Their agony of apprehension was increased by the certainty that they could do nothing to prevent it. They had to stand by helplessly, and perhaps see fellow men go to their death.
“Nothing but a miracle can save them,” muttered Bob, between his clenched teeth.
And at just that instant the “miracle” happened.
There was a sharp report, and the great pinnacle of the berg snapped off on the side opposite to the ship and fell with a thunderous splash into the sea. The berg, relieved of the weight on the side to which it was leaning, began to swing back again like a pendulum.
As it did so, the spur sank deeper, letting the ship down again into the water. Sliding, grating, rasping, the vessel slipped into deeper water until she again rode the sea at her regular water line.
Then, like a frightened deer released from the grasp of the hunter, the ship that had had such a narrow escape hastened away from the icy monster until it had got safely out of reach.
A gasp of relief broke from the boys and from all the witnesses of what was almost a tragedy.
“Gee!” exclaimed Bob, wiping away the sweat that had started from his brow under the tremendous mental strain. “That’s a case of looking death straight in the eyes and yet getting away from him.”
“I don’t want to see any shave so close as that again,” ejaculated Joe.
“They seem to have been injured,” remarked Herb. “The vessel is slowing down.”