A mass of ice, hundreds of tons weight, was tearing down towards the bow.

There was no hope of resisting it.

Time was not even afforded to attach a buoy or log to the cable, so it was let slip, and thus the _Dolphin's_ best bower was lost for ever.
But there was no time to think of or regret this, for the ship was now driving down with the gale, scraping against a lee of ice which was seldom less than thirty feet thick.

Almost at the same moment the strange vessel was whirled close to them, not more than fifty yards distant, between two driving masses of thick ice.
"What if it should be my father's brig ?" whispered Fred Ellice, as he grasped Singleton's arm and turned to him a face of ashy paleness.
"No fear of that, lad," said Buzzby, who stood near the larboard gangway and had overheard the remark.

"I'd know your father's brig among a thousand--" As he spoke, the two masses of ice closed, and the brig was nipped between them.