The bows of the schooner were pointed straight for the narrow passage between the bergs, a channel which was closing in every minute. Her rigging screeched and her hull groaned under the press of canvas she was carrying. Raynor looked aloft anxiously. If anything carried away now, their doom was sealed.
In the blue glare of the lights the bergs looked gigantic. Their summits were fretted into pinnacles and steeples like those of a cathedral. The ice shimmered and flashed as the lambent glare shone on it. But the boys only gazed at the black channel between the two glittering monoliths of ice.
And now the mighty tops loomed right above them. A shout they could not repress broke from the sailors as the Polly Ann darted forward. Right for the black passage she made. The salt spray from the waves that dashed on the icy cliffs showered the schooner’s deck. “Get ready to jump for the ice if we strike,� breathed Raynor, “it’s our only hope!�
CHAPTER XV: A WHALE IS ANNOYED.
For an awful instant the wind dropped. Then came a mighty puff. The topsails filled. The Polly Ann heeled over till it seemed she must capsize—and darted forward.
The next instant they were between the bergs.
“Lights!� roared Terror Carson. Immediately two flares showed they were in the ice chasm. Luckily one of the bergs was bisected by a sort of valley.
This allowed the breeze to blow through and saved the Polly Ann. Gallantly she sped through the fearfully narrow passage and then, while the crew broke into a cheer, she sped into the open sea beyond.
It was a masterly stroke of seamanship. But Terror Carson, as he relinquished the wheel, did not show in his manner that he deemed he had accomplished anything extraordinary.
B-o-o-m!