“Cause of mischief! Hark at him!” said Abram. “When we’re perched two hundred foot up here in the air! Come on, lads.”
The ice-anchors were taken out of the holes that had been cut for them, and were got on board as we settled down for the night, no man feeling disposed to sleep; and all this while we were drifting slowly with the stream farther and farther south.
This went on for four days, and then, one night, I remember thinking, as I lay on deck, that could we be sure of the ice melting slowly at the top, and letting us down, we should be safe; but I knew that the bottom melted faster in the warm water, then the top grew heavier, and over it went again.
I tried very hard to keep awake in case of danger; but it was of no use, for I was worn out with watching, and at last I went off soundly to sleep, dreaming that I was drowned, and living in an ice cave, fish fashion, at the bottom of the sea, when I was awakened by Scudds, who shook me, crying, “Wake up, skipper! she’s a-going to launch herself!”
I jumped to my feet, to find the doctor on deck, lecturing his nephew about the launching of ships, and pointing out the gradual slope down of the ice valley in which we lay.
“She’s shifted two foot!” said Scudds. “I felt her move!”
“Batten down the hatches!” I roared, seeing what was coming; and as soon as this was done, and the ship made water-tight, I gave fresh orders for every man to lash himself fast to the shrouds and belaying-pins, while I myself secured the doctor and his nephew, neither of them seeing the slightest danger in what was to come.
Hardly had I done this, than there was a strange creaking, scratching noise, as of iron passing over ice; and then we felt that the vessel was in motion, gilding down the horrible precipice toward the sea.
At first she moved very slowly, but gathering speed, she glided faster and faster, till, with a rush like an avalanche, she darted down the great ice slide, stem first, till, at the bottom, where the iceberg ended abruptly in a precipice forty or fifty feet high, she shot right off, plunging her bowsprit the next instant in the water, and then all was darkness.
The sensation of the slide down was not unpleasant; the rush through the air was even agreeable; but to dart down into the depths of the ocean like some mighty whale, was awful. There was a strange roaring and singing in the ears; a feeling of oppression, as if miles of water were over one’s head; a sense of going down, down, down into the depths that were like ink; and then, by degrees, all grew lighter and lighter, till, with a dart like a diving-bird, the stout iron steamer sprang to the surface, rolled for a minute or two with the water streaming from her scuppers, and then floated easily on the sea, with the iceberg half a mile astern.