"
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 was
seldom less than thirty feet thick. Almost at the same moment the
strange vessel was whirled close to them, not more than fifty yards
distant, between two driving masses of thick ice.
"What if it should be my father's brig?" whispered Fred Ellice, as he
grasped Singleton's arm and turned to him a face of ashy paleness.
"No fear of that, lad," said Buzzby, who stood near the larboard gangway
and had overheard the remark.
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