light.

"It's an iceberg, and a big one, too, Mr. Higgins. If she strikes it,
there's an end of us!" said Captain Bottom, addressing the first
officer, who seemed indifferent to the danger that threatened the ship.
A rustling noise, as of strong tide-rips breaking ahead, was heard, the
sound increasing every minute. The braces were now manned, the order to
"go about" given, and the helm put down. But the ship had hardly begun
to gather headway on the other tack, when she refused to obey her helm.
It seemed, indeed, as if she was under the influence of a powerful
attraction, drawing her to destruction.

Another minute and she struck with a deep, crashing sound, that made
every timber in her frame vibrate, so great was the shock. A gleam of
grey light now began to spread over the fearful scene. It was daylight,
that friend which so often comes to the mariner's relief. The ship had
struck broad on, and the berg seemed to have grasped her in its arms of
death and refused to let her go. Each succeeding sea lifted the helpless
ship, and then tossed her with increasing violence against the jagged
ice-cliff. And as her yards raked the boulders, huge blocks fell with
crushing force on her deck. Stanchions were started, the bulwarks
crushed away from the knight-heads to the quarter-deck, on the port
side, and the deck stove in several places. It seemed as if there was
but a minute between those on board and death. Still the staunch old
ship forged ahead, lifting and surging with every sea, and seeming to
struggle to free herself from the grasp of the berg. All hope of saving
the ship seemed gone now. Both officers and men waited in suspense,
expecting, every lurch the ship made, to see her go to pieces.

It was one of those moments when presence of mind and seamanship seem of