His words had little or no effect upon the passengers, for those of the Russians who were not rendered unconscious were shouting as hard as they could. They were in a state of panic, fully expecting either to be crushed by the enormous mass of ice or else to be trapped like rats in the cabin of the foundering sleigh.
John Ranworth might have risen to the occasion and restored order, but he was lying stunned on the floor. His brother was in a similar plight, while Guy, pinned down by the body of a huge Russian, was incapable of moving hand or foot.
The panic, brought about by a fearful climax to a series of nerve-racking ordeals, was quickly over, and the rescued men began to sort themselves out from the tangled mass of humanity on the floor. Thanks to her design and build, the Bird of Freedom had come off lightly. Beyond a hole in the curved roof, caused by violent contact with a spur of sharp ice, there was no great damage. Everything not firmly secured had been thrown about in utter confusion, while most of the stores and navigating instruments were lying in the water which flooded the floor.
"All right, Guy?" sang out his chum.
"All right," was the reassuring reply.
"Then stand by with the steering-wheel," continued Leslie. "The sooner we get alongside the Polarity the better. There's plenty of work for the ship's surgeon, I guess."
At the first attempt to start the motors, there was a vivid flash, accompanied by a sharp report. The wet had caused one of the high-tension wires to fuse, and this had thrown the whole of the intricate machinery out of order.
"She'll drift all right," declared Guy. "The wind's right down the channel."
"Yes, broadside on," added his chum. "We can't steer her, and she'll be drawn ashore at the next bend."
"We'll get her under control yet," said Guy, whose nautical knowledge was far greater than that of his chum. "Make all hands come aft. That will raise her snout out of the water, and the wind will blow her round."