In twos and threes the crew of the Neptune hurried toward the Goliath. A twilight had settled over the scene and the lights from the cabin windows of the Goliath shone strangely through the dusk of the coming storm.
Serge and a crew from the Goliath brought the two men from the Neptune who were ill aboard. Some of them carried a few personal possessions. Most of them had only the clothes they wore but they were thankful to have even those.
The last hours aboard the Neptune had been hours of terror with the constant danger of the ice breaking up and dropping them into the depths of the Arctic. With rescue at hand, some of them were almost hysterical with joy. Mathews spoke to Andy.
“I know the Arctic,” he said. “Get out of here as soon as you can. This storm is going to be terrific. As soon as the last man is aboard, take off.”
Every motor was running smoothly and easily.
“Stand by for a quick take off and a run before the storm,” he warned the engineers. “Our lives will depend on you. We’ve got to make time.”
Back in one of the cabins the postal clerks were busy cancelling the letters which had been the only pay cargo aboard the Goliath on the polar trip. They were obvious to the dangers of the coming storm and Andy envied them their lack of worry.
“Everybody on,” reported Serge. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go,” echoed Andy and the command was flashed back to the engine rooms. The Goliath quivered to the pulsation of the powerful motors. To save time, the steel cables with the grapnels were dropped on the ice and the Goliath shook its nose at the gathering storm as it roared aloft.
The take-off had not come a moment too soon. The Goliath had barely turned around and headed south, when the blizzard struck in all its fury. A dry, biting snow enveloped the dirigible and the lights from the cabin windows made only faint glows in the sea of swirling white.