CHAPTER III.


Before my dreaming eyes was the terror of a hungry, crunching tooth,
fixed in the vessel's side, that of the iceberg, lying black in the
moonlight like a great coal crystal, grimly awaiting our approach, but
the reality, as well as the figment, had disappeared when I emerged at
sunrise from the suffocating cabin, to the atmosphere of the cool and
quiet quarter-deck, which had just undergone its matutinal.

Armed with an orange and a biscuit for physical refreshment, I depended
on sea and sky for my mental entertainment; and in my hand I bore a
slender scroll, destined as a propitiatory offering to our offended
helmsman.

I was glad to find again at the wheel our pilot of yesterday.

"Your iceberg has disappeared, Mr. Garth," I said, as I extended to him
the sketch I had made of his noble _physique_ the day before, "and here
is a picture for your wife, which she will see was not drawn for fun.
Women are sharper than men about such matters. There, I bestow it not
without regret." He received my offering with a smile, and nod of his
great curly head, opened it, gazed long and seriously upon it, and, with
the single word "Good," rolled it up again, and consigned it to some
bosom pocket in his flannel shirt, into which it seemed to glide as a
telescope into its case, revealing, as he did so, glimpses of a hairy
breast, and vigorous chest, more admirable for strength than beauty,