“Ef you was to see it close enough, you would find it to shine equal to the diamond on your hand; but I hope you never will, that’s all—­I hope you never will, lady!  I sot on a peak of that sort oncst myself for three days in higher latitudes than this here—­me and five others, all that was spared from the wreck of the schooner Delta, and we felt our convoy melting away beneath us, and courtesying e’en a’most even with the sea, before the merchant-ship Osprey took us off, half starved, and half frozen, and half roasted all at oncst!  Them is onpleasant rickollections, ladies, and it makes my blood creep to this day to see an iceberg in konsikence; but a man must do his dooty, whatsomever do betide.  It was in the dead of night, and Hans Schuyler had the wheel, I remember, when we went to pieces on that iceberg, all for disregarding; the captain’s orders; you see, he meant to graze it like!”

“Graze it!” almost shrieked Miss Lamarque.  “Did he think he was driving a curricle?  Graze it—­Heaven, what rashness!”

“Don’t—­don’t!  Mr. Garth,” I petitioned; “I shall never sleep a wink on this ship if you continue your narrative.”

“Do—­do!  Mr. Garth,” entreated Miss Lamarque, whose penetration showed her by this time that the pilot was only playing on our fears, for want of a better instrument for his skill.  “I quite enjoy the idea that you have actually been astride a fragment of the arctic glacier, and that we may perhaps make the acquaintance of a white bear ourselves when we get near our iceberg, or a gentle seal.  Wouldn’t you like one for a pet, Miss Harz?”

“It is very cold,” I said, digressively.  “I feel the chill of that fragment of Greenland freeze my marrow.  I must go fetch my shawl; but first reassure us, Mr. Garth, if possible.”

He laughed.  “I have paid you now for making fun of me to-day,” he said, saucily.  “I saw your drawing of me in your books, and heard the ladies laughing.  I peeped as I passed when Myers took the helm, and I wanted to see what all the fun was about; then I said to myself, ’I will give her a skeer for that if I have a chance’—­but, all the same, the chill you feel is a real one, for as sure as death that lump of darkness is an iceberg.  I have told you no yarn, as you will find out to-morrow when you ask the captain.  I’ll steer you clear of the iceberg though, ladies, never fear.  Hans Schuyler has not got the wheel to-night—­you see he was three sheets in the wind anyhow, and the captain says, ‘Hans,’ says he, ‘don’t tech another drop this night, or we’ll never see another mornin’ till we are resurrected,’ and so he turned into his hammock and swung himself to sleep—­a way he had, for he didn’t keer for nothin’ where his comfort was concerned, having been raised up in the Injies.”