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Page 89
July was very hot. No breath of wind stirred the vast, invisible sea of
air, quivering and oily under the vertical sun. The landscape was
deserted of animated life; there was little stirring abroad. In the
house one kept within the cool, darkened rooms with matting on the
floors and comfortable, deep wicker chairs, the windows wide to the
least stirring of the breeze. Adler dozed in his canvas hammock slung
between a hitching-post and a crab-apple tree in the shade behind the
stable. Kamiska sprawled at full length underneath the water-trough, her
tongue lolling, panting incessantly. An immeasurable Sunday stillness
seemed to hang suspended in the atmosphere--a drowsy, numbing hush.
There was no thought of the passing of time. The day of the week was
always a matter of conjecture. It seemed as though this life of heat and
quiet and unbroken silence was to last forever.
Then suddenly there was an _alerte_. One morning, a day or so after
Hattie Campbell had returned to the City, just as Lloyd and Bennett were
finishing their breakfast in the now heavily awninged glass-room, they
were surprised to see Adler running down the road toward the house,
Kamiska racing on ahead, barking excitedly. Adler had gone into the town
for the mail and morning's paper. This latter he held wide open in his
hand, and as soon as he caught sight of Lloyd and Bennett waved it about
him, shouting as he ran.
Lloyd's heart began to beat. There was only one thing that could excite
Adler to this degree--the English expedition; Adler had news of it; it
was in the paper. Duane had succeeded; had been working steadily
northward during all these past months, while Bennett--
"Stuck in the ice! stuck in the ice!" shouted Adler as he swung wide the
front gate and came hastening toward the veranda across the lawn. "What
did we say! Hooray! He's stuck. I knew it; any galoot might 'a' known
it. Duane's stuck tighter'n a wedge off Bache Island, in Kane Basin.
Here it all is; read it for yourself."
Bennett took the paper from him and read aloud to the effect that the
Curlew, accompanied by her collier, which was to follow her to the
southerly limit of Kane Basin, had attempted the passage of Smith Sound
late in June. But the season, as had been feared, was late. The enormous
quantities of ice reported by the whalers the previous year had not
debouched from the narrow channel, and on the last day of June the
Curlew had found her further progress effectually blocked. In essaying
to force her way into a lead the ice had closed in behind her, and,
while not as yet nipped, the vessel was immobilised. There was no hope
that she would advance northward until the following summer. The
collier, which had not been beset, had returned to Tasiusak with the
news of the failure.
"What a galoot! What a--a professor!" exclaimed Adler with a vast
disdain. "Him loafing at Tasiusak waiting for open water, when the Alert
wintered in eighty-two-twenty-four! Well, he's shelved for another year,
anyhow."
Later on, after breakfast, Lloyd and Bennett shut themselves in
Bennett's workroom, and for upward of three hours addressed themselves
to the unfinished work of the previous day, compiling from Bennett's
notes a table of temperatures of the sea-water taken at different
soundings. Alternating with the scratching of Lloyd's pen, Bennett's
voice continued monotonously:
"August 15th--2,000 meters or 1,093 fathoms--minus .66 degrees
centigrade or 30.81 Fahrenheit."
"Fahrenheit," repeated Lloyd as she wrote the last word.
"August 16th--1,600 meters or 874 fathoms--"
"Eight hundred and seventy-four fathoms," repeated Lloyd as Bennett
paused abstractedly.
"Or ... he's in a bad way, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a bad bit of navigation along there. The Proteus was nipped and
crushed to kindling in about that same latitude ... h'm" ... Bennett
tugged at his mustache. Then, suddenly, as if coming to himself:
"Well--these temperatures now. Where were we? 'Eight hundred and
seventy-four fathoms, minus forty-six hundredths degrees centigrade.'"
On the afternoon of the next day, just as they were finishing this
table, there was a knock at the door. It was Adler, and as Bennett
opened the door he saluted and handed him three calling-cards. Bennett
uttered an exclamation of surprise, and Lloyd turned about from the
desk, her pen poised in the air over the half-written sheet.
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