The boys tried to speak, but their words were torn from their lips by
the wind and sent scattering. In the dim light they could see the
forms of the sailors hurrying about the decks fastening additional
lashings to the deck cargo and making things as snug as possible.

Suddenly there came a shout forward, followed by a loud "bang!" that
made itself audible even above the roar of the hurricane.

The cable had parted!

Considering the mountainous seas in which they were laboring and the
violence of the storm, this was a terrifying piece of intelligence.

It meant that at any moment they might drift helplessly into some
mighty berg and be crushed like an egg-shell on its icy sides. Captain
Barrington muffled up in polar clothes and oilskins, rushed past the
boys like a ghost and ran forward shouting some order. The first and
second officers followed him.

Presently the voice of the rapid-fire gun was heard, and the boys
could see its sharp needles of white fire splitting the black night.

A blue glare far away answered the explosions. It was the Brutus
signaling her consort. But that was all she could do. In the terrific
sea that was running it would have been impossible to rig a fresh
cable. The only thing for the two ships to do was to keep burning
flare lights, in order that they might keep apart and not crash
together in the tempest.