Part 19 (1/2)

”But no,” she murmured, ”there it is again. They have come for us. They have found us!”

She wanted to scream, to tell the other girls that help was near, but ”No, no!” she decided, ”not too soon. It might not be. If it is, they'll see us. The O Moo stands well out of the water.”

To still her wildly beating heart, she allowed her gaze to wander off to the right.

Instantly she blinked her eyes.

”It can't be,” she exclaimed, then, ”Yes it is--it is! Another.”

Turning once more to the left, she found still another surprise. Two of them off there.

Fear began to a.s.sail her. Her forehead grew cold. Her hands trembled. Was it, after all, a false hope?

She had but a moment to wait. Then she knew. The fog had lifted slightly.

She could see farther, could tell what was closing down upon them.

The shock was too much for her. She sank limply to the deck. It was as if she had been wandering in a fog on a rocky hillside searching for sheep, had thought she saw them coming out of the fog, only to discover that the creatures she saw were prowling wolves. The white bulks on the surface of the water were not boats searching for them but cakes of ice. And these, there could be no doubt about it, were fast closing in upon the O Moo.

With the water still heaving, this meant danger--might indeed mean the destruction of their craft.

”I ought,” she struggled to her feet, ”I ought to tell the girls.”

Yet she did not tell them. What was the use? she reasoned. There was nothing to do but wait, and that she could do very well alone.

There is something awe-inspiring about the gathering of great bodies of ice which have been scattered by a storm. They come together as if each had a motor, an engineer and a pilot on board. And yet their coming is in absolute silence. If one cake chances to touch another, the contact is so slight that there is no sound.

And so they a.s.semble. Coming from all points of the compa.s.s, they reunite as a great fleet might after a mighty and victorious battle.

The O Moo chanced to be in the very midst of this particular gathering.

As Florence watched she was thrilled and fascinated. Now the surface was a field of blue cloth with a white patch here and there. Now the white covered half, now two-thirds, now three-fourths of the field. And now a cake brushed the hull of the yacht ever so gently.

Suddenly she realized that a strange thing had happened. The water which had been rolling had ceased to roll.

”The ice did that,” she whispered. ”Perhaps it's not dangerous after all.”

She watched until the cloth of blue had been almost completely changed to one of white, then burst into the cabin.

To her unbounded surprise, she found her companions sitting on Lucile's berth with wrapt attention staring out of the window.

”Isn't it wonderful!” whispered Lucile.

”I--I thought it would be terribly dangerous,” said Florence.

”Not now,” said Marian. ”It may be if we come to sh.o.r.e and the wind crowds the ice, but even then we'll be safe enough. We can escape over the ice to sh.o.r.e. Only,” she added thoughtfully, ”in that case the O Moo will be crushed. And that would be too sad after she has carried us through the storm so bravely.”

Florence still looked puzzled.

”You see,” smiled Marian, ”Lucile and I have been in the ice-packs on the Arctic, so we know. Don't we, old dear?” She patted Lucile on the shoulder.

”Uh--huh,” smiled Lucile as she settled back on her pillow.