the German's body, and sat, with my head
bowed upon my knees, brooding. Exhausted
nature yielded, and I fell asleep.
When I awoke, it was broad daylight. At
first, I gazed around me with astonishment,
as one usually does after sleeping in a
strange place, and then proceeded to examine
the iceberg. We had been reposing in a
small valley, surrounded on every side but the
one from which I had entered, by steep rocks
of slippery ice, from sixty to eighty feet in
height. We were thus completely sheltered
from the piercing wind, while even the dash of
the breakers was barely distinguishable. I
advanced a few paces along the path of ingress,
for the purpose of viewing the ocean, and there
found Schlafenwohl ensconced in a corner,
industriously combing out his flaxen beard, by
the aid of a pocket mirror stuck in a crevice
of the icy rocks. He was singing Kennst du das
Land, and saluted me with cheerful calmness.
We breakfasted on a couple of sardines and
half a biscuit, slaking our thirst at one of the
numerous rills which trickled down the slowly
melting rocks. There was something alarming
in the idea of thus making a beverage of the
house we lived in. Every gallon of water that
welled away, represented some six cubic inches
of our fragile habitation. If this liquefaction
took place in those high southern latitudes, with
the temperature scarcely over forty degrees,
how rapidly would our floating ark dissolve as
we approached the line! If, on the other hand,
we drifted antarctically, we ran the risk of
being hopelessly frozen up, in regions far
beyond the haunts of any human creature. These
terrible reflections passed through my mind
while I was manufacturing, with the assistance
of a pocket-knife and the lid of a deal box, a pair
of sandals to protect my feet from the chilling
surface of the ice. This task completed,
I proposed to Schlafenwohl that we should
ascend the rocks for the purpose of further
ascertaining the extent of the iceberg. He
assented, and, after two hours' hard work,
principally spent in cutting steps for our feet
with our knives, we gained the summit.
The panorama was grand in the extreme.
We were full three hundred feet above the
surface of the sea, which extended in every
direction around us, studded at intervals with
icebergs of every imaginable shape and size.
Our own island was about a mile in circumference,
and presented a series of ridges and
valleys, at irregular distances. We stood, as
it were, in the centre of a gigantic starfish,
whose seven rays were represented by
seven rocky backbones, between each of which
lay a deep and sheltered valley. The wind blew
with great violence at the exposed point where
we stood, and, as I have not a remarkably steady
head, I did not care to venture too near the
edge of any one of the seven abysses below.
But the German insisted on it.
"Mr. Monkhouse," said he, " I vish you
vould look over into our valley."
"Why?"
"I tink somebody, in our absence, may be
plondering our prog-box."
"Nonsense!" I answered. "You talk as if
you were on the top of the Righi."
"Vell, my friend, you vill oblige me by doing
it. I am too stout to venture."
I crawled on my hands and knees until my
face hung immediately over a perpendicular
descent of three hundred feet. To my astonishment,
I beheld two human figures actively
engaged in examining the contents of our
invaluable chest.
I reported progress to Schlafenwohl, who
became frightfully agitated. He gave vent
to sundry Teutonic imprecations, and
descended the face of the cliff in the most
reckless manner, reaching the bottom some seconds
before myself.
When I arrived, I heard voices engaged in
loud altercation.
"Vy, you Tom Vite, you are no better dan
a tief. Dat is my box."
"That ain't your private bread," replied
Tom, holding up a biscuit. "That's ship
bread. Ain't it, Bill Atkins?"
"Aye," said Atkins. " Besides, you'd never
go for to keep all this tucker to your own
cheek. Why, there's a parcel of women and
children in the next hollow to this, as has had
no breakfast yet."
"What! More people saved?" I exclaimed.
"Of course there is," said Tom; "when the
iceberg drifted alongside, me and Bill here stood
on the bulwarks as the ship heeled over, and
passed the passengers in as nicely as if we was
off Blackwall Pier. There may be a lot more,
for aught I know, in the t'other walleys. I've
been busy navigating the ship."
"Navigating de sheep!" cried Schlafenwohl,
"vot do you mean?"
"Why, I've got a pocket-compass here, and
I've been heaving the log," said Tom. "We're
steering nor'-east-and-by-north, and going thirteen
knots. If this breeze lasts four-and-twenty
hours, we shall go smack into the Falkland
Islands."
"What has become of the skipper, Tom," I
asked, "and of the other officers?"
"I don't know," answered Tom; "they may
be aboard the berg, and they mayn't. Anyway,
I'm the only able seaman in her that I know of,
so I've took the command."
The adventures of the last few hours had
altered Tom White considerably for the better.
From a grumbling sulking discontented fellow,
he had been transformed into a smart active
energetic commander. I verily believe he looked
upon the iceberg as an actual ship, and so—
barring masts, sails, and rudder—she was.
"Now, Mr. Monkhouse," continued Tom,
"you'll please take your orders from me.
I can see you're a sharp chap, by the way
you've made them ice-shoes and cut them steps
in the rock-face. Go up to the mast-head,
and see what you can make of the other valleys.
The next one to this, I know all about; that's
my head-quarters."
Dickens Journals Online