116 THE WORLD OF ICE.

Mizzle kept supplying them with a constant deluge
of hot coffee. Fred and the young surgeon, too,
worked like the rest, with their coats off, handker-
chiefs bound round their heads, and shirt-sleeves
tucked up to their shoulders.

At last the tide rose—inch by inch, and slowly, as
if it grudged to give them even a chance of escape.

Mivins grew impatient and unbelieving under it.
“T don’t think it'll rise another hinch,” he remarked
to O'Riley, who stood near him.

“Niver fear, boy. The capting knows a sight
better than you do, and he says it'll rise a fut yit.”

“Does he?” asked Grim, who was also beginning
to despond.

“Ov coorse he does. Sure he towld me in a con-
fidintial way, just before he wint to turn in last
night-—if it wasn’t yisturday forenoon, for it’s meself
as niver knows an hour o’ the day since the sun be-
came dissipated, and tuck to sitting up all night in
this fashion.”

“Shut up yer tatie-trap and open yer weather-eye,”
muttered Buzzby, who had charge of the gang; “there'll
be time enough to speak after we're off.”

Gradually, as the tide rose, the ice and the ship
moved, and it became evident that the latter was almost
afloat, though the former seemed to be only partly
raised from the ground. The men were at their
several posts ready for instant action, and gazing in
anxious expectation at the captain, who stood, watch
in hand, ready to give the word.