The G.A. Henty MEGAPACK ®. G.a. Henty Henty
after they showed their ugliness only too plainly.
Bob and Jack were not idle while on board. Both did their full share of work and both proved themselves good sailors.
A strong friendship sprang up between Mrs. Cromwell and Viola Sumner, and the two became almost inseparable.
Bob found Captain Sumner a fine man to get along with, stern at times, but always fair and square. He had, as he said, been a great rover, and often told interesting stories of his adventures.
As days went by and they got further north it became colder. Then a storm was encountered which took them many miles out of their course.
So suddenly did it fall upon them that the sails were blown to ribbons.
Viola Sumner, who was on deck, got drenched and nearly drowned. She was saved by Bob only at peril of his life, and carried down into the cabin nearly senseless.
And now we find the Dart storm-beaten, but still water-tight, blown far out to sea.
Bob, who had just come on deck, cast his eye first aloft, like the true sailor he was becoming, and then around him.
Not more than half a mile distant towered an immense iceberg, its topmost pinnacles glowing in the bright morning sun.
Other bergs floated to the southward, while to both east and west could be seen long floes of rugged ice.
The yacht was trying to beat to the northward by making short tacks through the ice-floes, but, as Bob could see, she made but little way.
“Have we done any good since I went below?” he asked Bok, a sailor who was steering.
“No, faith, yer honor. The current sets so fast to the south that sorra a bit more north do we make in an hour than I could throw a cat by her tail. It’s wearisome work, yer honor, and, be jabers! it’s bitterly cold.”
Bob buttoned his pilot coat closer around him and shivered.
“You are right, Bok.”
“Hullo, Bob!”
Our hero looked around and perceived Jack Larmore’s head above the companion.
“Come down to breakfast, before it’s cold,” cried Jack.
Our hero made a bolt down the ladder after his friend.
“What is your opinion, Bob, about the men?” asked Captain Sumner, as Bob took his place at the table. “I mean the rascals I had to iron up last week.”
“Well, sir,” replied our hero, “they seem to go about their duty all right, but after our experience, we must never trust them.”
“It’s that scoundrel, Nockey, that I mistrust. The others are more fools than knaves. He will never forgive that flogging I gave him.”
“It served him all right,” broke in Bob. “When we gave them the choice of taking a couple of dozen or going ashore, not one hesitated.”
“Well, even now, we have only eight hands and ourselves.”
“What do you mean to do, papa?” broke in Viola. “Surely not go further among these dreadful icebergs? I have read that ships are often crushed by them.”
“I should be only too glad to be out of these regions, dear; but, with the wind and current against us, I don’t know what to do.”
As soon as breakfast was finished the captain went on deck. His eye rested on the floe to the westward.
“Where are your eyes, you Irish lubber?” he shouted to the steersman. “Don’t you see yon ice closing in on us? You ought to have let me know of this.”
“Blest if I can see much change,” muttered Bok.
“But I can. The channel is narrowed by half. We shall never get clear of it before we are nipped. ’Bout ship, boys, and be smart!”
“All hands!” bellowed the mate.
In a couple of minutes the small crew were on deck, hauling in the ropes and halyards.
The topsail-yards swung round, the helm was put hard down.
The sails shivered in the wind as the yacht came about.
“Put both the main- and fore-sails on her, Leeks. We must be out of this trap as soon as possible,” cried the captain.
It took some time to get full sail on the Dart.
Once done, however, she flew onward, with the wind on her quarter, at a tremendous speed.
“Sixteen knots an hour! Bravo!” cried the captain. “Can’t she move, Bob?”
“That she can, sir. But I can’t help dreading this still going through the ice. There are few ships, except whalers, that have penetrated as far as we, I should think.”
“Right, sir. But desperate circumstances require desperate means. None of us want to spend a winter here, and, though we happen to be fortunate as to the time of year, another month or six weeks will see this sea covered with ice.”
CHAPTER III
Among the Icebergs
Bang! crash!
At that instant a shock nearly threw them off their feet.
Viola caught Bob’s arm, and Mrs. Cromwell and the captain almost fell together.
“We are foul of the ice!” shouted the mate, rushing forward.
“What!” roared the captain. “Where’s that rascally lookout? Down with helm! The sea is full of loose ice.”
For the rest of the day the Dart was dodging through hummocks of ice, which looked as if a floe had been broken up by a storm.
When Bob came on deck for his watch at midnight, it was intensely dark.
A thin scud shut out the light of the stars and moon.
He was joined by Jack, for the two lads usually kept watch together.
“I am afraid we are in a tight fix,” said the latter. “I doubt if we shall ever again find our way home.”
“Never say die,” cried our hero. “But look! What’s that yonder?”
The two chums peered into the darkness ahead.
“I think there is a blacker spot than the rest over the starboard bow,” said Bob, after a while.
“There are some blue signal-lights here. I’ll ignite one,” suggested Jack.
Retiring under shelter of the companionway he struck a light and ignited the blue fire.
Clambering on to the bulwarks, and holding on to the forestay with one hand, he held it above his head.
Right in front of them loomed two bergs, not a quarter of a mile apart, the sea dashing in spray along their sides.
There was not a moment for hesitation.
“Port your helm!” sang out our hero. “Keep her so!” he added, as he saw the bows of the schooner point for the narrow passage.
Jack lit another blue light, and thumped on the deck to wake those below.
In half a minute Captain Sumner and the mate were beside them.
“The bergs are closing in on us,” said the captain quietly. “Go to your helm, Bok; it will be safer.”
The bergs were more than a mile long, and the vessel, under easy sail, was not making more than six knots an hour.
“Here, gentlemen, take the halyards, and rouse up the topgallant sails. I won’t trust the crew on deck till the last minute.”
With the assistance of the man Bob had relieved at the wheel, they soon had the topgallant sails, which had been furled, chock-a-block.
“It