"It's far too large for a tent, Dacres," said Whittinghame. "But we may as well investigate. To me it looks like a——yes, by George, it is! It's a derelict balloon."
"André!" exclaimed Baskett.
"I think you are right," said Whittinghame.
"Yes, it has been a balloon. There is the car, half-buried in snow. Evidently in strong winds the snow-drifts are uncovered, or otherwise in twenty years the remains would be buried fathoms deep."
"Are you going to investigate, sir?" asked Dr. Hambrough.
"Much as I should like to," replied Whittinghame gravely, "I must decline. The claims of those who may yet be living are more pressing than those of the gallant dead. Perhaps, another time——"
He broke off abruptly to conceal his emotion, then having steadied the "Meteor" on her course, he relinquished the navigation into the hands of his able assistants.
For a long time no word was spoken. The memories of that mournful wreck deeply affected the spirits of the intrepid rescuers. They felt the irony of the situation, for had the gallant Frenchman delayed his ill-fated aerial voyage but a few years he might have been able to have made good use of a dirigible instead of drifting helplessly to his doom amid the awful solitudes of the Arctic.
Zig-zagging against the wind after the manner of a sailing-ship tacking, the "Meteor" resumed her quest. Two hours passed without result. The airship was now almost within sight of the newly-opened sea caused by the breaking up of the ice-floes.
The crew were almost despairing of success, for twice the supposed route of Cardyke's party had been examined. The Lieutenant and his men had left the Pole: they could not cross the barrier formed by the open sea. Where had they gone? Had they been buried beneath an almost irresistible blizzard? To add to the difficulties of the look-out, the sun was shining almost into the men's eyes, while an enormous tract of snow was covered by the reflected glare.