“Must have been brought down on a berg from the Arctic,” surmised Lieutenant Mayhew, who had directed the party that had slain the monsters. “It happens that way sometimes. These are as big as any I have ever seen. I suppose it was as much of a surprise to them as it was to us, when they found themselves aboard the ship.”
“I’d like to have one of the skins as a memento,” ventured Jimmy.
“Same here,” echoed Joe.
“I guess that can be arranged,” replied the lieutenant. “You can speak to the captain about it, when he has time to think of anything but the ship.”
That time did not come for many hours thereafter, for the captain still had his hands full in looking after the safety of his vessel. She was still in most imminent peril. Any hour, any moment, might be her last.
The Radio Boys, dismissing from their thoughts for a time the encounter with the bear, worked steadily at the key, relieving each other from time to time, sending and receiving messages and urging hurry on the several vessels within their range that were coming to their assistance.
And all through those tense hours, every one was conscious that at any moment the two giant icebergs at the side, coming together, might clip the vessel into shreds as with a pair of shears.
The first ray of hope came when the fog began to lift. While this revealed more clearly their dreadful peril, it also showed them a channel by which they might back out and reach the open sea.
With infinite caution, the engines began to reverse. But the Meteor had barely begun to respond when a shout arose.
“The berg is toppling!”