“Ice in the propeller!” answered a sailor.
As he spoke the engine stopped, and in a twinkling the steamer swung around until her bow pointed directly toward the big iceberg.
“Look! look!” yelled Andy. “We are going to be hit, sure!”
“If we are, we are doomed!” echoed Chet.
Before anything could be done the big iceberg came drifting on them, slowly and majestically, a very mountain of crystal-like whiteness. So terrible was it that it fascinated the boys, who could do nothing but stare in commingled wonder and horror. An upper mass of the iceberg hung over the top, as if ready to fall and crush the steamer beneath it.
A moment passed—to the lads it seemed an eternity,—and then the big iceberg scraped the side. There was a strange grinding and crashing, and some pieces of ice came showering on the deck. Then the steamer began to rock, and some of the shrouds became entangled in the mass that overhung the deck. The Ice King commenced to move backward.
“We are being carried along by the iceberg!” cried Barwell Dawson, and his words told the truth of the awful situation.
[CHAPTER XVIII—SHOOTING WILD GEESE]
It was certainly a time of extreme peril, and the boys realized it fully as well as did the men. The steamer was caught in the grip of the big iceberg, and the deck was directly beneath an overhanging portion that might at any time break off and crush the vessel and all on board.
Captain Williamson had run aft to learn what could be done with the propeller, and he had already told the mate to get the sailors out with fenders to save the ship as much as possible from chafing on the side of the berg.