Down, down, down; down with a speed so wild Ken grew
faint; down through the core of a maelstrom of snow till she crashed.

Kenneth Torrance knew a sudden shaking impact; for an instant there
was uncertainty; and then came all-pervading quiet....

CHAPTER III.

_The Fate of the Peary_

Quiet, and utter, liquid darkness.

Liquid! Around him, Ken heard a gurgling, at first loud and close,
then subsiding to a low whispering of currents. The amphibian had hit
water.

Gone in an instant was the shriek and fury of the storm and in its
place the calm, slow-heaving silence of underwater. The plane was
shattered in a dozen places, but the torpoon had easily stood it.

Ken turned to action. He switched on the torpoon's dashboard lights
and twin bow-beams, and saw that the shell was wedged in the fuselage.
The plane was apparently entirely under the surface, and her interior
filled with water.

Holding the propeller in neutral, he revved up the powerful electric
motor. Then he bit the propeller in, slowly. The torpoon nudged back
for inches. Then, throwing the gear into forward, Ken gave her full
speed. The torpoon leaped ahead, crunched through the weakened corner
ahead and was free.

It was a world of drab tones that she came into. Down below was
impenetrable blackness, shading softly overhead into blue-gray which
was mottled by lighter areas from breaks in the floes above. All was
calm. There was no sign of life save for an occasional vague shadow
that, melting swiftly away, might have been a fish or seaweed. Placid
always, would be this shrouded sea of mystery, no matter what furious
tempest raged above over the flat leagues of ice and water.

But the seeming peacefulness was but a mask for danger. Kenneth
Torrance's face was set in sober lines as he sped the slim torpoon
northward, her bow lights shafting long white fingers before her. For
now there was only one path--and that lay ahead. He could not turn
back. Storm and water had destroyed the plane that could take him back
to land. He could not possibly reach any outpost of civilization in
the torpoon, for her cruising radius was only twenty hours. He had
planned to land the amphibian on the ice above the spot where the
_Peary_ had disappeared, then find a break in the ice and slide down
below in the torpoon on his quest--to return to the plane if it proved
fruitless. But now there was no retreat. It was succeed, or die.

And with that realization a m