at its mercy.

With some difficulty the ship was warped into a place of comparative
security in the rushing drift, but it was soon thrown loose again, and
severely squeezed by the rolling masses. Then an attempt was made to set
the sails and beat up for the land; but the rudder was almost
unmanageable owing to the ice, and nothing could be made of it, so they
were compelled to go right before the wind under close-reefed top-sails,
in order to keep some command of the ship. All hands were on deck
watching in silence the ice ahead of them, which presented a most
formidable aspect.

Away to the north the strait could be seen growing narrower, with heavy
ice-tables grinding up and clogging it from cliff to cliff on either
side. About seven in the evening they were close upon the piling
masses, to enter into which seemed certain destruction.

"Stand by to let go the anchor!" cried the captain, in the desperate
hope of being able to wind the ship.

"What's that ahead of us?" exclaimed the first mate suddenly.

"Ship on the starboard bow, right in-shore!" roared the look-out.

The attention of the crew was for a moment called from their own
critical situation towards the strange vessel which now came into view,
having been previously concealed from them by a large grounded berg.

"Can you make her out, Mr. Bolton?"

"Yes, sir; I think she's a large brig, but she seems much chafed, and
there's no name left on the stern, if ever there was one."

As he spoke, the driving snow and fog cleared up partially, and the brig
was seen not three hundred yards from them, drifting slowly into the
loose ice. There was evidently no one on board; and although one or two
of the sails were loose, they hung in shreds from the yards. Scarcely
had this been noted when the _Dolphin_ struck against a large mass of
ice, and quivered under the violence of the shock.

"Let go!" shouted the captain.

Down went the heaviest anchor they had, and for two minutes the chain
flew out at the hawse-hole.

"Hold on!"

The chain was checked, but the strain was awful. A mass of ice,
hundreds of tons weight, was tearing down towards the bow. There was no
hope of resisting it. Time was not even afforded to attach a buoy or log
to the cable, so it was let slip, and thus the _Dolphin's_ best bower
was lost for ever.

But there was no time to think of or regret this, for the ship was now
driving down with the gale, scraping against a lee of ice which wa