“Not a word, Nick! We went into the game with our eyes open. Besides, this deal is mine.”
And from Mr. Sturritt:
“It’s—it’s all right. I—I’m with the Admiral!”
And now the bow was touching and sliding on the ice above. It was several inches higher than the stern, but presently that touched also. We were being pressed slowly, surely downward. I don’t know what the others were doing, but I was praying, hard.
Lower, and still lower. Water splashed cold against my face, and choked the good-by I was about to utter. Then came another splash, and another—then a great cold stream, and then——
A sharp grating above—a roaring of waters all about—a lifting—a tossing—and a burst of something that brought me suddenly upright to God’s daylight, and the fresh salt air of Bottle Bay!
Behind us, the rising tide was roaring into the opening of the tunnel, that was now open and now closed by the billows. Our boat was more than half filled with water and we were choking and gasping, but above us was blue sky, and before us, not two hundred yards away, our stanch, our noble, our beautiful Billowcrest. Somebody was on deck. Somebody with a peaked fur hood—somebody who gave a great shout that brought others from everywhere. And a moment later we were on board—welcomed by those who loved us!
“Biff,” said Gale, as he greeted him, “have you got up steam?”
“A little, and I can get up a good deal more in five minutes.”
“Well, get her up, and let’s pull out of here, quick!”