CHAPTER X
TO THE TREASURE CITY
Once all the members of the submarine party were reunited, their one thought was to repair their damaged craft as soon as possible and start again on their way to the Pole. Perhaps the engineer wasted a thought now and again on the supposed great mineral wealth of that peninsula, but if he did, he said nothing.
The men were divided into three groups. The first, the mechanics, undertook the task of removing the shaft; the second guarded the craft against possible attack by the natives, while the third was dispatched up the beach to search for firewood which the mechanics must have.
The work of the guard seemed a joke. Not one of the natives could be induced to approach the dark "spirit-whale" which some of their comrades had seen rise from the water. Even after the steel shaft had been brought ashore as tangible evidence that the craft was a thing of metal, they could not be induced to approach it.
The wood hunters found their task a hard one, for, either there never had been much driftwood on these shores, or the natives had used it for summer camp-fires. They searched far down the bay without finding a sufficient quantity to make "a decent fire over which to roast 'hot-dogs'," as Rainey expressed it.
But as the engineer rounded a point, he suddenly exclaimed;
"There! Ain't h'I been sayin' hit! I 'ates to think 'ow jolly stupit som'ums of ye are."
He was pointing to the banks which overhung the sea. The men, who were looking only for driftwood, did not at first see the cause of his exclamation.
"Coal, my lads!" Jarvis exclaimed, half beside himself. "Coal cropping from the bank!"