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.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81