The men came leaping up, and at the captain’s shout dropped the two port boats over the side. A rope was passed to them, and with furious tugs they passed ahead, towing desperately. The men left on deck set the sails again, waiting for the first breath of the gale to catch them. They stared wide-eyed over their shoulders, watching, staring, gluing their gaze to the mighty ice-cliffs astern.
I scrambled up to Waller, full of unquiet surprise. I felt that something was imminent—some possible disaster that I could not fathom. I demanded explanations.
“Mr. Janson has committed a very serious error of judgment, my lord,” said the sailor shortly. “A few minutes will see it repaired, I hope.”
“But, good gracious!” said I with some annoyance, “you’re taking us out into that whirlpool again just when we were comfortable. What on earth’s the matter?”
Before he could answer me the first breath of the gale began to catch upon the sails. The sailors hauled upon the sheets to tauten them as he bawled his orders down, and the boats’ crews were beckoned back. As they slipped alongside, and the davit-hooks caught again upon the pulleys, Waller gave a great sigh of relief and turned to me again.
“That iceberg——” he began, and at the words no explanation became necessary.
We were both staring at it when again the edge of it began to lift. But this time there was no return. Up, up, it soared, lifting its dripping flanks into the air, and the seas poured back from it in torrents. The waters boiled behind our stern, heaving as if in the bath of some gigantic geyser. For one single moment we danced haltingly upon the turbulence, the wind fighting with all its strength upon our canvas against the under-currents that tore at our keel. Then, thank God, the gale was victor. We slid away from the grip of the backflow, out into the riot of the storm again. And behind us one of nature’s dramas was enacted awfully. With a roar and a thunderous crash the iceberg slanted, swayed, poised itself one motionless instant, and then rolled completely over, dashing its topmost summit into the heart of the deep, and, heaved up by its mighty fall, a huge wave rose and almost engulfed it. The great rollers came clamoring after our flying bark as if in vindictive disappointment for the escape of their nearly won prey. But their fury defeated them. Their crests thundered on our stern, and flung us with growing force out into the ocean, while behind us the berg slowly emerged among the tossing, to point new pinnacles toward the clouds. And out in the storm again we continued our ceaseless race before the seas, flying anew down the long trail south, buffeted, tempest driven, but safe again by the favor of a brave sailor’s quick-witted knowledge.
CHAPTER IX
THE LEAPING OF THE WALL
Another night of tempest succeeded, diversified by stinging showers of hail and sleet. I believe neither captain nor mate left the bridge the whole night long, for the floe and berg began to grow around us, tack as we would. But the deeper we got into the heart of the multitude of island ice, the less grew the force of the wind. I rose the next morning after a few hours’ restless slumber to find us floating gently in a calm, untroubled sea, while around us, as far as eye could reach, the white pack stretched in uneven masses to the horizon.
We dawdled down the broad lanes of black water between, the little puffs of wind coming fitfully from behind the sheltering masses. Our range of vision got less and less as these increased in size, and about mid-day the sun came out gloriously, and Waller was able to take an observation.