The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1898-07-22

.ON THE evening of April IA the
~ schooner Valiant, of fProvincetown,
which had been driven northward for
several days by a sharp gale, was crop
ing blindly through the fog in an en-
deavor to get back to the fishing
grounds. The gale had forced Capt.
Fom Potter to reef down her riding sail
and run before the wind under bare
sticks, with scarcely a quintal of fish
in his bins. 1t was early in the season,
very early, indeed, and the Valiant had
been one of the first Yankee boats on
the banks.
The gale had finally shrieked away
to the north and left the banker little
the worse for the experience, only that
she was some 200 miles from her proper
berth. AS the night shut down the haze
grew thicker till it appeared like a
great smothering brown blanket about
the schooner, and the Valiant crept on,
shattering the silence now and again
with the weird grumble of her foot
power foghorn.
Not that there was serious danger of
their crossing the path of any other
craft in this lonely sea; they were even
too far north for the great liners. Capt.
Potter was not worried by the thought
of collision with sister ship. There
was another and greater danger to be
reckoned with.
A deadly, tomb-like chill permeated
the air. 1t sought them out through
the fog and breathed upon their faces
with ghostly exhalation. And it's ef-
feet upon the mems spirits was as Sc
rious as upon their bodies. Itwas chill
that struck to the heart, for the great
mariner in these northern seas now
menaced the Valiant. Somewhere in
the midst of that binding haze was an
iceberg.
With the passing of the gale light
breeze had sprung up from the north
west, and as the Valiant was running
south of west this cross current of air
was of little value to her. Sweeping
down upon the banker, driven by wind
and current, was the ice-pack; but it's
locality and nature were hidden by the
impenetrable fog. Whether berg. foe
or loose ice-pack was mystery.
A bankers experience makes men
brave. not foolhardy. The Valiant's
crew remained on deck, but they
smoked and chatted quietly. Capt. Pot
ter stood on the deck amidships and
listened. The ice does not always move
silently. and the sharp-featured Cape
Cod mans ears were keen.
But as hour after hour passed the
captain, as we'll as the crew, began to
believe the ice long way off. The
chill breath from the frozen field still
famed their cheeks, but the ice itself
seemed no nearer. The Valiant
pushed her nose more confidently into
the haze; the breeze was refreshing.
The men, doing in the shelter of the
house, were startled into activity by
cry from the lookout. Before they were
upon their feet they heard the skipper
shouting to the helmsman:
Hard down! hard DOWN."
The skipper ran aft and seized the
wheel in his own hands. The men
faces. Floating bits of ice were all
about them, crowding each other,
humping softly against the Valiapt's
hull, anon grinding beneath her sharp
keel as she slid down long, oily swell.
An insistent rustling and creaking filed
the afr. They had run into the edge Of
the ice-pack.
The schooner turned slowly upon her
heel. Her sails hung listlessly; the
breeze had suddenly and unaccount-
ably left them. The round-backed bits
of ice gambled about her like porpoises,
Occasionally sharp crack, followed by
splintering crash, sounded from out
the fog when two pieces charged each
other with vindictive force.
Each moment the pack was getting
thicker about the schooner.
Whistle for the wind, Andrew" said
Potter to the cSok.