All this time poor Hank had been groaning at the bottom of the crevice, and calling upon them to hurry. The rope was fortunately long enough to reach him, and Breeze, again descending to where he lay, knotted the end of it under his arms. While he was doing this Wolfe cut a few footholds on the face of the slope leading to the top of the ridge. Then Breeze came up, and the two athletic young fellows drew the almost helpless form of their shipmate slowly but steadily to where they stood. While Wolfe supported him there Breeze pulled himself, by the aid of the rope, to the top of the ridge, where he took in the slack of the line and fastened it anew to the anchor. Hank being thus secured against sliding back into the crevice, Wolfe left him, and joining Breeze, they together drew the sufferer to the top of the ridge. Slowly and carefully they helped him down the opposite side, and at last had the satisfaction of placing him safely in the bottom of the dory.
It was now quite dark, but they could still note the position of the Vixen by the light of the “flare,” that was kept constantly burning on board for their guidance. They dreaded leaving their comparatively safe position and attempting to force their frail craft through the masses of moving ice that lay between them and the schooner. The thought of spending the night where they were was, however, still worse, and they decided to try and reach her.
As there was enough open water to row in for a while Wolfe took the oars, and Breeze busied himself with the rescued man. He rolled him in the blankets they had brought, rubbed his hands and limbs briskly, and offered him food. Hank declined this, but asked for water, saying that he was dying of thirst.
“Why didn’t you get a drink on the iceberg?” asked Breeze, in surprise. “I’m sure there was plenty of water there; or you might have eaten a bit of ice.” At the same time he got out their little keg of water and handed it to the sufferer.
“I didn’t suppose an iceberg was made of fresh ice,” replied Hank, eagerly seizing the keg and applying his lips to the bung-hole for a long drink. The next instant he dropped it, spat out the mouthful of water he had taken, and sank down in the bottom of the boat with a groan.
“What is the matter?” cried Breeze, picking up the keg. As Hank made no answer, he lifted it to his own lips and tasted of its contents. It was full of salt water.
AND THE TWO ATHLETIC YOUNG FELLOWS DREW THE ALMOST HELPLESS FORM OF THEIR SHIPMATE SLOWLY BUT STEADILY TO WHERE THEY STOOD.
There was no time then for questions or explanations, as the floes on either side of them began closing together so rapidly that the dory was in danger of being crushed between them. The boys sprang from the boat, and managed to drag it out on the ice, just as the drifting masses met with a shock that ground their edges to powder and nearly threw Breeze and Wolfe from their feet.
Then began a struggle similar to that which they had gone through in the morning, only with the danger increased a hundred-fold by the darkness. Now they dragged the dory by main strength over some great cake that lay squarely in their way, then, both in the boat, they used the oars as poles and pushed it along from piece to piece. Occasionally a submerged mass would rise beneath the boat, and it was only by the greatest activity that they prevented it from capsizing. Several times one or the other of them slipped into the icy water; but they always clung to the dory, and managed to pull themselves out.