“Never say die, you know,� rejoined Raynor, “but look, what’s that on our bow?�
“Looks like a big black tenement house wid no lights in der winders.�
“It’s a berg.�
“Holy Moses and we’re headed right bang fer um. Hold fast!�
“Light a flare there,� shouted the captain suddenly. The next moment the ghastly blue glare of a Coston light sputtered up. The sight the blaze revealed was a terrifying one.
There were two bergs. Both of them giants and both approaching each other. Between them was only a narrow passage. Waves dashed against their sides as the sea forced its way through the narrow channel. They were fairly caught in a trap. It was impossible to go about in that sea of ice.
“Chee, we’re goners,� cried Noddy, “we’ll git squeezed in between ’em like a lemon.�
“It looks as if there was no hope,� admitted Raynor. Then he looked round at Terror Carson. Like a man of steel the skipper of the Polly Ann stood poised on the bulwarks, steadying himself by a back stay. He seemed to be gauging the distance between the two converging bergs and the schooner. Raynor almost found it in his heart to admire his stoical calm in that supreme moment.
“Can we make it, sir?�
It was the mate speaking. He was ordinarily a calm, stolid man, but now his voice was hoarse with tension.