“What do you want to see?” I asked, observing that he was peering into the darkness ahead.
“Anything that happens to be in our way, Charley,” he answered. “An island, ship, or an iceberg; it would not be pleasant to run our jib-boom against either of the three.”
“What is that, then?” I asked, my sharp eyes observing what I took to be a high white wall rising out of the sea.
“Down with the helm!” shouted Dick at the top of his voice. “An iceberg ahead!”
“Brace up the yards!” cried the officer of the watch from aft.
The mast-heads seemed almost to touch the lofty sides of a huge white mountain as we glided by it.
“In another half-minute we should have been on the berg, if it hadn’t been for you, Charley,” said Dick, when we had rounded the mountain, and were leaving it on our quarter. “I’ll back your sharp eyes, after this, against all on board.”