"The iceberg!" cried Ben.

The old sailor pointed ahead and there, like a huge ghost drifting
toward them, was a mighty structure of ice--the first berg the boys
had ever seen. With its slow advance came another peril. The air grew
deathly cold and a mist began to rise from the chilled sea.

"Signal the Brutus!" shouted Captain Barrington, but the fires had
been extinguished on the Southern Cross when she was taken in tow, and
she had nothing to signal with but her rapid firing gun. This was
fired again and again and soon through the mist there came back the
low moan of the siren of the Brutus.

"They won't dare to put back after us in this," exclaimed Captain
Barrington, as he stood on the bridge with the boys beside him, "we
shall have to drift helplessly here till the iceberg passes or--"

"Until we are crushed," put in Captain Hazzard quietly, "wouldn't it
be as well to have the boats made ready for lowering," he went on.

"A good idea," agreed Captain Barrington. Ben Stubbs was summoned aft
and told to give the necessary orders, and soon the men were at work
clearing the life-boats in case things should come to the worst.

The mist grew momentarily denser and the cold more intense, yet so
critical was the situation that nobody thought of leaving the decks to
don warmer clothing. The fog, caused by the immense berg chilling the
warmer ocean currents, was now so thick that of the mighty berg itself
they could perceive nothing. The knowledge that the peril was
invisible did not make the minds of those on board the drifting vessel