“What’s up now?” asked Raynor, noticing this. “If it’s the cruisers, I don’t mind, for only the Germans and Austrians would be held as prisoners. I’d kind of like to be ‘captured,’ as a novelty.”
“This trouble’s worse than cruisers,” rejoined Jack, in sober tones.
“What is it then?”
“Icebergs,” said Jack, sententiously.
“Icebergs at this time of the year?” asked Bill, incredulously, for bergs are rare in August on the usual steamer lanes, though occasionally seen.
“That’s what,” rejoined Jack; “the Caledonian was telling the Mersey. She says they are sown thick to the northwest of us. You’ve got to remember that we’re a long way to the north of the usual steamer tracks now, so it’s not surprising that the ‘growlers’ are about.”
“No, but it’s mighty unpleasant,” said Raynor. “What are you going to do?”
“Tell the captain about it at once,” said Jack, decisively, rising and putting on his cap.
“I hope he puts on the brakes when he hears about it,” commented Bill. “I’m not particularly nervous, but going full speed ahead through the fog into a field of bergs doesn’t just exactly feel good.”
“I’m only glad that the passengers don’t know about it,” said Jack. “They’re scary enough now. If they knew about the bergs, I firmly believe some of them would have to be put in strait jackets.”