Part 5 (1/2)

We went to the landing stage. I wanted to tie up Ahla, but as Georg said, she could do nothing now that the instrument room was out of commission. We admonished her sternly to stay where she was, and left the house.

On the open landing stage my small aero was lying where I had left it; but a moment's glance showed us it was wrecked--its instruments and its driving mechanism demolished!

There was no doubt about it now; Ahla had planned to keep us on the island while her people came and seized us. Fortunately the Brende car was well housed and barred. We saw that the gates had been tampered with, but with the limited time Ahla had to work in, she had been unable to force them. We swung them wide, and to our infinite relief found the car unharmed.

At once Dr. Brende called Robins. But the laboratory did not answer!

”It may be your sending apparatus,” I suggested. ”Send your message down to Headquarters--with their high power they'll get Robins quickly enough.”

He tried that--sending also his answer to the previous coded message Headquarters had sent him. It was now 11:45. We waited some eight minutes, during which time I rushed back to the house. Ahla was sitting obediently where I had left her.

”You stay there,” I told her. ”If you move, I'll break every bone in your rotten little body.”

Back at the landing stage I found Dr. Brende in despair. Headquarters could not raise Robins. They had relayed the message to Wrangel and Spitzbergen Islands--but the stations there reported similarly. Dr.

Brende's laboratory did not answer its call.

This decided us. We had no wish to remain where we were. The Brende car, far larger than the small one of mine, was fully equipped and provisioned. We rolled it out, and in a moment were flying in the air.

Dr. Brende's car was large, commodious, and smooth-riding. A pleasure to fly in such a car! Georg was at the controls. I sat close beside Elza in the semi-darkness, gazing down through the pit-rail window to where the island was dropping away beneath us. It was a perfect night; the moon had set; the stars and planets gleamed in an almost cloudless sky. Red Mars, I saw, very nearly over our heads.

It was now midnight, and for the moment we chanced to have the air to ourselves. We rose to the 10,000-foot level, then headed directly North.

It carried us inland; soon the sea was out of sight behind. Lights dotted the landscape--a town or city here and there, and occasionally a tower.

Dr. Brende was poring over charts, illumined by a dim glow-light beside him. ”Can we get power all the way, Georg?... Elza child, hadn't you better lie down? A long trip--you'll be tired out.”

”Call Royal Mountain[6],” Georg suggested. ”Ask them about serving us power; I'll stay 10,000 or below. Under one thousand, when we get further north. Ask them if they can guarantee us power all the way.”

[Footnote 6: Now Montreal.]

The station at Royal Mountain would guarantee us nothing on this night; they advised us to keep low. Their own power-sending station was working as usual. But this night--who could tell what General Orders might come?

Everyone's nerves were frayed; this Director demanded gruffly to know who we were.

”Tell him none of his business,” I put in. My own nerves were frayed, too.

”Quiet!” warned Georg. ”He'll hear you--and it _is_ his business if he wants to make it so. Tell him we are the Inter-Allied News, father. That is true enough, and no use putting into the air that Dr. Brende is flying north.”

Royal Mountain let us through. We pa.s.sed well to the east of it about 12:45--too far away to sight its lights. The cross-traffic was somewhat heavier here. Beneath it, at 5,000 and 6,000 feet, a steady stream of cars was pa.s.sing east and west.

We were riding easily--little wind, almost none--and were doing 390 miles an hour. You cannot bank or turn very well at such a speed; it is injurious to the human body. But our course was straight north. Dr.

Brende showed it to me on his chart--north, following the 70th West Meridian. Compa.s.s corrections as we got further north--and astronomical readings, these would take us direct to the Pole. I could never fathom this air navigation; I flew by tower lights, and landmarks--but to Dr.

Brende and Georg, the mathematics of it were simple.

At two o'clock we had crossed the route of the Chicago-Great London Mail flyer. But we did not see the vessel. The temperature was growing steadily colder. The pit was inclosed, and I switched on the heaters.

Elza had fallen asleep on the side couch, with my promise to awaken her at the first sign of dawn.

At two-thirty, the Greater New York-East Indian Express overhauled us and pa.s.sed overhead. It was flying almost north, bound for Bombay and Ceylon via Novaya Zemlya. It was in the 18,000-foot lane. The air up there was clear, but beneath us a fog obscured the land.

At intervals all this time Dr. Brende had been trying to raise Robins--but there was still no answer. We did not discuss what might be the trouble. Of what use could such talk be?