"Keep her at it as long as she carries way. The ice may be fairly thin, and there's every likelihood of its breaking up. If we can't force a passage that way, we'll have to blow up the ice and form a channel. Ten to one the pack isn't very broad."
"But if it extends for miles?" asked Ranworth.
"We'll have to anchor the ship in the ice and make a start with the sleigh, sir. By the time the expedition is ready to return, the ice may have broken up."
"That seems the only way," agreed the leader of the expedition. "I'll warn Hawke to get the sleigh ready for action."
Upon nearing the pack, the Polarity stopped her engines. One of the canvas boats was manned and lowered, and rowed towards the edge of the ice. On returning, the officer in charge reported that the ice was "rotten," and capable of being broken by the impact of the ship's bows.
Gathering way, the staunch vessel charged the glacial barrier. Right and left, as her steel-protected bow sheared through the obstruction, fragments of ice cracked and flew in glittering showers.
For nearly a mile the Polarity forced her way, then, with unpleasant suddenness, she came to a standstill.
"The hummocks are too much for her," declared Captain Stormleigh, and, hailing the crow's nest, he asked for a report of the ice-field ahead.
"Same as it is here for a couple of miles or so, sir," replied the look-out man. "But there's open water beyond."
Calling to Travers, the captain ordered him to take a couple of reliable men and fetch some dynamite cartridges from the magazine. The rest of the crew were told off to provide themselves with axes, crowbars, and augers, in order to cut holes in the ice for the reception of the explosives.