Andy’s keen eyes were the first in the control room to sight the marooned crew of the Neptune. Behind them he saw the great ridge of ice in which the Neptune had been caught. The dark nose of the undersea craft was still in sight but the ice was heaving and churning under the pressure of the moving ice pack.
Fissures in the ice were widening and the wind swooped out of the north with an ominous roar. Flurries of snow swept past them. The temperature was dropping fast. The rescue must be a matter of minutes or the Arctic might claim the Goliath as well as the Neptune.
“You’re better at a landing than I am,” Serge told Andy. “Take over.”
Andy stepped into the place of command and under his skillful hands the Goliath slid down toward the crew of the Neptune. Steel cables, with heavy grapnels, had been rigged especially for a landing on the ice. When Andy gave the order to shut off the engines, the steel hooks were dropped. They caught on the uneven ice and electric winches to which they were fastened rapidly drew the Goliath down until the main gondola rested just above the ice pack.
Harry was the first to reach the gondola where he was greeted enthusiastically by Andy, Bert and Serge.
“You’re just in time,” he told them. “The ice is breaking up. That means the end of the Neptune and this blizzard would probably have finished us.”
While Harry was talking, the sound of the coming storm was drowned by a series of splintering crashes. The ice ahead of them heaved and buckled.
Great chunks were hurled into the air. The nose of the Neptune was pushed straight up. For a moment the submarine hung in this position. Then, to the accompaniment of the steady booming of the ice, the sleek, steel hull slid from view. It was gone in ten seconds—devoured by the ever-hungry Arctic.
Gilbert Mathews, who had aged years in the last few days, stumbled across the ice.
“Thank heaven you’ve arrived,” he cried. “We must hurry. The blizzard is almost upon us.”