As Matt Sherry had prophesied, within a few hours they were driving forward through a blinding white fog. But Jack easily kept the boat on her course by the compass bearings worked out before they left the Thespis. Merryweather reported regularly and so far no alarming drop in the temperature of the water, showing the near presence of ice, had occurred.
“We’ll pull through after all,� said Jack to Sherry, who had come forward to see the result of Merryweather’s latest reading.
“Hark! What was that?� cried Merryweather suddenly. He leaned forward listening.
“Sounded like the creak of a ship’s block to me,� exclaimed Matt Sherry, “sound your siren quick, Jack.�
Jack pulled a lever and the compressed air siren let out a long dismal screech. At the same instant, from the out of the white smother, came a shout. They could not determine its direction in the obscurity.
“In the name of heaven, a boat!�
“Where away?� came another voice gruffly out of the fog.
“I dunno. Right under our bow it sounded like——â€�
There was a sudden sharp shout from Sherry.
“Save yourselves. They’re right on us!�