Indeed he was not so sure but that he was already.
Pomp started the electric engines.
But they would not move the submarine boat a peg.
There it lay wedged beneath the ice with full twenty fathoms of water above.
Again at any moment the berg was apt to shift its position and crush the boat like an eggshell.
Pomp saw his deadly peril, and his face wore an expression of fearful horror and anxiety.
“Fo’ de Lor’s sake what will become of Marse Frank now?” he wailed. “I’se done got into a fix I can’t git out ob very well!”
The darky was frantic.
In vain he tried to conjure up a plan for extricating the boat.
And at the last moment, what seemed like a forlorn hope came to him.