"Pen's right!" replied Brunton; "it's tempting God!" "Tempting the devil!" replied Clifton. "I'd sooner lose my bounty money than go a step further." "We shall never get back!" said Bolton in despair. The crew had arrived at the highest pitch of insubordination. "Not a step further!" cried Wolsten. "Are you all of the same mind?" "Ay! ay!" answered all the sailors. "Come on, then," said Bolton; "let's go and find the commander; I'll undertake the talking." The sailors in a tight group swayed away towards the poop. The _Forward_ at the time was penetrating into a vast circus, which measured perhaps 800 feet in diameter, and with the exception of one entrance--that by which the vessel had come--was entirely closed up. Shandon said that he had just imprisoned himself; but what was he to do? How were they to retrace their steps? He felt his responsibility, and his hand grasped the telescope. The doctor, with folded arms, kept silent; he was contemplating the walls of ice, the medium altitude of which was over 300 feet. A foggy dome remained suspended above the gulf. It was at this instant that Bolton addressed his speech to the commander. "Commander!" said he in a trembling voice, "we can't go any further." "What do you say?" replied Shandon, whose consciousness of disregarded authority made the blood rise to the roots of his hair. "Commander," replied Bolton, "we say that we've done enough for that invisible captain, and we are decided to go no further ahead." "You are decided?" cried Shandon. "You talk thus, Bolton? Take care!" "Your threats are all the same to us," brutally replied Pen; "we won't go an inch further." Shandon advanced towards the mutineers; at the same time the mate came up and said in a whisper: "Commander, if you wish to get out of here we haven't a minute to lose; there's an iceberg drifting up the pass, and it is very likely to cork up all issue and keep us prisoners." Shandon examined the situation. "You will give an account of your conduct later on, you fellows," said he. "Now heave aboard!" The sailors rushed to their posts, and the _Forward_ quickly veered round; the fires were stuffed with coals; the great question was to outrun the floating mountain. It was a struggle between the brig and the iceberg. The former, in order to get through, was running south; the latter was drifting north, ready to close up every passage. "Steam up! steam up!" cried Shandon. "Do you hear, Brunton?" The _Forward_ glided like a bird amidst the struggling icebergs, which her prow sent to the right-about; the brig's hull shivered under the action of the screw, and the manometer indicated a prodigious tension of steam, for it whistled with a deafening noise.