A new kind of peril menaced them. To the noise, which resembled peals of thunder, was added a distinct undulating motion of the ice-field. Several of the party lost their balance and fell.
“Attention!” cried Penellan.
“Yes!” some one responded.
“Turquiette! Gradlin! where are you?”
“Here I am!” responded Turquiette, shaking off the snow with which he was covered.
“This way, Vasling,” cried Cornbutte to the mate. “And Gradlin?”
“Present, captain. But we are lost!” shouted Gradlin, in fright.
“No!” said Penellan. “Perhaps we are saved!”
Hardly had he uttered these words when a frightful cracking noise was heard. The ice-field broke clear through, and the sailors were forced to cling to the block which was quivering just by them. Despite the helmsman’s words, they found themselves in a most perilous position, for an ice-quake had occurred. The ice masses had just “weighed anchor,” as the sailors say. The movement lasted nearly two minutes, and it was to be feared that the crevice would yawn at the very feet of the unhappy sailors. They anxiously awaited daylight in the midst of continuous shocks, for they could not, without risk of death, move a step, and had to remain stretched out at full length to avoid being engulfed.