Boy Aviators Polar Dash | Page 2

which lay at
a small pier projecting in an L-shaped formation, from the main wharf,
the bitter blasts that swept round warehouse corners appeared to be of
not the slightest consequence--at least to judge by their earnest
conversation.
"What a muss!" exclaimed Harry, the younger of the two lads.
"Well," commented the other, "you'd hardly expect to find a wharf,
alongside which a south polar ship is fitting up, on rush orders, to be as
clean swept as a drawing-room, would you?"
As Harry Chester had said, the wharf was "a muss." Everywhere were
cases and barrels all stenciled "Ship Southern Cross, U. S. South Polar
Expedition." As fast as a gang of stevedores, their laboring bodies
steaming in the sharp air, could handle the muddle, the numerous cases
and crates were hauled aboard the vessel we have noticed and lowered
into her capacious holds by a rattling, fussy cargo winch. The shouts of
the freight handlers and the sharp shrieks of the whistle of the boss
stevedore, as he started or stopped the hoisting engine, all combined to
form a picture as confused as could well be imagined, and yet one
which was in reality merely an orderly loading of a ship of whose
existence, much less her destination, few were aware.
As the readers of The Boy Aviators in Record Flight; or, The Rival
Aeroplane, will recall, the Chester boys, in their overland trip for the
big newspaper prize, encountered Captain Robert Hazzard, a young
army officer in pursuit of a band of renegade Indians. On that occasion
he displayed much interest in the aeroplane in which they were
voyaging over plains, mountains and rivers on their remarkable trip.
They in turn were equally absorbed in what he had to tell them about
his hopes of being selected for the post of commander of the expedition
to the South Pole, which the government was then considering fitting
out for the purpose of obtaining meteorological and geographical data.
The actual attainment of the pole was, of course, the main object of the
dash southward, but the expedition was likewise to do all in its power
to add to the slender stock of the world's knowledge concerning the

great silences south of the 80th parallel. About a month before this
story opens the young captain had realized his wish and the Southern
Cross--formerly a stanch bark-rigged whaler--had been purchased for
uses of the expedition.
Their friend had not forgotten the boys and their aeroplane and in fact
had lost no time in communicating with them, and a series of
consultations and councils of war had ended in the boys being signed
on as the aviators of the expedition. They also had had assigned to their
care the mechanical details of the equipment, including a motor sledge,
which latter will be more fully described later.
That the consent of the boys' parents to their long and hazardous trip
had not been gained without a lot of coaxing and persuasion goes
without saying. Mrs. Chester had held out till the last against what she
termed "a hare-brained project," but the boys with learned discourses
on the inestimable benefits that would redound to humanity's benefit
from the discovery of the South Pole, had overborne even her rather
bewildered opposition, and the day before they stood on the wharf in
the Erie Basin, watching the Southern Cross swallowing her cargo, like
a mighty sea monster demolishing a gigantic meal, they had received
their duly signed and witnessed commissions as aviators to the
expedition--documents of which they were not a little proud.
"Well, boys, here you are, I see. Come aboard."
The two boys gazed upward at the high side of the ship from whence
the hail had proceeded. In the figure that had addressed them they had
at first no little difficulty in recognizing Captain Hazzard. In grimy
overalls, with a battered woolen cap of the Tam o' Shanter variety on
his head, and his face liberally smudged with grime and dust,--for on
the opposite side of the Southern Cross three lighters were at work
coaling her,--a figure more unlike that of the usually trim and trig
officer could scarcely be imagined.
The lads' confusion was only momentary, however, and ended in a
hearty laugh as they nimbly ascended the narrow gangway and gained
the deck by their friend's side. After a warm handshake, Frank

exclaimed merrily:
"I suppose we are now another part of the miscellaneous cargo, sir. If
we are in the way tell us and we'll go ashore again."
"No, I've got you here now and I don't mean to let you escape," laughed
the other in response; "in my cabin--its aft there under the break in the
poop, you'll find some more overalls, put them on and then I'll set you
both