"We have come to say, Commander," resumed Bolton, "that we have done enough for this invisible captain, and that we have made up our minds not to go on any farther."
"Made up your minds?" cried Shandon. "Is that the way you talk to me, Bolton? Take care."
"You need not threaten," retorted Pen, brutally, "we are not going any farther."
Shandon stepped towards the mutinous sailors, when the boatswain said to him in a low voice,—
"Commander, if we want to get out of this place, we have not a moment to lose. There's an iceberg crowding towards the entrance; it may prevent our getting out and imprison us here."
Shandon returned to look at the state of affairs.
"You will account for this afterwards," he said to the mutineers. "Now, go about!"
The sailors hastened to their places. The Forward went about rapidly; coal was heaped on the fires; it was necessary to beat the iceberg. There was a race between them; the brig stood towards the south, the berg was drifting northward, threatening to bar the way.
"Put on all the steam, Brunton, do you hear?" said Shandon.
The Forward glided like a bird through the broken ice, which her prow cut through easily; the ship shook with the motion of the screw, and the gauge indicated a full pressure of steam, the deafening roar of which resounded above everything.