Steering more from instinct than sight, they rowed on. To Lawrence, at that moment, the suspense was all but overpowering. Where were they going? Could they find a landing? What was the end to be?
One thing was encouraging, the waves in this place were not so wild. They no longer dashed into the boat. So with darkness hanging over them they rowed, for what seemed an endless time, but could have been only a few moments, straight on into the unknown.
And then. “Man! Oh, man! What was that?” The boat had crashed into an invisible wall.
Lawrence put out a hand. “Glass!” he exclaimed. “A wall of glass.”
“Not glass, son,” Blackie’s voice was low. “A wall of ice. The end of a glacier. This is a spot where icebergs break off. If one of them had been jarred loose by the bang of our boat—and if they had been sent tumbling by the sound of a voice—man! Oh, man! We would be lost for good and all.”
“Blackie, look!” Lawrence spoke in a hoarse whisper. “A light.”
“It’s a star,” said Blackie.
“A light,” Lawrence insisted.
“Yas, man! A light,” George agreed.
Just then the moon came out, revealing a sloping mountain side. And, close to a shelving beach was a cabin. The light shone from that cabin.