It seemed that in the night and fog two monstrous peaks of ice loomed up ahead of the Kalrye, but so many miles away that the captain and crew of the schooner had no idea their boat would collide with the berg.
She had run bow on to a ledge, and with a heavy sea following her, the stiff hull of the schooner was battered into wreckage in a very few minutes. The two boats were got safely out and the crew divided. Both boats were well provisioned. The one in which the two passengers sailed with their treasure and baggage was badly managed. A billow caught up the craft and threw her broadside upon the ice.
“She vas smashed like you step on von cockroach,” groaned Karofsen. “But dark as it vos, I see all the party high and dry. They signal us with flashlight. We tell them we go for help—yes. It was the best we could do.”
“I believe you,” agreed Tom. “And if you are sure you can pick out the same berg——”
“Jes! It vos so pig a perg—yes. I could not be mistaken. And those great spires of ice, side by side! Fear not, Misder Swift, I bane sure of it.”
“Do you feel quite sure that they are still alive, Captain?” Tom asked.
“They haf food—yes. They may freeze, but they do not starve. And if they haf sense they save wreckage from the boat to make fire. Ja!”
“At any rate,” Tom said more cheerfully to his chum, “it’s a chance.”
“Well, I suppose so. But you yourself look out how you go sailing around over these icebergs. If you break a wing or a propeller or anything, and we drop on to a field of ice ourselves, we’ll be as bad off as Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor.”
From the height at which the seaplane sailed across the island, heading north now, the travelers could see a vast expanse of the Arctic sea. The sun was so low on the horizon that its beams gave little light. But the sky seemed overcast with a luminous haze and under that the sea, and what floated upon it, was clearly visible.