They could distinctly feel the shouldering crush of the ice and the scraping as the vessel slid along. With much labor and difficulty they put the other anchor overboard and let go a good length of chain cable. Nevertheless, they drifted outward for some hours, slowly but surely. Then there came a lull in the gale. It became light again, and the wind went down rapidly. The sun struggled through the clouds that still flew overhead, and showed them that, to their astonishment, they had drifted and dragged the two anchors out well by the headland. To the northward they could see in occasional flashes of sunlight the surf leaping high on the main Arctic pack, driven back on itself, miles out. They were dangerously near the headland, but the wind was offshore, and a heavy floe lay between them and it, apparently grounded firmly at the shore end. The ship swung free in water deep enough to float her, and the open lead showed as far to the southward as the eye could see. Joe shouted with exultation, and Harry fairly danced for joy. “Hurrah!” he shouted. “We can steam south as soon as we can get the fires up. Set a signal for the Eskimos to come out and help us. Then let’s get below and fire up.” The signal was set, and ten minutes later both boys were busy below putting a fire under the boiler and getting everything in readiness for departure. It was unaccustomed work, and though they had often planned it together, there were many things over which they hesitated and were a little in doubt. Thus the time passed rapidly, and though a black smoke now poured from the Bowhead’s funnel, there was little steam on. Two hours the boys were below before they realized it, and Joe finally said with some uneasiness,— “Wonder why those fellows don’t come aboard?” “Don’t know,” said Harry. “You watch that steam gauge and I’ll go on deck and see if they are coming. Is that their boat alongside?” Something bumped and grated along the Bowhead’s side. Harry started for the deck. Then something struck the ship again, this time hard enough to jar it from stem to stern. Joe followed Harry up the ladder. As they reached the deck the most astonishing change met their eyes. The treacherous Arctic gale had veered to the north and was blowing again with unexampled fury. Where had been open water for miles the Arctic pack was now crowding down upon them. The first scouts of ice were already bumping their sides, and the roar of the wind through the rigging seemed like hoarse shouts of derision at the thought that a ship might escape its fury. They had swung up alongside the shore pack, which stood firm, and already the seaward ice was crushing against them. Working in the depths of the fire-room, they had sensed nothing of this change, and now the realization of it came upon them with stunning force.