CHAPTER I. A WONDERFUL TALE.

“So you think the earth has been thoroughly explored, and that there is no such thing as an undiscovered continent, do you?” asked Percy Randall, as he lit a cigar and seated himself comfortably in a chair in the office of Frank Reade, Jr., for a social chat.

The young inventor, who hardly needs an introduction to the reader, so well is he known the world over, turned from his desk and regarded his visitor with a quizzical smile.

“Still at that old theory, Randall?” he said. “I thought you had discarded it after that last expedition of yours.”

Randall, a bronzed, athletic man of thirty years, but with heaps of experience as a globe-trotter and explorer, winced, but replied lightly:

“Well, I did have a hard time. We lost our ship in Desolation Channel, and were forced to take to an iceberg. If we had had an overland machine like your Electric Scorcher, we could have easily crossed that ice barrier and set foot upon the new continent, the most wonderful part of the globe. But as it was we were carried north into Cape Horn waters on the berg and finally picked up by an Argentine vessel.”

Frank looked interested.

“Then you really believe that there is an inhabited and undiscovered continent beyond that ice barrier?” he asked.

“Why, I have old Jack Wendel’s word for it.”

“A sailor’s word is good except when connected with a story. The telling of a yarn is ample license for stretching the imagination.”

“Very good,” rejoined Randall, “but old Jack has given his davy on it, and all sorts of oaths. Oh, I firmly believe him.”

“I would much like to hear his story,” said Frank.

“You would?” asked Randall, eagerly.

“Yes.”

“Then you shall. I brought him here to-day for that purpose. He is just outside the door. I will call him.”

Randall opened the office door and called:

“Wendel, come in here!”

The next moment there appeared in the doorway the figure of a sailor of the old-time type, who spliced the mainbrace and made sennit in the forecastle in the palmy days of the “tea wagons” and seventy-four gun frigates.

Jack Wendel pulled his foretop respectfully before Frank, and said:

“With submission, sir, just come aboard, and at your service!”

“Glad to meet you, sir!” said Frank, warmly. “Sit down. My friend here tells me that you have a wonderful yarn to tell.”

Wendel shot a shrewd glance at Frank, then said:

“It is not a yarn, skipper. It is a true story, on my honor!”

“Very good,” said Frank. “I should be glad to have you repeat it to me.”

“And you, sir?”

Wendel looked at Randall, who said:

“Certainly, Jack: fire away.”

The old salt clasped his hands over his knees and began:

“It was in ’53, and I went out from Baltimore in the Mary Luce. Captain Barnaby, for Peru. There never was a stauncher ship, mates, nor the Luce. She stood up like a church in a running gale, and it was no light storm that put her under the rollers.

“Well, we were forty-three souls aboard—crew, officers, and a few passengers. We had a lucky voyage all the way across the Equator and down the coast until we struck ther Horn seas. Then there was the Old Harry to pay.

“We hit into a south storm, and for four days we were unable to tell where we were. The seas came aboard like avalanches and cleared the deck to the masts fore and aft. That was a leetle the toughest trip I ever had. And I haven’t forgotten it.

“Well, the way the wind did howl and the sea run! When at length the sun shone long enough to take an observation our skipper swore that we were south of the Antarctic Circle.

“And with that our bosun’s mate came up to say that the ship was leaking a hundred strokes a minute, more or less. We all turned to the pumps and worked like madmen.

“But what was the use? We could never hope to make land under many weeks, and the ship could not float that long. We were put to it pretty desperate, and finally the end came.

“There was no way but to take to the boats. What was worse, a little squall came up and made it almost impossible to launch ’em. Then the ship began to settle.

“I can’t tell ye just all about what followed. The captain’s boat was lowered and swamped. The longboat cleared with fourteen aboard, but was caught between the rollers and capsized. All hands went down.

“There were over twenty of us left on the ship’s deck, and a regular fight was made for the remaining boats. They were put out and two of ’em got clear and made off. But whatever became of ’em nobody ever knew. Six of us were left behind, and we had given ourselves up for lost.

“But the ship water-logged and did not sink as soon as it was thought that she would. That gave us time to make a raft. We put some stores on it, and set out in a calmer sea. For six weeks we floated in those icy seas.

“Luckily for us, it was the Antarctic summer, and we managed to get along with our thin clothing until we suddenly hailed land. Yes, it was actually land, away beyond the icebergs.

“There were mountains and a smoking volcano. At once our boys were decided to pay it a visit.

“The raft drifted on into the edge of the ice floe. Then we left her and cut out across the icefield.

“It would lake a long time for me to tell ye all that happened us on that long walk. One of our men slid into an air-hole and we never saw him again.

“Another died of exhaustion. But we kept on, though the cold was something awful to bear, until at last we came to a cut in the shore line. It was the mouth of a big river, and was jammed full of ice.

“It looked like a clear country beyond. We saw fir forests and evidences of a game country. So we pushed on over the ice-packs in the river.

“For fifty miles we followed the course of that icy river between fearful mountains and through deep gorges. At length we noticed a peculiar warmth in the atmosphere, and one of our boys, sniffing the air, declared:

“‘On my word, mates. I can smell land!’

“And, in fact, we could. The awful chill of the ice world was gone. Hope revived in our breasts. We kept on, and the farther we went the more evidences we found of the existence of a land clear from ice.

“At length we came to clear, open places in the river. Water was visible. There were bare patches of shore and hillside.

“The soil was auriferous, and we found slight evidences of minerals. Now a warm breeze relaxed our stiffened muscles and removed the tension from our lungs. We pressed on.

“A few days later we left the ice region behind us entirely, and came upon the wonderful Polar country. I couldn’t begin to describe it all to ye mates, but it was unlike any other part of the earth.

“Well, we wandered around for six months. It was easy to live there, for there was plenty of game. In the valleys were cities and towns, and at a distance we saw the Polar people. These are not to be classed with the Esquimaux, and seemed quite equal to the Europeans of the lower class.

“But we were not sure of a warm reception, so we did not venture to make their acquaintance. We kept out of sight in the hills.

“Well, we lived a year in the Polar country. We liked the life, but after awhile we tired of it as sailors will. Jim Welch wanted to go back to his wife in Salem: Rod Smith had a sweetheart in Buzzards’ Bay, and Jack Olson had promised his mother to stay at home with her after this voyage.

“So we figured out our position. We knew that in April the ice-fields would move north. Many of the big bergs would drift nearly to the Equator. We decided to make our way to one and take our chances on being picked up by a ship.

“So we made us suits of fur. Then we traveled down the river to the coast again.

“Here we found a big berg in a good position and made us a camp on it. We dug a deep cache and filled it with frozen meat and fowls. We dipped fresh water from small wooden troughs set in the top of the berg, which filled with water the first rain.

“When the proper time came the berg began to drift out to sea. Then we got into the Equatorial drift. It was a rough and strange experience.

“For months we lived on the berg, watching every day for a sail. Day by day the warm waters licked the ice away until all that was left of the big ice structure was about an acre in area. Then we knew that a great danger threatened us.

“One day Jim Welch, with a white face, came out, and said:

“‘Did ye feel that shiver in the berg a moment ago, lads? I tell ye she’ll turn turtle before two days!’

“You know that all bergs, after melting to a certain point, will grow top-heavy and turn over. That would settle our ease. And yet no sail.

“But the next morning at sunrise a Venezuelan schooner lay off our lee. The Gringo skipper answered our hail and took us off. He carried us to Caracas and we then shipped for New York.

“We were glad to get home, and none of us wanted to go back. But we could say that we had visited a part of the world that was never explored.

“And in that light we felt as big as Columbus, for there’s no telling what may some day come out of the discovery when trade is opened up. And that, mates, is the whole of my story!”

CHAPTER II. PLANS ARE MADE.

With this the sailor arose, touched his cap, and started for the door. But Frank, who had listened with the most intense interest, said:

“Wait! do not go yet, Jack. I may want to ask you some questions.”

“At your service, skipper.”

“Well,” said Randall, triumphantly, “what do you think of it now, Frank?”

“I own that I am much interested.” replied the young inventor. “It is a remarkable tale, and a valuable discovery.”

“So I believe,” cried Randall. “Here is evidence of the existence of a new and undiscovered continent. What better field could a man want?”

“How is it, Wendel?” asked the young inventor, turning to the sailor, “could my Electric Scorcher travel easily through that region?”

“Ay, sir, I believe it could, after ye left the ice behind,” replied the sailor.

Frank knit his brows.

“How great a distance would we have to travel over the ice fields?” he asked.

“Not over one hundred miles.”

“I have a plan,” said the young inventor. “I can attach my new skate shoes with the ice-crank to the wheels. That would enable us to cross the ice, and we can remove them when we strike land.”

An ecstatic cry escaped Randall’s lips.

“Oh, then you really think of going?” he cried. “That is splendid, Frank. It will be a wonderful experience.”

“Ah, but I have not promised absolutely,” said the young inventor, quickly. “But I will say this, that I will think the matter over seriously.”

“Only think of the glory of the thing!”

“That is true, but the feasibility of the enterprise must be strongly considered. You have tried it——”

“And failed. But you see, Frank, I had not the resources which you have—the fertile brain for devising expedients, and the Electric Scorcher.”

Frank turned and pressed a small call-bell. The door opened and a negro, black as soot, appeared.

“Pomp,” said Frank, “where is Barney?”

“Dat I’shman, sah? He am jes’ outside, sah,” replied the coon, with a duck of the head.

“Call him in. I want to see both of you.”

“All right, sah.”

A moment later a shock-headed native of the Emerald Isle appeared with the darky. These two men were Frank Reade, Jr.’s most faithful colleagues and companions in many a wonderful voyage.

“Wud yez loike to see me, sor?” asked Barney, with a scrape.

“I want to ask you if you have put the supplies aboard the Scorcher yet?”

Both bowed.

“Shure an’ we have, sor.”

“It am all ready, Marse Frank.”

“Good enough,” said Frank, in a pleased tone. “I have news for you. Mr. Randall and his friend have told me of a wonderful country beyond the Antarctic Circle which I think of paying a visit to. In that case it will not be long before we shall leave Readestown upon a new and wonderful voyage.”

Barney gave a cry of delight and turned a flip-flap. Pomp cut a pigeon wing.

“Golly, golly, dat am jes’ fine!”

“Bejabers, I’m glad of it!”

“Now, be off, both of you,” commanded Frank, “and get the machine all ready for the start.”

Away scurried the two jokers, and Frank turned to his companions, with a smile.

“They will leave nothing undone,” he said. “We are practically all ready to start at once.”

“That is good!” cried Randall. “Frank, you are a rusher!”

“Of course, you will be one of our party?” asked Frank.

“Delighted, and ——” Randall looked toward Wendel.

“Of course, we shall have to include your friend, if he will consent to go.”

Wendel pulled his foretop, and replied:

“At your service, skipper. I didn’t think I’d ever ship for that latitude again, but I’m with ye.”

All shook hands.

The compact was made.

They were about to undertake what seemed a herculean task, namely, the paying of a visit to an unexplored and comparatively inaccessible part of the world. What chances there were against them could easily be enumerated.

There was the possibility of never emerging from the deadly ice-floes, where the temperature was so fearfully low as to mitigate against human life. Wild beasts and wilder inhabitants were only a few of the perils.

But Frank Reade, Jr., was not the one to take backward steps once he assumed an undertaking.

“Now,” he said, briskly, “let us get down to business. We must first consider the means of getting to the Antarctic with the Scorcher.”

“Very good,” said Randall. “Can you suggest a plan?”

Wendel here pulled his foretop and said, respectfully:

“With respect to my superiors, sir, I think I can give ye a trick at the proper course.”

Frank and Randall turned.

“Very well,” said Frank, pleasantly. “We will be glad to hear it.”

“I have a friend—a former shipmate,” said Wendel, “who owns a staunch brig—just such a vessel as can stand the rough winds and the ice. His ship lies in New Bedford harbor now. His name is Captain Isaac Ward, and the name of his ship is the Black Pearl. He would, I think, undertake the voyage without any doubt.”

“Good!” cried Frank, with alacrity. “How soon can we see him, and where?”

“I will wire him now!” said Randall, excitedly. “If we can charter his brig we shall be all right.”

A few moments later, a telegraph message was speeding on its way to New Bedford. An hour later an answer came:

“Frank Reade, Jr.: My brig is in commission and ready for a cruise. I will agree to reasonable terms and will be in Readestown to-morrow.

All that the adventurers could now do was to wait for the coming of Captain Ward. Frank arose from the desk, and said:

“Would not you gentlemen like to take a look at the Scorcher?”

“Delighted,” was Randall’s reply, and Wendel nodded eagerly. So they left the office with that purpose in view.

When Barney and Pomp went forth they were in hilarious spirits. They crossed the yard with a hop, skip and jump, and approached the heavy iron doors of a high, truss-roofed structure.

“Ki yi!” cried Pomp, clicking his heels together. “I jes’ ’lot on seein’ dem icebergs. Huh! dat be a berry good place fo’ yo’, I’sh.”

“Phwat do yez mane, naygur?” interrogated Barney.

“Bekase it am so cold.”

“Phwat has that to do wid me, yez grinning misfit av an ape?”

“Hi, hi, hi! Don’ yo’ know? Ice am a’right fo’ to preserve green fings.”

Barney made a biff at Pomp.

“Be me sowl, it’ll make yez more conspicuous fer yer color, naygur!” he cried. “Shure, ye’ll froighten the whole counthry.”

“Huh! reckon dere am brack men in all pahts ob de worl’.”

“Divil a wan will yez foind on the old sod.”

“Dat am a berry unfortunate fing fo’ de island,” retorted Pomp. “Ki, dar, look out fo’ dat big snaik!”

The darky simulated terror and pointed to the Celt’s feet. Of course, there was no snake there, but the exclamation caused Barney to leap and yell with terror.

When he saw how he had been sold he made an angry biff at Pomp.

“Begorra, I’ll have yer skhin fer that!” he yelled.

But Pomp put out his foot and tripped the Celt up. However, Barney caught the darky’s ankle and brought him down, too.

Then there followed a mix-up. For a time it was hard to tell which had the best of it.

But suddenly approaching footsteps and voices were heard.

“Whisht!” cried Barney. “That’s Misther Frank. Be off wid yez.”

And they scurried away just in time. Frank, with his visitors, came up and opened the big doors. There upon a small platform stood the new invention.

The Electric Scorcher was built for speed, and with an idea to economy of space and lightness. It weighed hardly a thousand pounds, but on its pneumatic tired wheels ran apparently as light as an ordinary bicycle.

The symmetry of its build and the grace of its contour were remarkable. In these was seen the master hand of the builders and the mechanics.

The body of the Scorcher was made of bullet-proof plates of steel. It rested upon light but strong running gear. There were four plate-glass windows upon each side and one in the rear.

Above the desk rose a structure of steel netting—a sort of cage in which the voyagers could remain with unimpeded view in all directions. In this cage there were loopholes for firing upon a foe, if such a thing as defense should become necessary.

Over this cage was a small deck, and upon it was mounted a long, light steel cylinder. This was Frank Reade, Jr.’s most wonderful invention—the pneumatic dynamite electric gun.

This was a very deadly weapon, capable of throwing a dynamite shell two miles with frightful effect.

Just forward of this cage was the pilot-house, with heavy, plate-glass windows. The rear of the Scorcher was graced with a steel hood—much like the top of a chaise. In this there were kept the dynamos and electric engines.

In the pilot-house there was a keyboard by which the machine could be regulated and operated. Over the pilot-house was a powerful searchlight, with a wide range.

The equipments and furnishings of the machine throughout were of the best, and there were stores aboard sufficient for a year’s journey. Nothing had been left undone.

The Electric Scorcher was quite ready for the trip.

The two visitors looked the machine over with wonderment and delight. Then they went back to the office, where final arrangements were made.

And thus was undertaken the remarkable feat of making a voyage to an undiscovered continent.

It was an arduous and perilous undertaking, but our adventurers were pledged to it, and what their success was we shall see.

CHAPTER III. IN SOUTHERN SEAS.

And now, with the reader’s permission, we will change the scene of our story to the high seas south of the Equator.

The Black Pearl, staunch brig, was plowing her way through a white-capped sea. Unusually good weather had favored the party thus far.

There had been no difficulty encountered with the doldrums or head-winds even, and the Pearl had made a quick passage.

The sun was fiercely hot, and they were yet able to realize that they were in the tropics. But they knew that every hour now brought them nearer to their destination.

On the deck a canopy had been erected, and under this all were fond of reclining.

The principal pastime was of discussing the probable results of the trip and the peculiarities of the Antarctic land.

As near as Frank could figure, the fiord or river outlet, by means of which Wendel and his companions had entered the Antarctic country, was off the coast of Graham Land.

In that case a course due south from Cape Horn would be pretty sure to bring them into the right locality. So the brig held that course.

The arrangement was that Captain Ward should land them as near the Antarctic coast as possible on the icefield.

Then he would return to Montevideo and remain four months, after which he would come back to the edge of the icefield and cruise about for a month.