d sunk.

CHAPTER IV.

ALONE ON THE LIFE RAFT.

Anything less buoyant than a modern life raft, consisting of two steel
cylinders stoutly braced and connected by a wooden platform, would have
been drawn under by the deadly clutch of that swirling vortex. No open
boat could have lived in it for a minute; and even the raft, spinning
round and round with dizzy velocity, was sucked downward until it was
actually below the level of the surrounding water. But, sturdily
resisting the down-dragging force, its wonderful buoyancy finally
triumphed, and as its rotary motion became less rapid, Cabot sat up and
gazed about him with the air of one who has been stunned.

He was dazed by the awfulness of the catastrophe that had so suddenly
overwhelmed the "Lavinia," and could form no idea of its nature. Had
there been a collision? If so, it must have been with the iceberg, for
nothing else had been in sight when he went below. Yet it was
incredible that such a thing could have happened in broad daylight.
The afternoon had been clear and bright; of that he was certain, though
his surroundings were now shrouded by an impenetrable veil of fog.
Through this he could see nothing, and from it came no sound save the
moan of winds sweeping across a limitless void of waters.

What had become of his recent companions? Had they gone down with the
ship, and was he sole survivor of the tragedy? At this thought the lad
sprang to his feet, and shouted, calling his friends by name, and
begging them not to leave him; but the only answer came in shape of
mocking echoes hurled sharply back from close at hand. Looking in that
direction, he dimly discerned a vast outline of darker substance than
the enveloping mist. From it came also a sound of falling waters, and
against it the sea was beating angrily. At the same time he was
conscious of a deadly chill in the air, and came to a sudden
comprehension that the iceberg, to which he attributed all his present
distress, was still close at hand.

Its mere presence brought a new terror; for he knew that unless the
attraction of its great bulk could be overcome, his little raft must
speedily be drawn to it and dashed helplessly against its icy cliffs.
This thought filled him with a momentary despair, for there seemed no
possibility of avoiding the impending fate. Then his eyes fell on a
pair of oars lashed, together with their metal rowlocks, to the sides
of his raft. In another minute he