realise the danger. No one moved, for nothing
whatever could be done.

"Everything depends, under God, on the ice easing off before we are
crushed," said the Captain.

As he spoke, the timbers of the yacht seemed to groan under the
pressure; then there was a succession of loud cracks, and the vessel was
thrust bodily up the sloping sides of the berg. While in this position,
with the bow high and dry, a mass of ice was forced against the
stern-post, and the screw-propeller was snapped off as if it had been
made of glass.

Poor Captain Vane's heart sank as if he had received his death-blow, for
he knew that the yacht was now, even in the event of escaping, reduced
to an ordinary vessel dependent on its sails. The shock seemed to have
shaken the berg itself, for at that moment a crashing sound was heard
overhead. The terror-stricken crew looked up, and for one moment a
pinnacle like a church spire was seen to flash through the air right
above them. It fell with an indescribable roar close alongside,
deluging the decks with water. There was a momentary sigh of relief,
which, however, was chased away by a succession of falling masses,
varying from a pound to a ton in weight, which came down on the deck
like cannon-shots, breaking the topmasts, and cutting to pieces much of
the rigging. Strange to say, none of the men were seriously injured,
though many received bruises more or less severe.

During this brief but thrilling period, the brothers Vandervell and
Benjy Vane crouched close together beside the port bulwarks, partially
screened from the falling ice by the mizzen shrouds. The Captain stood
on the quarter-deck, quite exposed, and apparently unconscious of
danger, the picture of despair.

"It can't last long," sighed poor Benjy, looking solemnly up at the vast
mass of the bluish-white berg, which hung above them as if ready to
fall.

Presently the pressure ceased, then the ice eased off, and in a few
minutes the _Whitebear_ slid back into the sea, a pitiable wreck! Now
had come the time for action.

"Out poles, my lads, and shove her off the berg!" was the sharp order.

Every one strained as if for life at the ice-poles, and slowly forced
the yacht away from the dreaded berg. It mattered not that they were
forcing her towards a rocky shore. Any fate would be better than being
crushed under a mountain of ice.

But the danger was not yet past. No sooner had they cleared the berg,
and escaped from