Almost before I knew where I was, the steamer began to sway over to starboard; then I saw that we were lifted out of the water; and as the men gave a cry of horror, we rose higher, and higher, and higher, as the great berg rolled slowly over till we were quite a couple of hundred feet in the air, perched on almost an even keel in a narrow V-marked valley, with the ice rising as high as the main yard on either side, and the little valley we were in running steeply down to the sea.
We all remained speechless, clinging to that which was nearest, and the motion made the doctor’s nephew exceedingly ill; but as for the doctor, he was standing note-book in hand, exclaiming, “Wonderful! Magnificent! Captain, I would not have missed such a phenomenon for the world!”
“Other world, you mean, sir!” I said, with a gasp of horror. “We shall never reach home again!”
“Nonsense, man,” he said. “Why, this ice will melt in less than a month, and let us down.”
“Or turn over the other way, and finish us off, sir!” I said, gloomily.
“Meanwhile, captain, I am up on the top of the iceberg, and can make my meteorological observations. Alfred, bring me the glaceoscope. Hang the fellow, he’s always poorly when I want him. Captain, will you oblige?”
I stood staring at him for a few moments, astonished at his coolness.
“The long brass instrument,” he said, “out of the case numbered four, in the cabin.”
I went and fetched the instrument, the men looking as much astounded as I was myself to see the doctor going coolly to work examining the structure of the ice, with its curious water-worn face. Then he seemed to be making measurements, and he ended by coming to us, rubbing his hands.
“Curious position, isn’t it!” he said, laughing. “By the way, captain, I should cast off those ice-anchors, in case the iceberg should make another turn. They might be the cause of mischief.”