“It’s too bad. I wish I could help you,” answered Andy, and that was all he could say.
With their broken sledges and their small dog teams, the party moved slowly forward, to where the Ice King had been left along the coast. They did not expect to find the vessel fast in the ice, but hoped that Captain Williamson would be cruising near, on the lookout for them.
“When we get to the coast, if the vessel is not in sight, we’ll fire some signals,” said Barwell Dawson. “The captain will be sure to answer them.”
Two days more passed, and they came to something of an open bay, dotted here and there with floating ice. At the sight, the boys set up a cheer:
“The sea! The sea!”
It was indeed the sea—or, rather, the upper entrance to Smith Sound. The party had traveled too far to the eastward, and had now to turn southward, skirting the coast. Here the going was very rough, and the very next morning one of the sledges went down in a crack of the ice, and was smashed completely.
“Thank goodness we do not need it any longer,” was Barwell Dawson’s comment. What stores the sledge had contained were hauled up from the crack and loaded on the remaining turnouts.
Another day passed, and now all kept on the lookout for a sign of the ship. But though they climbed to the top of a high hill, skirting the coast, no sign of a vessel was to be seen anywhere.
Again they resumed their journey, and thus two days passed. Then Andy, who was in the lead with Olalola, set up a cry:
“I see the hut and the storehouse!”