Lost in the land of ice

“We will go to the bottom sure!”

So said more than one person on the Arrow the next day.

The storm lasted for thirty-six hours, yet the steam yacht held her own and, though much battered, did not spring even a small leak.

It was the last of the foul weather for many days. To be sure they encountered dense fogs around Graham’s Land and Alexander’s Land, but not so bad as those met with on the journey to the South Pole.

All on board of the gallant ship were in the best of spirits. And they had good cause to be, for Barry and the Baxters had promised to each a fair share of the golden treasure.

At last, after many weeks of fair and foul sailing, the Arrow reached the vicinity of Cape Horn.

It was a perfect day, and the steam yacht stood steadily for Tierra del Fuego.

Barry and Bob could not help but think of Captain Fenlick and Basker, as well as of the negro and the Spaniard who had been put ashore.

“They must be dead,” said Bob. “The natives would eat them up at the first chance.”

But Bob was mistaken.

None of the party was dead.

They had come together at one of the native villages, and here Captain Fenlick had met a Patagonian pirate who commanded a vessel which preyed upon ships going around Cape Horn.

The Cape Horn pirates are among the worst in the world.

To this pirate, Zekra by name, Fenlick told his tale, and he enlisted Zekra in a scheme to watch for the possible return of the Arrow with the golden treasure.

The pirate’s ship was named the Skull, and Captain Zekra took Fenlick, Basker, and the others on board with him.

Day after day the pirate watched for the Arrow, and in the mean time captured a small schooner which was in the coast trade.

At last the Arrow came in sight of the Skull.

“What a strange-looking craft!” said Barry, who was viewing the other ship through his glass.

“I’ll wager she is a pirate!” cried Captain Gordon. “I think we had better run away from her.”

But the Skull had up a flag of distress, and Barry was unwilling to leave a stranger if in trouble.

But no sooner had the steam yacht come close to the Skull, than the latter opened fire with a four-pounder, sending a ball through the deck-house.

“We’ll fix you for that!” cried Captain Gordon, in a rage, and ordered the yacht’s swivel to be loaded.

“Surrender!” came from the pirates’ ship, and Barry, looking through the glass, recognized Captain Fenlick, Basker, the Spaniard, and the negro.

He quickly told his friends of his discovery, and ordered Captain Gordon to show the Skull no mercy.

Bang! went the swivel gun, and a shot swept the deck of the pirate ship.

Captain Zekra tried his best to put a shot into the Arrow’s hull, but the steam yacht was too swift in her movements for him.

All on the yacht armed themselves, and fired on the pirates at every available opportunity.

Soon Captain Fenlick was laid low, and the negro followed.

Then a shot from the Skull tore through the Arrow’s stern.

But it was her last, for the next shot from the Arrow took the pirate craft fairly and squarely in the side, just below the water line, and slowly but surely she began to sink.

Many of the men jumped overboard and tried to swim in one direction or another.

But they could not save themselves, and in the end everybody who had been on the Skull was drowned, and the ship went down with them.

It was a fitting end to such wretches as Captain Fenlick, Basker, and their bloodthirsty companions.

“We are well rid of them,” said Bob, after the fight was over. “I never want any such enemies again.”

“Nor I,” answered Barry. “They were a decidedly bad crowd.”

Day after day passed, and one bright morning the Arrow dropped anchor in the harbor of Rio de Janeiro.

The steam yacht remained here for two weeks, getting on a new supply of provisions and coal and undergoing a thorough overhauling.

Everybody on the craft was cautioned not to say anything about the treasure on board, for fear some plot might be hatched out to steal the millions in gold.

From Rio de Janeiro the Arrow set a course for Santiago de Cuba, and this part of the trip passed without special incident. From this port the course was straight for New York.

Off Cape Hatteras another storm was encountered, and for several hours all on board feared they and their gold would go to the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Wouldn’t it be awful if we should go down,” said Bob, “now we are so near home?”

“We must take what comes,” answered Barry, gravely.

But Captain Gordon was a thorough seaman and knew what he was doing, and in the end the Arrow came out of the storm with scarcely a scratch.

Then the run was straight to New York, and late one afternoon the Arrow entered the Narrows and dropped anchor some distance from the Statue of Liberty in the bay.

“Home at last!” cried Bob. “And my father is found!”

“And the treasure is ours!” added Barry. “But no more of the South Pole for me.”

“Nor for me,” returned Bob. “I have had adventures enough to last me a lifetime.”

Here I must bring our story to a close. Several years have passed since the events just narrated.

Bob Baxter is now at Yale College, having elected to become a lawyer. Barry Filmore has also taken up the law, and in time the two chums expect to become partners in that profession.

The golden treasure was fairly divided among those who lived to tell of the wonderful expedition to the South Pole, and, as a consequence, each of the party became very wealthy.

Amos Baxter is now an old man and spends his leisure hours in scientific research. He has written a book upon the South Pole, and another upon Polar Electricity and Magnetism, and these works have made him known far and wide.

As a result of the Arrow’s wonderful voyage to the South Pole, several other expeditions have gone off in the same direction, but so far none of them has been able to get past the fogs and mists and the immense icebergs of the Land of Desolation.

“How we ever got through is a mystery to me,” says old Captain Gordon, now retired. “I can’t understand it at all.”

“I think I can explain it,” said Barry, with a faint smile. “You know how the magnet always points to the Pole?”

“Yes.”

“There is a magnetism between the Pole and the magnet.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, blood is thicker than water, and Bob’s father was at the Pole, or very close to it. Bob was attracted to his father by the personal magnetism of his parent. That’s the only way I can explain it.”

At this most of the others laughed. But Bob did not laugh.

“Father,” he said, “Barry must be right. I always had a yearning to find you and I wasn’t satisfied until I reached your side.”

“And I looked for you, my son,” said Mr. Baxter, “I looked for you, day after day, as I stood upon the lonely, forsaken deck of the Black Eagle. I told myself you must come to me, and you did come. Yes, your friend Barry is right, Heaven bless him!”

It may be added, that after Bob returned to New York, and it was learned that he was wealthy, no more was said about the warehouse fire and the charge of incendiarism which had been lodged against him. The whole Jasper Powell matter was speedily cleared up, and that was the end of it.

And here we will ring down the curtain and bid friends and readers alike adieu.

THE END