CHAPTER XVII

AN ENCOUNTER WITH ICEBERGS

"Off at last, Chet!"

"Yes, and your Uncle Si didn't stop you, either!" responded Chet, with a broad grin.

"If only we could have seen him when he got to the cabin!" exclaimed Andy. "I'll wager he was mad!"

"Well, boys, it will be a long while before you see the United States again," remarked Barwell Dawson as he came up. "So use your eyes for all they are worth."

"Just what we are doing," answered Andy.

The _Ice King_ had cast off her lines quarter of an hour before, and a steam tug had headed her out of the harbor of Rathley. Now, under the steam of her own powerful engines, she was heading straight out into the Atlantic Ocean.

It was an ideal day, and the boys were in the best of spirits, even though they were leaving their native land for the first time. Chet was full of the hope that in some manner he would hear something about the missing whaler and his father.

The _Ice King_ was loaded "to the brim," as Andy expressed it. Below, every available space was filled with provisions and other necessities, and coal, and on deck many bags of coal were piled up amidships.

"To get through the ice, the ship must have a good head of steam on," said Mr. Dawson. "And to have that, we've got to have coal, or oil."

"How soon do you suppose we'll strike ice?" questioned Chet.

"Oh, any time after we round the coast of Nova Scotia."

At the last moment some extra supplies had come on board, and these were still awaiting proper distribution. The boys watched land slowly disappear in the blue haze of distance, and then set to work to assist in making everything ship-shape.

"It will seem queer to live on a ship, I'm thinking," said Chet.

"I hope we don't get sick," answered his chum.

"Oh, I don't think we shall."

"Don't be too sure."

The boys had already become acquainted with the other members of the party, Dr. John Slade, a quiet but friendly gentleman, who had once spent two years in lower Greenland, and Mr. Samuel Camdal, an old hunter, who had shot with Barwell Dawson in the far West and in Africa. Mr. Camdal could tell some famous stories,--of hunting, and of narrow escapes from wild animals,--and the lads felt that he would make good company during the days when there was not much to do.

It was a real pleasure for the lads to put their stateroom in order. Although the room was small, it had a homelike air about it that was pleasing. Neither lad was burdened with excess baggage, so they were not as crowded as they might otherwise have been.

The course of the _Ice King_ was to be up the coast of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, and then into Davis Strait, to Baffin Bay. The boys had studied the chart thoroughly, for a sea trip was altogether a novelty to them.

"Shall we stop anywhere along the coast of Greenland?" asked Chet, of Barwell Dawson.

"Yes, I have arranged to stop at Upernivik, for an extra supply of coal which a collier from the lower coast is to bring up for us."

"How long do you suppose we'll be at Upernivik?"

"Two or three days at least--perhaps a week."

"And can Andy and I go ashore?"

"Certainly. But it is only a small settlement, and you won't find much of interest."

"I wanted to make inquiries about the _Betsey Andrews_."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'll help you, Chet. But don't be too sanguine. You may not hear a word of the whaler."

"I want to do all I can to hear from my father."

"I don't blame you. I'd be that way myself, if my father were missing."

In a few hours the _Ice King_ was out on the broad Atlantic. The long swells made the steamer roll a good deal, and soon the two boys felt this in their legs, and then in their stomachs. Each looked at the other in a woe-begone manner.

"What's the matter?" asked Andy.

"Nothing," returned Chet, manfully striving to overcome a feeling he could not subdue. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing much, only--I--I feel sort of crawly inside."

"You're seasick, Andy!"

"How about yourself?" retorted Andy, and he made a movement toward the side of the steamer.

"I guess I--I am--with--you!" gasped Chet, and also ran for the rail.

After that, the two chums lost all interest in living for several hours. They felt as miserable as a person with a dose of seasickness can feel. They remained on deck for a while, and then sought the seclusion of their stateroom. Here Dr. Slade came to their assistance.

"Two more down, eh?" said the physician, with a little smile. "Well, I'll do what I can to fix you up," and he brought forth his medicine case.

"Wh--who else is sick?" asked Andy. In seasickness, "misery loves company" every time.

"Mr. Camdal and Ben Haven, the first mate."

"The first mate?" queried Chet, between his groans. "Do sailors get sick?"

"Some of them do. I know the captain of an ocean liner who has crossed the Atlantic forty or fifty times. He told me confidentially that he is sick about every third or fourth voyage. It's just the condition his stomach happens to be in."

"Then it isn't so--so babyish after all," said Chet, and that gave him a grain of comfort.

The doctor did what little he could for the two lads, and by noon the next day they felt quite like themselves. Let me add, that during the remainder of the voyage they were not seasick again.

Although well weighted by her heavy cargo, and by the extra planking on her sides, and extra bracings inside, the _Ice King_ made good time on her trip. It was summer, yet as the vessel turned northward it became colder daily, and soon the boys were glad enough to take Barwell Dawson's advice and don heavier underwear. Then, as it grew still colder, they put on thicker outer garments also.

"I think we'll see some icebergs soon," announced Captain Williamson, one evening. "I can feel 'em in the air," and he threw back his head to take in a deep breath. Many old sailors who have been in northern waters affirm that they can often "smell" icebergs before the bergs can be seen.

The boys retired as usual that night, and slept soundly until about five o'clock in the morning, when a tremendous thump on the vessel's side aroused them and threw Chet sprawling on the floor.

"For goodness' sake! what's that!" gasped the lad, as he scrambled up.

Before Andy could speak there came another tremendous thump, which added to their alarm. A series of smaller thumps followed. On deck they heard Captain Williamson giving a series of rapid-fire orders.

"I think I know what's up!" cried Andy, at last, as he donned his clothing with all possible speed. "We've struck some floating ice."

"That must be it," answered Chet, and he, too, began to dress with dispatch.

When the youths reached the deck, a cry of astonishment burst from their lips. It seemed as if during the night the _Ice King_ had entered another world. On all sides were large and small cakes of floating ice, and in the distance half a dozen big icebergs loomed up.

"Looks as if we were getting to the North Pole fast," remarked Andy, grimly.

"Phew! but it's cold!" added Chet, as he buttoned his clothing tightly about him.

"Well, boys, how do you like this?" sang out Barwell Dawson, as he noticed them.

"Got into it kind of sudden like, didn't we?" asked Chet.

"I think so, although the captain said last night to expect it."

"Shall we have this all the way up now?" asked Andy.

"Hardly. I think, and so does Captain Williamson, that there is clear water beyond."

The captain was on deck with his glass, scanning the ocean ahead anxiously. Several large icebergs appeared to be drifting directly toward the steamer, and he gave orders that the course be changed slightly.

"The _Ice King_ won't mind the small ice," said he, "but there is no sense in trying the big bergs, yet. We'll get all we want of that later."

"Right you are, sir," responded Barwell Dawson. "Don't take any chances when they are not necessary."

After watching the ice for a while the boys went below for breakfast. At the table they sat down with Professor Jeffer and Dr. Slade.

"I am going to try to get some photographs of the icebergs," said the professor. "I trust we get close enough to them to get some good views."

"They ought to make good pictures," responded the doctor.

All the while the boys were eating, the small cakes of ice thumped against the sides of the steamer. But this did no damage, although, as the professor explained, there was danger of some ice getting caught in the propeller.

"And we can't afford to have that damaged," he added.

When the boys came on deck again, they saw that the _Ice King_ was much closer to several of the large icebergs. In fact, the steamer appeared to be picking her way through a veritable field of floating ice.

"It is much thicker than the captain expected," said Barwell Dawson, gravely.

"Is there any danger?" asked Andy, quickly.

"There is always danger when so much ice is floating about. But we hope to get through all right."

The lads could readily see that not only Mr. Dawson, but also the captain, mate, and sailors were much concerned. Captain Williamson still had his glass in use, and was scanning the sea ahead.

"I think we can make it," he said to Mr. Dawson. "But it is going to be a tight squeeze."

"Well, we don't want such a tight squeeze that we get our ribs stove in," answered the explorer.

"Are we going to pass between the icebergs yonder?" asked Chet.

"We'll have to--to reach the clear sea beyond," answered the captain.

The speed of the steamer had been reduced, and the course again changed. They were pushing away from one of the big bergs that seemed to tower up into the sky like some giant of the polar regions.

"If that iceberg hit us, it would knock us to flinders," was Chet's comment, as he viewed the oncoming mass.

On one side of the ship were the icebergs, and on the other the floating cakes, the latter growing thicker every minute. The _Ice King_ was turned into the floating cakes, which thumped and bumped loudly on the bow and sides. Then came an unexpected crashing from the stern.

"What's that?" cried the mate, who was at the wheel, steering under Captain Williamson's directions.

"Ice in the propeller!" answered a sailor.

As he spoke the engine stopped, and in a twinkling the steamer swung around until her bow pointed directly toward the big iceberg.

"Look! look!" yelled Andy. "We are going to be hit, sure!"

"If we are, we are doomed!" echoed Chet.

Before anything could be done the big iceberg came drifting on them, slowly and majestically, a very mountain of crystal-like whiteness. So terrible was it that it fascinated the boys, who could do nothing but stare in commingled wonder and horror. An upper mass of the iceberg hung over the top, as if ready to fall and crush the steamer beneath it.

A moment passed--to the lads it seemed an eternity,--and then the big iceberg scraped the side. There was a strange grinding and crashing, and some pieces of ice came showering on the deck. Then the steamer began to rock, and some of the shrouds became entangled in the mass that overhung the deck. The _Ice King_ commenced to move backward.

"We are being carried along by the iceberg!" cried Barwell Dawson, and his words told the truth of the awful situation.