Harry had just started the note when he was startled by a sudden bumping and scraping. The Neptune tilted sharply. Were they headed for the bottom; crushed under the ice pack? The thought shot through Harry’s mind as he roused Bob.
There were cries from the control room. They were going up. They had found an opening in the ice pack.
Three minutes later the main hatch was thrown open and a wave of cool, fresh air swept down into the dank, stinking interior of the submarine.
They were in a small lead between the sheer walls of the ice pack. The Neptune had nosed into it blindly at a time when officers and crews had despaired of their own lives.
As soon as the batteries had been charged sufficiently, Harry tried to send out a call but the wall of static still engulfed the Arctic and his efforts were futile.
“I don’t think I got out more than a hundred miles,” he told Bob, “and there isn’t one chance in a thousand that anyone heard us.”
The Neptune remained securely in the sheltered lead all day on the 30th, crew and officers resting after the strenuous ordeal they had been through. Above them and over the ice pack a high wind raged and toward the close of day there were ominous crackings and rumblings in the ice.
With the exception of one man left in the conning tower, the crew of the Neptune was sound asleep at midnight. Two hours later they were awakened by the alarmed cries of the watch. An eerie rumbling and groaning filled the night. When they tumbled out on deck a terrifying sight greeted them. The walls of the ice pack were closing in. They were trapped in the lead!
The rapid movement of the ice was astounding. Orders cracked from the lips of Gilbert Mathews and Bob Smith. The crew tumbled back into the submarine. The main hatch was slammed and battened down. A crash dive was in order. They were going under the ice again.
Harry dreaded the thought. The last time their margin of safety had been slim; too slim. This time they might not come up.