After a rough crossing of the Atlantic from New York to Plymouth, England, where the Neptune had put in to replenish its supply of fuel, the cruise of the polar submarine had been much smoother and Harry had really enjoyed his trip. The daily talks by radiophone with Bert, Serge and Andy were the high spots of the day for he missed the pleasure of their companionship.

His first days aboard the Neptune had been miserable with the weather rough and his stomach turning flip-flops every time he tried to eat. But after leaving Plymouth and heading north for Bergen he had found the sub and its tricks to his liking. Bob Smith, first officer of the Neptune, was not much older than Harry. Bob was a navy man, loaned to Gilbert Mathews especially for the Polar cruise, and he was thoroughly at home in the underwater craft.

From Bergen to King’s Bay, Spitzbergen, was a lonely voyage for there are few ships in the Arctic. An occasional gull wheeling overhead, stray bergs drifting by, and the eternal blue of the cold North Atlantic was all they saw day after day. Harry kept the radio humming with the press messages which the explorer sent back to his syndicate in New York. One method Mathews had used in spreading out the cost of the trip was the sale of exclusive stories of what went on aboard the Neptune to a newspaper syndicate. Morning and afternoon stories were required and Harry, who was adept at writing a readable story, was often pressed into service to write the daily dispatch.

Weather favored them all the way to King’s Bay, where they were to make their final stop for supplies, which had been sent on ahead by steamers.

Harry deserted his post and went up on deck when Bob called down to inform him that they were slipping into King’s Bay, scene of the start of many a famous Arctic flight. It was from here that Byrd and Floyd Bennett had made their dash to the North pole, to be followed a few days later by Nobile and Ellsworth in the Italian dirigible Norge. It was here that Wilkins and Eielson had landed after their long flight from Alaska across the barrens of the Arctic and it was from here that the ill-fated Norge had made a second expedition into the Arctic.

By the time the sleek, black submarine had nosed its way up to the large coal dock, the entire population of King’s Bay was down to greet it. The crew and officers welcomed the opportunity to leave the Neptune and stretch their legs on land, but preparations for the trip into the Arctic were pushed with all possible haste. The weather was too favorable for any unnecessary delay and the crew worked steadily at the task of refilling fuel tanks and taking on fresh stores of food.

On the morning of the 20th of June they cast their lines off the coal dock, the big Diesels turned over smoothly, and the Neptune backed away and turned its nose toward the open bay.

As many of the crew of 31 as could crowd onto the deck watched the changing scene, and listened to the wishes for good fortune shouted by the townspeople on the dock. There was a fresh breeze in the outer bay and they were forced below by the crisp wind which sent waves slapping over the deck in steady succession.

They were in the land of the midnight sun where in summer there is no night, only a dusk as the sun dips to the horizon. At dusk the mainland of Spitzbergen was to the rear and they were slipping past Amsterdam island, which lay to their right. Ahead of them was the uncharted mystery of the Arctic ocean.

Harry was surprised at the comparative mildness of the Arctic summer but the temperature of the Arctic sea was not such that a fall overboard was inviting and as a result the outer hull of the craft was ice-cold. Special electrical heating devices had been installed in the living quarters and the control room so it was fairly comfortable inside the sub.

As they pushed northward, Gilbert Mathews and the two scientists with him kept busy in the forward torpedo room where they made soundings of the ocean depth and drew off samples from the bottom to determine the nature of the floor of the Arctic. Because of the scientific investigations, the Neptune made slow progress and it was the fourth day out before they encountered much pack ice.

Conditions were favorable for the progress of the Neptune, for the ice fields were open with wide leads between them. Occasionally a small berg scraped the side of the submarine and on the fifth day, when they encountered a solid mass of ice, the diving order was given and the Neptune, its special electrical feelers projecting ahead, slipped under the wall of ice and into the open water on the other side. Such an operation was under the direct charge of Bob Smith, who demonstrated his ability in that one brief maneuver.

The weather remained fair and on the 26th and 27th, the Neptune increased its speed for the ice was fairly open. They were following almost the same route taken by Byrd and Bennett in their successful dash by air to the North Pole. On the twenty-eighth the sky closed in on them. A cold Arctic fog obscured the sun and a wall of static shut them off from communication with the outside world. They were now well into the unknown regions of the Arctic, further north than any vessel had previously penetrated, in the region which had been seen by man only from the air.

On the night of the twenty-eighth a bitter wind whipped down out of the northwest and the leads commenced to close under the pressure of the drifting ice. The Neptune scuttled from one open area to another seeking safety but the gravity of the situation increased every minute. With the ice pack closing in, it was possible that the submarine might be caught between the ice and crushed like an egg shell for despite its sturdy construction it could not withstand the enormous pressure which the ice would exert.

Bob was glued to the controls while Gilbert Mathews searched madly for an opening through which the Neptune might slip to safety. There was none and reluctantly the order was given to submerge.

They would be safe down below for the time being but they would be unable to tell in what direction safety lay. They would have to feel their way almost blindly under the ice, hoping that they would eventually find an opening where they could rise to the surface.

Bob sent the Neptune down five fathoms and they slipped under the ice pack.

Hour after hour passed as the Neptune crept under the great mass of ice. At times it was necessary to go down to 10 and 12 fathoms but for the most part they were only five or six fathoms under the ice. The Neptune was a good underwater boat, steady and smooth-riding and the crew experienced little discomfort. There was plenty of air for 40 hours under the ice and they felt no alarm, when, at the end of twenty hours, they had failed to find an opening.

They stopped and made a test with the ice drill which had been especially designed and installed for just such an emergency but the device jammed tight before they could get it working and that avenue of escape was cut off.

When another ten hours had elapsed and they were still groping blindly under the ice. Bob expressed his private opinion that they were in a tight situation. Harry agreed as he stood beside the first officer in the control room. Another three hours slipped away and the air was heavy. Harry’s head felt light and the blood raced through his veins. Unless they found an opening soon it would be curtains for the Neptune and its crew. Gilbert Mathews relieved Bob at the main controls and the first officer walked back to the radio cubby with Harry.

“If we don’t get out of this,” he said, “no one will ever know what happened to us. They’ll have plenty of guesses and some of them will be right, but they’ll never really know. I wish you could get a message through.”

“So do I,” said Harry, “but that won’t be possible until we emerge.”

“I’m all in,” confessed Bob, “and I don’t suppose worrying will help us any. Wake me up in half an hour,” he added as he slumped down in the one comfortable canvas chair in the room.

Harry returned to the control room where a white-faced, worried crew stuck grimly to their stations.

The air was bad; lights dim. They were barely creeping forward. Several of the men dropped at their posts and were carried away by more fortunate companions. Others took their places. The chief engineer, a quiet Yankee, came in to tell the explorer that the power was going. The batteries wouldn’t last more than another hour.

There was nothing Harry could do in the control room and he returned to his own quarters. Bob was sound asleep in the chair. One dim light glowed over the now useless radio set. Harry sat down and picked up a message blank. He’d write a note to Andy and Bert. Someone might find the hulk of the submarine some day; a freak of the Arctic might cast it where it would again be viewed by man.

Harry had just started the note when he was startled by a sudden bumping and scraping. The Neptune tilted sharply. Were they headed for the bottom; crushed under the ice pack? The thought shot through Harry’s mind as he roused Bob.

There were cries from the control room. They were going up. They had found an opening in the ice pack.

Three minutes later the main hatch was thrown open and a wave of cool, fresh air swept down into the dank, stinking interior of the submarine.

They were in a small lead between the sheer walls of the ice pack. The Neptune had nosed into it blindly at a time when officers and crews had despaired of their own lives.

As soon as the batteries had been charged sufficiently, Harry tried to send out a call but the wall of static still engulfed the Arctic and his efforts were futile.

“I don’t think I got out more than a hundred miles,” he told Bob, “and there isn’t one chance in a thousand that anyone heard us.”

The Neptune remained securely in the sheltered lead all day on the 30th, crew and officers resting after the strenuous ordeal they had been through. Above them and over the ice pack a high wind raged and toward the close of day there were ominous crackings and rumblings in the ice.

With the exception of one man left in the conning tower, the crew of the Neptune was sound asleep at midnight. Two hours later they were awakened by the alarmed cries of the watch. An eerie rumbling and groaning filled the night. When they tumbled out on deck a terrifying sight greeted them. The walls of the ice pack were closing in. They were trapped in the lead!

The rapid movement of the ice was astounding. Orders cracked from the lips of Gilbert Mathews and Bob Smith. The crew tumbled back into the submarine. The main hatch was slammed and battened down. A crash dive was in order. They were going under the ice again.

Harry dreaded the thought. The last time their margin of safety had been slim; too slim. This time they might not come up.

The tension inside the Neptune was terrific as Bob gave the orders for the dive. Valves were opened wide; water roared into the diving tanks. The Neptune settled swiftly. The conning tower was almost under when there was a terrific bump. Their downward motion stopped. The water continued to rush into the diving tanks but the depth indicated remained motionless.

“We’re caught on an ice shelf,” cried the explorer.

“Blow the tanks and we’ll get back to the surface,” commanded Bob. “We won’t have a chance if we’re caught by the ice under water.”

Compressed air whistled into the diving tanks and the needle of the depth gauge quivered and moved upward. With a rush they were back on the surface.

The walls of the ice had moved closer. There was the steady thunder of the pack as the pressure increased and miles of ice, driven by the biting gale, moved forward, crushing all before it.

Under Gilbert Mathews’ direction, members of the crew made hasty soundings. To their dismay it was found that the tremendous pressure of the advancing ice had driven a shelf of it under them. There wasn’t a single hole large enough to allow them to dive through to the comparative safety of the depths.

In the next seconds a tremendous decision must be made: Should they stay with the Neptune or abandon the submarine and attempt to escape over the ice?

The walls of ice were moving forward relentlessly, closing the gap foot by foot.

Gilbert Mathews, white-faced, grim, spoke.

“Get out the emergency equipment,” he said. “We’ll abandon the Neptune.”

For the next ten minutes the crew worked desperately. Food, tents, snowshoes, medical supplies, and the portable radio and stoves were rushed up from below. The Neptune was nosed over against the nearest wall of ice and the supplies tossed on the pack. Others of the crew, hurrying over the treacherous ice, carried the supplies back to a place of safety for the tremendous pressure which would be exerted when the walls of ice met might cause an explosion.

Harry took a final look at his beloved set before abandoning the Neptune. He tried one more desperate call but the static strangled his cry for help. They were alone in the desolate Arctic.

The Neptune abandoned to its fate, the crew retired from the edge of the ice pack. From a distance of half a mile they watched the walls of ice come together. Gilbert Mathews turned away when the first of the rumbling explosions shattered the air. Ice rose in great pyramids, shattering and flying in every direction. The pack on which they were standing quivered and moved dangerously. In several places wide gaps appeared but they were fortunate enough not to fall in.

When the pressure eased, they returned to the place where they had left the Neptune. Instead of a haven of open water they found great masses of ice, twisted and piled in grotesque fashion as though some giant of the north had been playing a game all his own.

“We’ve seen the last of the Neptune,” said Bob Smith sadly. “It was a good tub but not good enough to beat the Arctic.”

But Bob was wrong for on the far side of the twisted mass of ice they came upon the bow of the Neptune. From all appearances the shell of the submarine had withstood the terrific pressure and the undersea craft had been hurled out of the water and caught fast in the ice.

It would be impossible to use the Neptune as a means of travel but if the ice held its grip, they could live in the submarine until a rescue expedition could reach them.

Axes were brought from the supplies they had taken off the Neptune and the crew turned to the task of chopping a hole through the ice until they reached the main hatch. Working in shifts, it took them two hours to accomplish the task.

When the hatch was finally opened, Gilbert Mathews insisted that he be the first to enter for the danger of chlorine gas lurked inside the Neptune. If the batteries had upset, the deadly gas might have formed. Anxiously the crew awaited the return of their leader. They cheered wildly when he called that there was no sign of gas and they tumbled back inside for a thorough inspection. Seams had been wrenched so severely that the Neptune would sink like a rock if it ever slid into the ocean but it was dry and comfortable inside and there was plenty of fuel oil in the tanks to keep them warm for months to come.

The first thing was to send word of their plight to the outside world.

The portable radio with its aerial was set up on the ice outside and Harry sat down to send out the first message and ask for relief. The static had cleared since his last attempt and he finally picked up an amateur station at Hopedale, Labrador, to which he communicated the events which had befallen the Neptune. As nearly as possible, Harry gave their position and asked that the officers of the Goliath at Bellevue, Ky., be notified at once.

The operator at Hopedale, after recovering from the astonishment of Harry’s message, promised to relay it at once.

The hours dragged by and there was no reply from the operator at Hopedale, except that he had relayed the message to Montreal for further transmission.

The tent which had been erected around Harry’s portable set was little protection from the bitter wind and he was numb from cold and miserable when the Hopedale operator finally came back at him. The message had reached Bellevue. The reply was on the way. It cracked through the ether.

“Goliath leaves at midnight. Estimate distance to you is 5,500 miles. Should make it in 60 hours after departure. Signed, Andy High, Assistant Pilot.”

Harry ran to the Neptune with the message and the news it contained cheered them greatly. With the wind rapidly whipping into a storm, they took refuge in the warmth of the Neptune and awaited the coming of the Goliath.