The Wolf-Men: A Tale of Amazing Adventure in the Under-World

“YOU’LL come, then?”

Professor James Mervyn’s voice quivered with eagerness as he put this question to his companion, Sir William Seymour, in a private room of a large London hotel. The baronet, a man in the prime of life, over six feet in height, and broad in proportion, his bearded face tanned by many a year of travel under a tropical sun, rose, and paced the chamber for some moments ere answering.

“Yes, I’ll come,” he said at length. “I had made all arrangements to leave England to-morrow for a spell in India; but that must slide. I can’t miss this chance of a trip to the Pole. But now tell me something more of this wonderful idea of yours.”

The professor’s spare form seemed to dilate with scientific zeal, and his eyes flashed as he commenced to speak.

“To begin at the beginning,” he said. “I have had the idea in my mind for some years, but until the last six months I saw no chance of putting it into execution. Although my theory has been ridiculed and laughed to scorn by most, if not all, of my colleagues, yet I am still convinced that it is not only feasible, but that it is the only way in which the secret of the Pole, so jealously guarded by Dame Nature, may be wrested from her grasp.

“This was my line of reasoning: that it would be possible for a properly equipped submarine vessel to dive beneath the great ice barrier, and so reach the open sea which we know exists beyond. But the submarines of the day were in no way suitable for the attempt. Mere toys in size, and in some instances proving veritable death-traps to their unfortunate crews, of what use were these to cope with the perils of the Arctic seas? So my theory remained dormant until, some weeks ago, I received a letter from Garth Hilton. You remember what a fellow Garth always was for making model boats?”

Seymour nodded affirmatively.

“Well,” Mervyn continued, “it seems that he has had his old school chum, Tom Wilson, the engineer, staying with him at Hilton Manor for several months, and between them they have managed to construct a submarine, which, if it but answer their expectations, will prove the very thing I have been waiting for all these years. This is Garth’s description of his craft,” and, extracting a letter from the depths of a bulky note-book, Mervyn read as follows:

“Total length, three hundred and fifty feet; beam, fifty feet; torpedo-shaped, with turret or wheelhouse, from which the vessel is governed, in centre of deck. Tanks for submerging or raising; air reservoirs for supply whilst beneath the surface; liquid air engines, a patent of Wilson’s, maximum speed of which is forty-five knots per hour upon the surface, and thirty submerged.”

“Whew!” The professor’s companion whistled in his astonishment at this last statement.

“Liquid air engines!” he said. “Why, I always thought that liquid air was a powerful explosive agent?”

“True,” returned Mervyn; “but you must also remember that steam becomes an explosive when compressed, as witness the recent boiler explosion, so that is no argument against the use of liquid air as a propelling power.”

“But I don’t quite see——” the baronet began in a puzzled tone.

“Let me try to make it clear to you,” interrupted Mervyn. “Though but eighteen, young Tom Wilson is already recognised as an authority on the subject of liquid air and its capabilities as a propelling agent. As you will recollect, his father was a famous engineer, and the family talent appears to have descended to the lad.

“Ever since he left school Tom has been working on his engines, lack of funds alone preventing him from perfecting them before now. With financial aid from Garth, however, he has at last been enabled to complete them, and I give you my word they are the finest set of engines I have ever been privileged to examine.

“The huge boiler is somewhat similar in shape to that of an ordinary marine engine, but is much larger, and contains a number of immense tubes, in which is stored the liquefied air. From these the stuff works direct upon the powerful cylinders. Heat, of course, is entirely unnecessary; in fact, it would shatter the whole affair to atoms, liquid air being many degrees colder than ice.