It made a vast difference, for the storm now began to gradually gain upon the ice ship.
The cloud was only a mile behind them.
“What a misfortune!” muttered Frank, in disgust.
“Kain’t we rig a new sail, honey?” asked the coon.
“We couldn’t,” replied the doctor. “We haven’t got strength enough. The wind would tear the canvas from our hands.”
Just then a shower of small icy lumps carried on in advance of the storm struck the boat.
It rattled against her like a volley of bullets.
Pelted all over, Frank and his companions were obliged to run into the turret for protection.
The missiles flying through the frozen sky in back of the first ones were very large.
As the Ranger continued to lose ground she now began to get pelted with these lumps.