"Then why not offer them a share of the gold, and a passage in the first ship we fall across? There are whalers to be met with in these seas, I believe. The rest would be simple. Once you had them off the ship there is no reason why you should abide by your promise—dead men tell no tales." And Da Silva grinned sardonically.
Cervillo shook his head.
"These men seem different to others I have met," he remarked. "They stoutly refuse to discuss terms. No, Da Silva, that will not do. Your plan of raising a false alarm seems to be the most likely. As soon as this accursed fog lifts we'll try it. It is worth the risk."
"The fog is lifting now," said the lieutenant, opening the scuttle and looking out.
Da Silva spoke truly. The belt of fog was dispersing, and already the sea was visible for a distance of nearly four hundred yards—a greyish, sluggishly heaving expanse dotted here and there with masses of floating ice of various shapes and sizes.
"Then we'll make our preparations, Da Silva. Please warn the crew that a false alarm is to be raised, and order them to muster aft with rifles and revolvers."
While the lieutenant was carrying out his chief's instructions Juan Cervillo made his way to the fore-bridge. It was now sufficiently clear to see a considerable distance. The Independencia was floating idly in an almost circular basin of mountainous masses of ice, some of the jagged peaks rising four hundred feet or more in the air. Had she been steaming she would have rammed the floating ice-barrier again. The only way of escape was to turn and run southward, between the horns of the almost encircling field of ice. To Cervillo's heated imagination it seemed as if the surrounding bergs were already converging to imprison the partially crippled cruiser.
Apart from the peril the grandeur of the scene was almost beyond description. The sun, that even at midday was low in the heavens, was still hidden behind the pinnacles of the berg, its feeble rays gilding the minaret-like projections, and causing them to scintillate gorgeous shafts of light. At frequent intervals masses of ice, slipping from the gradually melting mountain, would descend with a rumble resembling thunder, crash into the sea amid a cauldron of foam, or splash into fragments against a lower projection on the face of these stupendous precipices. A vessel coming within reach of these Titanic missiles would be instantly pulverised.
Cervillo realised the danger. All thought of carrying out his plans for the capture of Fielding and his companions must, for the time being, be set aside. The escape of the cruiser from the ice prison that threatened her must be the first consideration.
With great difficulty the engineers and stokers performed their tasks, and at a leisurely five knots the Independencia headed for the open sea. Every now and again one of her propellers would drive its blades into a mass of ice, the jar sending a quiver through the ship, till Cervillo, fearing that the two outside propellers might be irreparably damaged, ordered steam to be shut off from the cylinders actuating them, keeping the two inside "screws," which were partially protected by a twin rudder, revolving at a comparatively low rate barely sufficient to give the vessel steerage way.