"There can be no doubt of that, but I say, Jack, isn't there something off yonder? I can't make it out, but it seems to me that it is more than the fog."
While the three were talking, Fred Warburton was seated so as to face the open sea, the others being turned sideways and giving no heed to that point of the compass.
It will be remembered that at this time they were inclosed in the all-pervading fog, which prevented them seeing as far as the length of the mountain of ice on which they were seated. Turning toward the water and peering outward, they saw the cause of the boy's question. The vapor itself appeared to be assuming shape, vague, indistinct, undefined, and almost invisible, but nevertheless perceptible to all.
The sailor was the first to see what it meant. Leaping to his feet he emitted his favorite exclamation:
"By the great horned spoon! it's another berg!"
With awful slowness and certainty the mass of fog disclosed more and more distinctly the misty contour that had caught the eye of Fred Warburton. At first it was like a pile of denser fog, rolling along the surface of the sea, but the outlines became more distinct each moment, until the form of an iceberg was clearly marked in the wet atmosphere.
The new one was much smaller than that upon which they were afloat, but it was of vast proportions for all that, enough to crush the largest ship that ever floated, as though it were but a toy in its path.
But the fearful fact about its appearance was that the two bergs were approaching each other, under the influence of adverse currents!
A collision was inevitable, and the boys contemplated it with hardly less dismay than they did the overturning of the larger one a short time before.
"This is no place for us!" called out Jack, the moment after his exclamation; "let's get out!"