nd, at mercy of the swell, drifting
dead to leeward at every heave! ... On the other tack, perhaps? There
was a misty gap to the south of us; no 'ice-blink' there! ... If she
could be put about? ... No, there was no chance! ... To gather speed
to put her about he would have to bear off towards the brightening
sheen! Already the roar of the swell, lashing at the base, was loud in
our ears! ... There was no room! No sea-room to wear or stay!

"Embayed!" he said bitterly, turning his palms up! ... "All hands aft
and swing th' port boat out!"

The port boat? The big boat? Had it come, so soon, to that? More
than one of us cast an anxious look at the broad figure of our Master
as we ran aft. He stood quite still, glaring out at the ice ring.

"This is it, eh!" he muttered, unheeding the stir and cries of us.
"This is it--after forty year!"

Madly we tore and knifed at the lashings, working to clear the big
boat. She was turned down on the skids (the fashion of thrifty
'limejuicers'), bound and bolted to stand the heavy weather. We were
handless, unnerved by the suddenness of it all, faulty at the task.
The roar of breaking water spurred us on.... A heave together! ....
Righted, we hooked the falls and swayed her up. The Mate looked aft
for the word. "Aye," said the Old Man. "Oot wi' her, an' try tae tow
th' heid roun'! On th' ither tack we micht----" He left the words
unfinished! Well he knew we could never drag three thousand tons
against that swell!

A wild outcry turns our eyes forward. Dago Joe (forgotten on the
lookout) is running aft, his precious horn still slung from his
shoulders. "_Arretto! Arretto! Arretto!_" He yells as he runs.
"_Arretto, Capitan!_" waving his arms and signing to the Old Man to
stop the ship! Behind him, over the bows, we see the clear outline of
a small berg--an outflung 'calf' of the main ice! There is no time!
Nothing can be done! Small as the berg is--not the height of our lower
yards--it has weight enough to sink us, when aided by the heaving swell!

"Quick with th' boat, there," yells the Old Man! He runs over to the
companion-way and dives below, jostling the Second Mate, who is
staggering up under a weight of biscuit bags.

In a moment we have closed with the ice and are hammering and grinding
at the sheer glistening wall. At the first impact the boom goes with a
crash! Then fore-to'gallant mast--yards--sails--rigging--all hurtling
to the head, d