The night of June twelfth, about eleven o'clock, just after having retired, but being still awake, I heard a sudden and piercing scream. The English madam with me, being still dressed, rushed upon deck to find out the cause of the disturbance. Rushing towards her with pale and frightened face was her daughter who had been lunching in the dining salon. An iceberg of immense proportions and greater height than usual had struck the ship with a crash, coming up suddenly and most unexpectedly from underneath the fog bank so that the watchful pilot was taken unawares. The English girl said the berg, when alongside the ship, reached the height of the upper deck and appeared like a huge mountain of ice from her place at the window. It was consternation at the sight of what was apparently sure and speedy destruction which had caused the woman's scream. Investigation was immediately made of the ship's plates, which, though considerably dented by the ice, were still, thanks to a kind Providence, intact; and again I settled myself for the night and slept. Next day men were restless. They wanted to be on their way to Nome. It was not for this that they had paid a large price for their tickets and assurances that they would arrive early at Nome; and they agreed that there was no more danger in steaming ahead than in lying anchored with the ice bumping into us and liable to break through the ship's sides at any moment. "Will you sign a petition to the captain asking that he proceed on his way to Nome without further delay?" asked a friend of me while the "St. Paul" was anchored and the ice still drifting around us. "They are circulating such a petition, and have a good many signers, or those who are willing to sign it, and I wanted to know how you feel about it," said my friend. "What is the matter with the captain? Did they not announce their confidence in him by coming aboard this steamer, and has he done anything to cause them to lose faith in his ability to pilot them safely through? Has he not brought them on their voyage thus far without accident?" I asked. "Oh, yes, certainly." "Then I, for one, shall abide by the captain's judgment, and remain anchored here so long as he sees fit to order it. You can say to the others that I will sign no petition," said I. Whether my decision and firmness in the matter had any weight with others, I know not; but the petition was dropped, and the captain probably never knew that such a thing had been proposed.