The Boy Aviators' Polar Dash Part 21

Frank lost no time in opening the trap-door in the floor of the main cabin, which led into what had formerly been the "valuables room" of the Southern Cross, but which had been fitted up now as a laboratory for the professor.

"There's a light burning in it," announced Frank, as he peered down.

"Oh, professor--Professor Sandburr, are you there?" he shouted the next moment.

"What is it? Is the s.h.i.+p going down?" came back from the depths in the voice of the professor. He seemed as calm as if it was a summer's day.

"No, but she is having a terrible fight with the waves," replied the boy.

"She has broken loose from the towing s.h.i.+p. The cable has snapped!"

added Harry.

"Is that so?" asked the professor calmly. "Will you boys come down here for a minute? I want to see you."

Wondering what their eccentric friend could possibly wish in the way of conversation at such a time, the boys, not without some difficulty, clambered down the narrow ladder leading into the professor's den.

They found him balancing himself on his long legs and trying to secure his bottles and jars, every one of which held some queer creature preserved in alcohol. The boys aided him in adjusting emergency racks arranged for such a purpose, but not before several bottles had broken and several strange-looking snakes and water animals, emitting a most evil smell, had fallen on the floor. These the professor carefully gathered up, though it was hard work to stand on the plunging floor, and placed in new receptacles. He seemed to place great value on them.

"So," he said finally, "you think the s.h.i.+p may go down?"

"We hope for the best, but anything may happen," rejoined Frank; "we are in a serious position. Practically helpless, we may drift into a berg at any moment."

"In that case we would sink?"

"Almost to a certainty."

"Then I want you to do something for me. Will you?"

The boys, wondering greatly what could be coming next, agreed readily to the old scientist's wish. Thereupon he drew out three slips of paper. He handed one to each of the boys.

"I wrote these out when I first thought there was danger of our sinking," he said.

The boys looked at the writing on their slips. They were all the same, and on each was inscribed:

"The man who told me that the Patagonians were a friendly race is a traitor to science. I, Professor Simeon Sandburr, brand him a teller of untruths. For Professor Thomas Tapper, who told me about the fur-bearing pollywog of the South Polar seas, I have the warmest respect. I leave all my books, bottled fishes and reptiles to the Smithsonian Inst.i.tute. My servant, James, may have my stuffed Wogoliensuarious. My sister is to have my entire personal and real estate. This is my last will and testament.

"Simeon Sandburr.

"M.A.-F.R.G.S.-M.R.H.S.-Etc., etc."

"What are we to do with these papers?" asked Frank, hardly able, even in the serious situation in which they then were, to keep from laughing.

"One of you boys may escape, even if the s.h.i.+p does go down," said the professor, gravely: "If any of us should get back to civilization I want the world to know that the Patagonians are not a friendly race, and that I died hoping to capture the fur-bearing pollywog of the South Polar seas."

At this moment a sudden shock hurled them headlong against the gla.s.s-filled shelves, smas.h.i.+ng several bottles and releasing the slimy, finny contents, and sending them all in a heap on the floor.

"We have struck something!" cried Frank.

"Something terrible has happened!" shouted Harry and Billy.

"We are sinking, boys," yelled the professor; "don't forget my last will and testament."

CHAPTER XVII.

THE GREAT BARRIER.

To rush on deck was the work of a few moments. If it was a scene of confusion the boys had left, the sight that now met their eyes was far more turbulent.

"The boats! the boats! We are sinking!"

"We are going down!"

"The iceberg has sunk us!"

These and a hundred other cries of terror filled the air, for the wind seemed to have died down, though the sea still ran high, and sounds were now more audible. Off to the starboard side of the s.h.i.+p the boys perceived a mighty towering form, which they knew must be the iceberg they had encountered. The crew fought madly for the boats.

Suddenly a sharp voice rang out:

"I'll shoot the first man that lays a hand on the boats!"

It was Captain Barrington. He stood on the stern deck steadying himself against the rail. In his hands gleamed two revolvers. Beside him stood Captain Hazzard, a look of stern determination on his face.

Ben Stubbs and several other seamen, who had not lost their heads, were grouped behind them prepared to quell any onslaught on the boats.

The members of the crew, who had become panic-stricken when the helpless s.h.i.+p encountered the iceberg, paused and looked shamefaced.

"We've a right to save our lives," they muttered angrily.

"And prove yourselves cowards," exclaimed Captain Barrington. "You ought to be ashamed to bear the names of American seamen! Get forward, all of you, and let me see no more of this."

The stern voice of their commander and his evident command of himself rea.s.sured the panic-stricken crew and they withdrew to the forecastle.

Their shame was the more keen when it was found that, while the Southern Cross had been severely b.u.mped by the iceberg, her stout timbers had sustained no damage.

By daybreak the sea had calmed down somewhat, and the wind had still further moderated. But the danger was by no means over till they could get in communication with the Brutus. Frank was set to work on the wireless and soon "raised" the towing s.h.i.+p, the captain of which was delighted to hear of his consort's safety. The position of the Southern Cross being ascertained, her bearings were wirelessed to the Brutus, and she then cast anchor to await the arrival of the towing s.h.i.+p.

As the line was once more made fast, having been spliced till it was as strong as new, the professor came up to the boys. He looked rather sheepish.

"Would you mind giving me back those papers I gave you last night," he said.

"You mean the last will and testament?" Frank could not help saying.

"That's it. I have changed my mind. I will show up that Patagonian fellow in a book."

The professor, as he received the little slips of paper, scattered them into tiny bits and threw them overboard.

"You are quite sure you have not been fooled also on the fur-bearing pollywog?" asked Frank.