The heaters were filled and fires started; in a short time the waste pipes were letting off streams of steam. We shoveled a bank nearly twelve feet high, which protected us some from the wind, but it flung the snow upon us faster than we could work, and from steam to shovel we labored for our lives against odds for eight long, weary hours. But the storm spent itself, ceased as suddenly as it came, calmed beneath the freezing temperature that descended. The snow iced, our labor was over and we sought shelter, food and rest.
Saunders advised early departure, and two hours later we started. The Propellier made a rush up the steep embankment; midway she seemed to lose speed, but suddenly cleared the remaining distance at a bound. The dense atmosphere had lifted and plain upon plain of snow with wind-tossed mounds and hills met our vision, and over it all a crescent moon glistened mystically. The search-light flared and with a shrill blast we speeded northward. Midnight we had reached and traveled beyond the altitude scientists claim the earth’s pivot is located. Towards morning a heavy mist fell upon us, a dark, silent, deadly mist, which sent a chill to our bones. I could not shake off the dull feeling of dread that came over me. The Propellier glided smoothly, swiftly onward, taking us farther into this horrible death-land. The fear that tugged at my heart shamed me to silence. I glanced furtively at my three companions, who were unusually still, and whose faces blanched beneath my scrutiny. Then Saxe. suddenly halted the Propellier, and addressed us.
“Boys,” he said, “we have stood by one another, we are not cowards, but life is life, and the Pole be damned! We have penetrated farther north than man ever dared, we do not fear, but—others felt the same way in much lower altitudes and stampeded to civilization with tales of blizzards, blockades, and the impossibility of life beyond a certain degree. There are unknown dangers ahead, and death sometimes is very slow, and to struggle and dare and have it all end in oblivion, I think senseless. The earth’s summit is at 100 degrees. We have entered the mystic circle—just a league to discovery—the Propellier at full speed could dash through in a few minutes. We will suffer—an awful experience—a terrible risk; and, as I said before, boys, life is life. I call the expedition off; we will return.”
He glanced wistfully at me, but I avoided his eyes. The passion for the myth had for the time evaporated. After all, life is worth the living, the world is full of beauty and harmony if we choose to see it. I fully realized the hazardous undertaking I had ventured upon, and—God in heaven!—I may never return.
Saxe. was turning back through anxiety for his friends; were he alone he would crush the dread he imagined upon him and push ahead. He forgot the fanaticism of his comrades. Truly they were three of a kind. Saunders sprang forward and caught Saxe.’s arm.
“Correct! correct!” he cried, “we’re not cowards! Why are you turning back? The dread upon us is the dread of nature, the all-pervading fear of first venture, which the will overcomes or we’d still be apes. Determination invites progress, fear checks it; all dread the Unknown. Now, up to 98 or 100 degrees I can state positively what we’ll encounter. We’ve completely traversed the frozen polar sea, from now on it’s surface ice and melting snow slushing over brown rocks or earth. At 100 degrees we view the most uncanny scenery man ever gazed upon. Great mountains and steep, smooth cliffs, of petrification; deep, gloomy, barren valleys, horrible in stillness; and lightening up this dead, petrified portion of the globe, is the star, the star I will brave death to see. The foe we have to conquer is atmosphere, science may help, but there is no atmosphere. In advancing we flirt with Death, who’ll welcome us with dreadful grandeur, but a bold flirtation does not always end disastrously; we can view the all-mighty magnet, then depart.”
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to him,” interposed Sheldon, “he blunders constantly. If I believed in him I’d favor turning back. For days we’ve argued this matter; he’s merely expressed his views—not facts. I agree with him regarding the petrification of the earth surrounding the Pole, the cold is so intense petrification is natural, but the lack of atmosphere—laughable. From the high altitude undoubtedly we’ll suffer, experiencing palpitation, vertigo, and other inconveniences, including a tantalizing thirst. Then again, boys, nature being freakish, we may experience none of these ills, but enjoy the wild, weird scenery of the earth’s summit. We’ll view the blue Reflection Alps, and drink sparkling, crystal water, from the reservoir of the earth. Onward! Saxe., onward! but—should the Propellier cease to work we’re dead men.”
I listened to the absurd reasoning of my three esteemed friends, realizing I had three fanatics to deal with. Lacking persuasive ability I had to rely upon common sense and plain English to point out the folly of advancing. I had the power to command the expedition off and rose to better emphasize my words, when suddenly the doubts and nervous restlessness calmed in a deep, delicious languor, which overpowered and deadened reason. I made a feeble effort to regain my flying senses, but the soft, warm zephyr, heavy with an unknown, magnetic perfume, drugged my will. In that instant I revelled in dreams, a maze of love ecstasy, my pulse quivered and tingled with delight. I was blind to all danger, prudence vanished before impetuous recklessness and desire. I sank to my seat. “Onward!” I cried hoarsely, with wildly beating heart. “Forward! Saxe., forward!” And I, too, was a fanatic.
CHAPTER VII.
The following day we reached 95 degrees, experiencing no discomfort. I awoke from a nap and found the Propellier at a standstill, my three interesting friends crowded at the window, gazing out with the liveliest curiosity. I joined them and was astonished to see a strange, large plant, resembling a cactus, about five feet high, with greenish, putrid looking veins tracing through dull, brown leaves—a plant growing wild, vigorous, amidst a vast snow plain! I made for the door, so did Sheldon. As the first breath of air struck me it cut through my lungs like a knife, so intense was the cold, but after I suffered no inconvenience; in fact, the atmosphere was exhilarating, though close and thick, a misty twilight. I approached the odd-looking plant, it was icy to the touch, soft and pulpy like liver, with a sticky, moist surface. Saxe., Sheldon and Saunders hurried up, calling the plant various Latin names, to all of which it refused to answer. Then Saxe. took out his knife and cut one of the broad, thick leaves neatly down the middle. A reddish-brown fluid spattered the snow, emitting such a stench that Saxe. dropped that portion he held and the three learned ones bolted for the car.