“Try both,” I breathed.
But at that instant there came a vast trembling under our feet, and the next I was lying upon the snow, while the air about me was being rent by a sound so awful as to batter into my brain the thought that we had struck the Antarctic Continent and split it in two! I was nearly right, only that, when a second later I opened my eyes, I saw that the split was the Pacemaker’s, and that I was lying within six inches of its edge. Just across, perhaps ten yards away, lay Edith Gale. More than two hundred feet below was the sea, and at that instant I saw the Billowcrest being lifted up and up by the mightiest, slowest wave that ever sea was heir to. It seemed to me that she would never stop, and I remember thinking dimly that if she kept on coming I could get aboard. Then at last she fell back and the sea swallowed her. Again I could count time, and I was sure she was on her way to the bottom when she reappeared, swinging and rolling, but apparently undamaged. I saw black figures on her begin to move; then I looked across once more to Edith Gale, who was slowly drifting farther from me. She was sitting upright, half dazed as it seemed. I called across to her. She assured me that she was not in the least injured—only a bit shaken up and confused. Then I saw she had been correct in the position of the launch.
Sketch from Mr. Chase’s Note-book.
“Go to the boat,” I said. “If they are not lost, they can take you to the ship, and then try to get me. I can see the ship from here. It seems safe.”
“Keep away from that edge!” she called back. “And why don’t you use the telephone?”
I had forgotten it entirely. Even as she spoke it began ringing, and holding it to my ear I distinguished the eager “hello” of Chauncey Gale.
“Hello!” I called, “all right up here! How’s the ship?”
“Wet, but safe. How’s Johnnie?”
“Safe. We were separated when the shake-up came and the berg broke between us. She’s on the side where the launch is.”