“Hurrah!” cried Jack.  “I believe the tornado has left us!”

Indeed the roaring of the wind was less now.  The ship was no longer violently tossed.  In a few minutes the wind died away almost completely, and, aside from the rising motion, and a slight swaying, the Monarch rode on an even keel.  The danger was over.

“Is the ship safe?” called Professor Henderson from his bunk.

“All safe!” exclaimed the hunter cheerfully.  “We had a little blow, but it is all over, and the Monarch behaved like the King she is—­or, perhaps I ought to say Queen, seeing that all ships are ladies.  But how do you feel, professor?”

“I am much better,” was the answer, showing that the medicine had done its work.  “I feel hungry,” he went on.  “What time is it?”

“Six o’clock,” answered Jack, looking at the dial.

“Night or morning?”

“Morning, I guess.”

“Then we’ll have breakfast,” said the professor with a smile.

He stepped from the bunk.  As he did so there was a sudden lurch to the ship.  Then it began to sink suddenly.

“We are going down!” cried the captain.  “What has happened?”

“The gas bag is leaking again!” shouted Washington from the engine room.

CHAPTER XV

PRISONERS OF THE ESQUIMAUX

The hearts of all were filled with new terror.  They had just come safely through one danger only to fall into another.

The professor limped to the engine room.  A glance confirmed his fears.  The gas was escaping from the bag in large quantities.

“I am afraid the patch we put on has come loose,” he said.  “The tornado must have unfastened it.  Are we over land or sea?” he asked anxiously.

Jack hurried to where the sheet of thick glass was set into the floor of the cabin.  He peered down toward the ground.

“We are over land, or, at least, a big ice field,” he said, looking up.”  We must have crossed some arm of the sea, or, perhaps, a bay.”  Then, as he looked down through the window again, he gave a frightened start.  “There are people below us!” he cried.  “I can see hundreds of them!  They are waiting for us to land!”

The ship was fast settling, and, because of that fact, and for the reason that the propeller was sending it ahead, the Monarch was approaching the ice at a sharp angle.

“Stop the engines!” commanded the professor.  “Our only hope is in coming down easily.  If we strike the ice hard we are lost!”

Lower and lower sank the Monarch, like a bird with a broken wing.  In a few minutes there came a sudden jar that told the ship had struck the ice.  Then, with a swish and rustle the silk bag, emptied of gas fell on the roof of the cabins.  The Monarch had come down between two big hummocks of ice, and rested almost in a level position.