When Williamson returned with the instruments the two officers made careful separate observations, afterwards checking each other's figures. There was no mistake. The rescue party was standing on the northern extremity of the Earth's axis.
"Well, this won't find Cardyke, gentlemen," said Whittinghame sharply, breaking in upon the reveries of his companions. "What do you propose to do? Return by a slightly different route?"
"Supposing Cardyke and his party are incapable of finding their way. They might be partially exhausted by their exertions and have blundered in a totally different direction," suggested Baskett.
"Such an instance is not unknown," added Quinton.
"Then I propose to make several ever-widening circles. We ought to command a field extending twenty-five miles from the Pole. Let us return to the 'Meteor.'"
Rising to a height of five hundred feet the airship began to circle. In five minutes she had passed through every one of the three hundred and sixty degrees of longitude.
Miles of dreary waste lay beneath them. There was nothing to mark the position of the North Pole save the almost invisible hut and two flags, and nothing to break the horizon where the white plain merged into the pale blue of the Arctic sky.
Presently Dacres discovered signs of open water. A broad sea, its coast-line extending through a hundred and eighty degrees of longitude, proved conclusively that Cardyke could not have blundered far in that direction. It was fairly evident the five men had retraced their steps. The question that puzzled Whittinghame was, how could the "Meteor" have missed the party on its flight to the Pole?
"We'll make our way back," he announced. "By keeping a zig-zag course we ought to come across some traces of them. Fifteen miles to the right and left of their supposed route ought to be ample."
To this the two naval officers agreed; but as the vertical rudders were being put hard over, Dacres called the Captain's attention to a dark object in a hollow at less than two miles off.