Forward they pushed rapidly.
When twenty yards from the ship Jack Wallis paused with an awful cry of terror.
“Look!” he shrieked.
There about the ship’s gangway the snow had been fearfully trampled and it was a crimson color. Blood was the cause of this.
And upon the sides of the ship, upon the ladder and the rail all was blood. Over the rail Jack Wallis went.
And there upon the ship’s deck he saw the rigid figure of a man frightfully mutilated and frozen stiff in the bitter air.
CHAPTER III.
THE AIRSHIP TO THE RESCUE.
“Dead!” he exclaimed, in hollow tones. “It is Martin Jones, foretopman. He has been murdered!”
Captain Hardy reeled toward the cabin door. His face was chalky white.
“Lucille!” he gasped.