There was not a scrap of either wreck to be seen. The changing surface of the ice offered no certain mark of any party of castaways having been upon it. The seaplane circumnavigated the huge berg twice with the same result. The hearts of Tom and Ned failed them. They feared that the disaster had been wholly tragic, after all.
But Captain Karofsen would not give up hope. He pointed out that his five sailors were all seasoned men, used to the Arctic, and of wide experience. First of all, he said, they would have saved the boat, cut it up with the boat axes, and transported it and the provisions to some sheltered place on the berg.
“There be hunderts of caves—yes? Many, many places for to hide and keep varm. Iceland men don’t gif up so easy, Misder Swift.”
It was plain to be seen that there were many valleys and sheltered dens in the middle of the berg into which the crew of the seaplane could not see. The flying boat might pass back and forth over the iceberg a hundred times and not be spied by the castaways if they were thus holed up.
“But we do not even see any smoke,” said Ned. “If they had a fire——”
“They would be careful with their fuel,” interrupted Tom. “We might hang around up here for a couple of days and miss seeing anything of them if they are there——”
“A wise ‘if,’” interrupted Ned.
“Unless they come out to hunt food——”
“Hoh!” cried Ned again. “Dig potatoes, I suppose?”
“Don’t be foolish!” commanded Tom. “There are seals and bears, and Captain Karofsen says that both Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor had rifles.”