Fifty yards farther on the vessel's keel grated heavily. She had grounded upon the ice floor of the inlet. Yet her way still carried her forward.
The ice appeared to give under the grinding mass of steam-propelled hull, yet, after scraping along for nearly her own length, the Polarity began to hang up. The water was shoaling with considerable rapidity.
In place of the unimpeded motion of the ship in the open sea, was that lifelessness which seamen know and dread. The Polarity was no longer water-borne, but on the point of being hard and fast aground.
Captain Stormleigh knew full well that once the ship's way was stopped she would never be able to get off again under her own efforts. He promptly telegraphed below for full speed ahead.
Under the action of the twin screws churning the water to the utmost capacity of the powerful engines, the Polarity scraped and ground her way for another fifty yards. Then, without warning, her bows dipped sharply, her whole fabric seemed to tremble as if on a balance, and, gliding with quickened pace, she slid into deep water.
"Look!" exclaimed Guy to his chum, as the Polarity drew away from the dangerous iceberg.
He pointed to a gently shelving part of the ice-mountain quite two hundred feet above the sea. On it was a large polar bear, standing with paws outstretched and neck extended as rigid as a marble statue.
"It's dead!" declared Leslie. "Frozen to death, by the look of it. I wonder how it got on the berg?"
"No fear, it's not dead!" said his companion. "You can just——"
The sentence was interrupted by a warning shout from some of the crew. The whole berg was in the act of toppling over.