CHAPTER XIX
THE DESERT OF ICE
The portion of the great iceberg that was visible consisted of a good many square miles of hills and valleys of ice, with the two more important eminences standing close together near the middle of the vast field.
It was so huge that its movement (and bergs are always in motion) could not be observed at all. It seemed as immovable as the island of Iceland itself, yet Captain Olaf Karofsen was positive that it had drifted a good many miles southward during the two weeks since his schooner had been wrecked on one of the outer reefs of the berg.
As the Winged Arrow swooped lower, and Tom Swift drove it around the entire outer edge of the iceberg, the schooner captain tried to mark the spot where the Kalrye had struck and sunk and the spot where the lifeboat had been smashed.
There was not a scrap of either wreck to be seen. The changing surface of the ice offered no certain mark of any party of castaways having been upon it. The seaplane circumnavigated the huge berg twice with the same result. The hearts of Tom and Ned failed them. They feared that the disaster had been wholly tragic, after all.
But Captain Karofsen would not give up hope. He pointed out that his five sailors were all seasoned men, used to the Arctic, and of wide experience. First of all, he said, they would have saved the boat, cut it up with the boat axes, and transported it and the provisions to some sheltered place on the berg.
“There be hunderts of caves—yes? Many, many places for to hide and keep varm. Iceland men don’t gif up so easy, Misder Swift.”
It was plain to be seen that there were many valleys and sheltered dens in the middle of the berg into which the crew of the seaplane could not see. The flying boat might pass back and forth over the iceberg a hundred times and not be spied by the castaways if they were thus holed up.
“But we do not even see any smoke,” said Ned. “If they had a fire——”
“They would be careful with their fuel,” interrupted Tom. “We might hang around up here for a couple of days and miss seeing anything of them if they are there——”
“A wise ‘if,’” interrupted Ned.
“Unless they come out to hunt food——”
“Hoh!” cried Ned again. “Dig potatoes, I suppose?”
“Don’t be foolish!” commanded Tom. “There are seals and bears, and Captain Karofsen says that both Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor had rifles.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned. “I did not think of that.”
“So,” concluded Tom firmly, “I am going to descend into that middle valley——”
“Not between those two peaks, Tom?” cried his friend. “That is a bad hole to get out of.”
“I mean the valley just beyond. See! Look close.”
He managed the controls so that the great flying boat headed in between the tall pinnacles of ice. As they rushed into the narrow valley between the greenish-white walls of ice, they found the cleft much deeper than they had at first supposed. There was an unexpected draught through the passage, too.
The Winged Arrow swerved unexpectedly to one side, and her right wing scraped along the ice cliff. The plane was jarred from stem to stern and several cables snapped.
The collision dislodged a huge mass of the ice that came tumbling down, barely missing the tail of the boat and falling with a thunderous crash into the bottom of the gorge.
“You’d better get out of this, Tom!” yelled Ned. “Shoot her up!”
The passage between the ice cliffs was too narrow and crooked, however, for Tom to risk any abrupt ascent. Still rocking from the force of that slam against the ice, the seaplane staggered on, but at reduced speed. The valley was several miles long.
Again and yet again the end of one wing or the other touched the ice. These slight collisions did no particular harm, but they emphasized the fact that Tom could not govern the mechanism as perfectly as he had before.
The balance of the plane was overset. She was likewise sinking. When Tom signaled for a “lift,” Brannigan could not work his levers properly. Like a huge wounded air fowl, the Winged Arrow fluttered lower and lower.
“My goodness, Tom! are we done for?” gasped his chum.
Tom’s face was pale, but he did not lose his self-control. He dared not raise the nose of the flying boat sharply, for if he did and she then took a tail spin she would land upon her propeller and put that out of commission.
The craft continued to descend. Tom waved a disengaged hand toward the right hand window. Ned and the others saw what he wished to call their attention to.
The airtight pontoon at that end of the great wing had been smashed in the collision with the wall of ice and now hung partly disengaged from its proper fastenings. This had so disarranged the balance of the boat that her management was most difficult, especially in this narrow chasm.
Another sharp turn in the valley of ice loomed before them. Below, Tom saw that the bottom of the gorge was comparatively smooth for some distance. If they could make a fair landing, they might be able to repair the pontoon and then rise on even keel again.
He quickly signaled Brannigan, who shut down the motors. The roar of them ceased almost at once. The great flying boat sank to rest in the heart of the giant iceberg.