Before anything could be done the big iceberg came drifting on them, slowly and majestically, a very mountain of crystal-like whiteness. So terrible was it that it fascinated the boys, who could do nothing but stare in commingled wonder and horror. An upper mass of the iceberg hung over the top, as if ready to fall and crush the steamer beneath it. A moment passed--to the lads it seemed an eternity,--and then the big iceberg scraped the side. There was a strange grinding and crashing, and some pieces of ice came showering on the deck. Then the steamer began to rock, and some of the shrouds became entangled in the mass that overhung the deck. The _Ice King_ commenced to move backward. "We are being carried along by the iceberg!" cried Barwell Dawson, and his words told the truth of the awful situation. CHAPTER XVIII SHOOTING WILD GEESE It was certainly a time of extreme peril, and the boys realized it fully as well as did the men. The steamer was caught in the grip of the big iceberg, and the deck was directly beneath an overhanging portion that might at any time break off and crush the vessel and all on board. Captain Williamson had run aft to learn what could be done with the propeller, and he had already told the mate to get the sailors out with fenders to save the ship as much as possible from chafing on the side of the berg. "The loose ice on the other side helps to keep us against the big berg," said Barwell Dawson. "I have tried to get some pictures, but the big iceberg is too close," came from Professor Jeffer, who was as cool as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Well, we're going to get away from it mighty quick,--if we can," answered Mr. Camdal, pointedly. The close quarters did not suit him any better than it suited Mr. Dawson and the boys. To clear the propeller a man had to be hoisted over the stern in a sling. He carried with him a pickpole, and with this dug out the cake which had become caught in the blades of the propeller. This work had hardly been accomplished when another grinding sound came from the big iceberg, and a shower of small ice came down on the forecastle, knocking out several lights of glass. Andy was struck on the head and hurled flat. "Oh, Andy, are you hurt?" cried Chet, in alarm, as he rushed to his chum's assistance. "Not much, but that was a pretty good crack," was Andy's reply, as he felt his head where a lump was rapidly rising. "You boys had better go below," said Barwell Dawson. "You can't do anything up here, and you may get a worse dose next time." But the lads were loath to retire, and so lingered on the deck, but took good care to keep out of the way of the ice that fell a little later.