"Port your helm!" sang out our hero. "Keep her so!" he added, as he saw the bows of the schooner point for the narrow passage.
Jack lit another blue light, and thumped on the deck to wake those below.
In half a minute Captain Sumner and the mate were beside them.
"The bergs are closing in on us," said the captain quietly. "Go to your helm, Bok; it will be safer."
The bergs were more than a mile long, and the vessel, under easy sail, was not making more than six knots an hour.
"Here, gentlemen, take the halyards, and rouse up the topgallant sails.
I won't trust the crew on deck till the last minute."
With the assistance of the man Bob had relieved at the wheel, they soon had the topgallant sails, which had been furled, chock-a-block.
"It will be a narrow squeak," muttered the captain, as he glanced at the icebergs, whose tops seemed quite close, though the bases were yet some distance from the schooner.
"Is there any hope?" whispered a soft voice in our hero's ear.
"I trust so, Miss Viola," he answered. "See! yonder is the end of the ice mountain on the starboard bow."