Chapter XX. “Unmerciful Disaster“

           Inthemorning,afterbreakfast,itwasdecidedthatthemenshouldbegintodigaslopingbedwhichwouldallowtheHalbranetoslidetothefootoftheiceberg.WouldthatHeavenmightgrantsuccesstotheoperation,forwhocouldcontemplatewithoutterrorhavingtobravetheseverityoftheaustralwinter,andtopasssixmonthsundersuchconditionsasoursonavasticeberg,draggednonecouldtellwhither?Oncethewinterhadsetin,noneofuscouldhaveescapedfromthatmostterribleoffates—dyingofcold.

           Atthismoment,DirkPeters,whowasobservingthehorizonfromsouthtoeastataboutonehundredpacesoff,criedoutinaroughvoice:“Lyingto!”

           Lyingto?Whatcouldthehalf-breedmeanbythat,exceptthatthefloatingmasshadsuddenlyceasedtodrift?Asforthecauseofthisstoppage,itwasneitherthemomenttoinvestigateit,nortoaskourselveswhattheconsequenceswerelikelytobe.

           “Itistrue,however,”criedtheboatswain.“Theicebergisnotstirring,andperhapshasnotstirredsinceitcapsized!”

           “How?”saidI,“itnolongerchangesitsplace?”

           “No,”repliedthemate,“andtheproofisthattheothers,driftingon,areleavingitbehind!”

           And,infact,whilstfiveorsixicebergsweredescendingtowardsthesouth,ourswasasmotionlessasthoughithadbeenstrandedonashoal.