The coal added considerable to the weight of the ship, and when this was deposited on the ice, the vessel’s draught was lessened by several inches. With a straining and cracking she came up, and then the work of cutting the ice at her side continued.
By noon, the prospect of clearing the Ice King was almost hopeless. The interior timbers were cracking, and one had snapped in twain. To prevent a conflagration, the fires were put out, and the lamps also extinguished.
“Another hour will tell the tale,” said Barwell Dawson, almost sadly. “A little more pressure, and if she doesn’t come up she will be smashed as flat as a pancake!”
Captain Williamson was now trying to raise the vessel by means of steel cables slipped under the bow and stern. The cable ends on the ice pack side were fastened down by crowbars set in deep holes, and the other ends were hauled as near taut as possible by means of temporary windlasses.
“I believe we’ll make it!” cried the captain, presently. “Now then, one more turn on the cables!”
The windlasses groaned and twisted, and then, of a sudden, one broke from its fastenings and hit the side of the ship, letting the steel cable slip down into the water. This allowed the bow to rise and the stern to go down.
“The ice pack is moving!” yelled one man. “It’s coming in for all it is worth! The Ice King is doomed!”
[CHAPTER XXII—THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT]
The crashing and cracking sounds which rent the air seemed to justify the man’s cry. It was true the ice pack was being driven in sharply by the wind, which had greatly increased during the past hour. It pressed on the side of the ship with telling force, and all those outside heard several timbers give way inside and collapse.
But just at the crucial moment the work the men had been doing proved its worth. The ice began to crack and split a little deeper down, and suddenly the Ice King gave a start upward.