter!” said De Keralio, endeavouring to get in a word.
Isabelle would not allow him to finish. Throwing her arms around his neck with irresistible tenderness, she replied,—
“Hush, father! Not a word more! It is agreed. You have educated me in such a way that I am not a spoilt boy. I will go to the North Pole. And then you know, father, I shall not have disobeyed you, for you have just betrothed me to Hubert, and his authority over me now is as much as yours was. Now let us talk of the expedition.”
Then De Keralio said to Hubert,—
“To you, my future son-in-law, I must appeal. Will you be good enough to teach this unreasonable young person a little reason?”
Hubert, being thus cornered, arose.
“My dear father,” he replied, “for I can so call you, I will try and dissuade your daughter from a scheme so full of danger. I will endeavour to show her why such a resolve is so difficult of accomplishment for a woman. But if she refuses to yield to your opinion and to mine, and persists in a decision which, brave as it may be, ought to yield to more prudent considerations, I will ask you to let me share in the danger. Where Isabelle de Keralio goes, Hubert. D’Ermont, her betrothed and future husband, ought to go.”
De Keralio had no more to say.
As to the company, extravagant as the hypothesis mi^ht appear, they knew that those who had just spoken were quite capable of realizing it. And they contented themselves with wishing success to the future expedition.
It was thus that this idea of a campaign at the North Pole arose. But once it had been agreed upon, the plan had to be thought out.
At the outset De Keralio had obtained the necessary leave for Hubert. Then he had called in his old friend Bernard Lacrosse, an old officer of the French Navy, whose moderate fortune had compelled him to abandon the service of the State for the command of a transatlantic steamer. After five years of this new life Captain Lacrosse had taken part as a volunteer in a Russian expedition to the North Pole by way of Nova Zembla. When he was forty-two he had started for the Antarctic, as mate of a French ship. He had only just returned when a letter from Keralio claimed him in the name of friendship and science, .and he hastened to comply with it.
In company with Keralio and Hubert he had chosen the crew of the Polar Star, such being the vessel’s destined name.
They were all good fellows, these navigators to the Pole, for one knows to how great an extent gaiety and good spirits are indispensable among those who go on such adventures. The three initiators of the campaign chose the staff with scrupulous discernment, beginning with the officers and the doctors; and hardly any but cheery faces could be found on the muster roll,
The principal officers were as follows:—
Chief of the Expedition.—Pierre de Keralio, aged 50.
Captain of the Polar Star,—Bernard Lacrosse, naval lieutenant, aged 48.
Lieutenants.—Paul Hardy, aged 28; Louis Pol, aged 27, passed midshipmen resigned. Jean Remois, master mariner, formerly passed midshipman of reserve, aged 34.
Surgeons.—Andre Servan, aged 40; Assistant—Felix Le Sieur, aged 48.
Chief Engineer.—Albert Mohizan, aged 30. Chemist and Naturalist.—Hermann Schnecker, aged 36.
To this list of officers we must add Lieutenant Hubert D’Ermont, engaged to Isabelle de Keralio, who held his place on board by virtue of unlimited leave from headquarters.
All of them had been in the navy, and everyone represented a considerable amount of knowledge, experience and energy. The sailors were of similar character and capacity. By a sort of national egotism De Keralio had chosen only Bretons or Canadians, that is to say compatriots of both his countries.
Then they had proceeded to fit out the ship. The Polar Star had not yet been afloat. She was in a shipyard at Cherbourg, begun by a builder whom bankruptcy had prevented from launching her. She was a steamer of 8oo tons, rigged as a barque. Bernard Lacrosse, who had visited all the French ports in the course of two months, had been fortunate enough to find her in her cradle. He had immediately bought her for De Keralio, and resumed work on her with a view to specially fitting her for her work in the icy seas. The ship had two compound triple expansion engines of 500 horse power. She had three decks and was coated with teak wood, between which and the hull was a space of about nine inches filled with oakum and palm fibre. Keel, carlines, stem and sternpost were of steel covered with a sort of copper sheathing.
Copper had been employed with the intention of giving more elasticity to the hull. It was used in all the beams and Joints in order that great pressures could be borne without breakage. A longitudinal bulkhead made her all the stronger. The thickness of the teak planking varied from nine inches amidships, to five forward and four aft. The entire hull was in water-tight compartments. Besides the fibre packing between the two skins, the sides of the ship and the walls of the compartments had been ornamented with thin layers of compressed felt, to prevent the loss of heat and the penetration of damp. To save the rudder from the pressure of the ice, long beams covered with copper had been rigged put, forming davits, by the aid of which it would be possible to unship it and hoist it on deck.
The curved prow ended in a ram of steel, ten feet in length. Forward were steam windlasses, and the Pinkey and Collins apparatus used by whalers to save them from having- to go aloft to reef the sails in bad weather. Sheet iron elbow pipes above the waste valves allowed of the steam being turned on the neighbouring ice, within a radius of sixteen feet on each side of the hull.
The armament had been as carefully looked after. Besides the two 10-centimetre guns on deck, the Polar Star possessed two Hotchkiss revolving guns, four harpoon guns, two buoy guns. There were three whaleboats, five ice boats entirely sheathed with copper, the keels of which could be fitted with either runners or axles. And finally under a protecting tarpaulin aft, sheltered the mysterious submarine boat on which De Keralio had just been congratulating Hubert D’Ermont.
The conversation interrupted for a moment by Isabelle’s arrival, became more animated than ever between the three.
“My dear cousin,” said the girl, returning to what they were all thinking about. “I say that now is a favourable opportunity for putting your discovery to the proof.”
The lieutenant gaily replied,—
“Is it only curiosity, Isabelle, which makes you speak like that, or am I to infer that you have a certain feeling of interest in what has been done by my brother and myself?”
Isabelle frowned, but the passing irritation almost immediately gave place to her usual playfulness,, as she replied with her sweetest smile,—
“Can you doubt for a moment, Hubert? Do you think me such a stranger to scientific matters? Of course my affection for the author, or rather for the authors, of an invention which, owing to the faith I have in them, I hold to be admirable, is not free from a certain amount of fear. But to be frank, I am prepared to confess that in all this, I am chiefly thinking of the practical results of our expedition and that I am all the more attached to you because I know that you are the bearer of an invention which we can call the panacea for mis-reckonings in attempted discovery.”
A vaguely sceptical smile rested for a moment on the girl’s lips.
Hubert was not yet of an age when impatience is mastered in a moment. This smiling banter might have driven him into exceeding the limits he had imposed upon himself; but strong as was the temptation to give the girl the irrefutable proof of his merits, he remembered just in time that he had no right to do this before a day and hour fixed in advance.
But if he had no right to do this he could at least defend himself by means of favourable appearances. He rose from his chair and, holding out his hand to his cousin, said,—
“If it pleases you to come down to my cabin with my uncle, I can show you, if not the discovery at work, at least the instruments on which it is based.”
Isabelle rose laughing.
“Ho! ho! Hubert, you seem to take matters more seriously than I intended. Let me tell you my doubts are only on the surface, and that I have the greatest confidence in your wisdom united to that of your dear Marc.”
“Of course,” said De Keralio with a laugh; “but you seem rather to belong to the school of St. Thomas Didymus, who believed nothing until he had seen it. Well, Hubert, as you proposed it, let us go and see.”
The three moved towards the hatchway. As they were about to descend the iron ladder they were met by Captain Lacrosse.
“Hallo, Bernard,” said De Keralio, “you will not be sorry to see with us the treasures of science stored in the cabin of my future sonin-law.”
And passing his arm into Lacrosse’s, he led him off behind the young people.
The Polar Star had been fitted up below like a pleasure yacht. The gangway, the saloon, the dining-room, the smoking-room were decorated in mahogany, along which ran a well-stuffed rail. The officers’ cabins opened on the gangway’, around the saloon were those of De Keralio and his daughter, and Captain Lacrosse and Hubert D’Ermont.
It was the last which the four visitors entered.
It was furnished with extreme simplicity, every corner being utilized with consummate art. The bed in one of the angles rested on a chest of drawers. The washbasin was pivoted in a niche, so that it could be turned up and form a desk. In the opposite corner was a strong steel safe, thick enough to defy any attempt to force it, a combination of ciphers further assuring its impenetrability. Hubert pointed to seats for his companions.
“Uncle,” he began, “although I am your guest, I am here at home, with your consent, be it understood. It is for me to do the honours of my apartment, and to my dear cousin I pay the first homage.”
He took a bunch of keys from the desk, and handing it to the girl,, said,—
“Will you place that key in. the lock of this strongbox?”
At the same time, with singular quickness, he combined the figures that lay under the steel knobs on the door.
Isabelle had but to turn the key. The sharp click of six bolts withdrawn together, accompanied by the sound of a spring snapping, preceded the opening of the door, and the interior of the safe appeared arranged in symmetrical pigeon-holes.
“Behold the treasure!” said Hubert, with a gesture of comic declamation.
“Let us look at the contents i “remarked De Keralio.
Hubert bent over and withdrew from one of the pigeonholes a few objects of simple form, which at first glance revealed nothing in particular.
These were cylinders of steel, whose weight was relatively heavy. They measured about a foot in diameter, and ended in a narrow neck fitted with a double screw stopper, as if they were gas reservoirs.
Bernard Lacrosse here put in a word.
“We do not want to be so very clever to see that those cylinders contain something. Are we allowed to ask what?”
Hubert placed his finger to his lips.
“Not before the time. Yes, you understand, these cylinders contain something. I can only tell you what that is when we are in such a position that no ill-will can hurt us. Know only that these cylinders contain the secret of our approaching victory; heat, force, light, movement. With them, thanks to them, we shall know no obstacles. These are the things which will take us to the Pole.”
The hearers of this little speech remained open-mouthed for a moment before him.
“By Jove!” said Lacrosse, “if it is as you say, D’Ermont, that must be a secret well worth keeping.”
Isabelle’s face had become thoughtful.
“To what ill-will do you allude, Hubert?”
The young man would probably have replied had not the cabin door been suddenly burst open to give entrance to a magnificent Newfoundland dog, who went and put his intelligent head on Isabelle’s knees.
“Good morning, Salvator!” said she, gaily, as she caressed the superb animal.
Hubert appeared vexed.
“We left the door open, then?” said he, quickly.
He put back the steel cylinder into the safe and hurriedly shut the door.
Through the cabin doorway came a whiff of tobacco smoke. Hubert rushed into the saloon and saw a tall figure with red hair disappearing down the gangway. “Mr. Schnecker was there,” he said, with a frown, as he entered the cabin.
“Our chemist?” asked Isabelle.
“Yes our chemist; and I don’t particularly take to our chemist,” added Hubert.
“Oh Hubert, what makes you say that?”
“I say what I think,” said the young officer. “Besides cousin, would you like to examine an impartial witness?”
Before she could reply, and while she was thinking in surprise, Hubert took the dog’s head in his hand and looked into his eyes.
“Salvator, is your friend Mr. Schnecker?” Salvator showed all his teeth, and a deep growl of anger rolled within his depths.