Captain Hand kept a watchful eye on the ice pack, which had now come within a hundred fathoms, and was hurrying upon the advancing ship. The vessel was between the floe and the growler: a situation not to be escaped, as the captain had foreseen. The danger was clear: if the rush of the floe should be too great for the steamer to withstand, she would be swept, broadside on, against the berg, which, being of greater weight and depth, moved sluggishly. Stout as she was, she could not survive the collision.
The captain turned her bow to the pack; then he signalled full speed ahead. There was a moment of waiting.
"Grab the rail, b'y," said the captain.
"Ay, ay, sir!"
The floe divided before the ship; the shock was hardly perceptible. For a moment, where, at the edge, the ice was loose, she maintained her speed. But the floe thickened. The fragments were packed tight. It was as though the face of the sea were covered with a solid sheet of ice, lying ahead as far as sight carried into the night. The ship laboured. Her speed diminished, gradually, but perceptibly—vividly so! Her progress was soon at the rate of half speed. In a moment it was even slower than that. Would it stop altogether?
Archie was on the port side of the bridge. The captain walked over to him and slapped him heartily on the back.
"Well, b'y," he cried, "how do you like the sealin' v'y'ge?"
That was a clever thought of the captain! Here was a man in desperate case who could await the issue in light patience. The boy took heart at the thought of it; and he needed that encouragement.
"I knew what it was when I started," he replied, with a gulp.