stayed properly hove to.
The wind struck like a cannon. It blew rocks and ice into their faces and sent up swells that tossed the boat furiously.
Stavros began yowling from the bottom of the boat. Instantly the other dogs — and Philip — joined.
“Stay low!” Sanders called out.
Colin and Jack inserted their oars into the oarlocks. For stability they extended the oars, feathering them so that the blades rested flat on the water’s surface.
“I see the Iphigenia !”Colin shouted.
He shielded his face, keeping his eyes on the place where he’d spotted the boat’s silhouette. It peeked in and out of the fog, heaving to and tossing on the waves.
As the wind increased, the clouds began to blow off.
“Where are the other two?” Mansfield shouted.
The Iphigenia had held position fast. But the Raina and the Samuel Breen were nowhere in sight.
Colin scanned the horizon until he saw two specks emerging from behind the trailing edge of the fog. “Twenty-five degrees off the starboard bow!” he yelled. “Heading for that growler!”
Both ships lay across the wind. They were being blown straight into an iceberg.
11
Andrew
February 5, 1910
“S ET THE SAIL!” CAPTAIN Barth bellowed.
“The wind must be forty knots!” Andrew replied.
“I didn’t ask for a weather report!” Barth held the tiller tightly, trying to point the boat in the direction of the Samuel Breen.
Fifty yards ahead of them, the Breen careened toward the berg. It was a small one, a growler, with maybe twenty feet showing above water. But Andrew knew that ninety percent of an iceberg’s volume lay beneath the surface.
For a boat this size, in a wind this strong, it was deadly.
Andrew braced his leg against the deck. The calf was wrapped in thick canvas and Dr. Montfort assured him it was healing well, but the pain was still excruciating.
He couldn’t dwell on it. He was one of eight on this boat. And considering that Oppenheim was deadweight, Kosta wasn’t much of a sailor, Lombardo was still weak, and Nigel was Nigel, Andrew knew he had to pull his weight.
He and Lombardo quickly unfurled the Raina ’s sail. As it caught the wind, the boat swung hard to starboard.
With a loud smack, the Raina struck a pitted chunk of old ice.
“Kosta, are you tryin’ to scuttle us?” shouted Nigel, manning the port oar.
Kosta pushed his oar against the floe. “Then vlepo! I no to see it!”
Andrew held onto the sheet, tightening and releasing it as the sail flapped in the fickle wind. The boats had been out of control since they’d hit the riptide. The men had tried to heave to, but the rudder had been useless against the storm.
The Breen ’s sail was set. Siegal and Bailey were trying to coax the boat away from the berg.
“We can’t get close this way!” Barth yelled. “I’m coming about!”
As the boat turned, Andrew released the sheet. The boom swung to port — but then it came back, as if losing confidence.
“She’s not going over in this wind!” Andrew cried out.
“Fall off and try again!”
Barth turned the tiller again and Andrew yanked the sheet tight. The sail snapped outward against the force of the gale, and after a moment they tried the tack again. This time the boom cracked as it swung about.
“The boom is separating from the mast!” Robert shouted.
“Impossible!” Nigel replied. “I secured it myself.”
Heeling hard to starboard, the boat picked up speed and began pulling alongside the Samuel Breen.
“Tighter, Winslow!” Barth said. “We’re going to collide!”
The boat jerked as it struck something below the surface.
“Ice!” Lombardo yelled.
“THIS IS INSA-A-A-ANE.” wailed Oppenheim.
They were parallel to the Breen now. Separated by thirty feet at the most. Hayes leaned out over the Breen ’s starboard gunwale, holding a stout line. “CATCH THIS.”
He flung the line hard. It soared through the air.
Robert reached out, his frame cantilevered over the sea. With his free hand,
The wind struck like a cannon. It blew rocks and ice into their faces and sent up swells that tossed the boat furiously.
Stavros began yowling from the bottom of the boat. Instantly the other dogs — and Philip — joined.
“Stay low!” Sanders called out.
Colin and Jack inserted their oars into the oarlocks. For stability they extended the oars, feathering them so that the blades rested flat on the water’s surface.
“I see the Iphigenia !”Colin shouted.
He shielded his face, keeping his eyes on the place where he’d spotted the boat’s silhouette. It peeked in and out of the fog, heaving to and tossing on the waves.
As the wind increased, the clouds began to blow off.
“Where are the other two?” Mansfield shouted.
The Iphigenia had held position fast. But the Raina and the Samuel Breen were nowhere in sight.
Colin scanned the horizon until he saw two specks emerging from behind the trailing edge of the fog. “Twenty-five degrees off the starboard bow!” he yelled. “Heading for that growler!”
Both ships lay across the wind. They were being blown straight into an iceberg.
11
Andrew
February 5, 1910
“S ET THE SAIL!” CAPTAIN Barth bellowed.
“The wind must be forty knots!” Andrew replied.
“I didn’t ask for a weather report!” Barth held the tiller tightly, trying to point the boat in the direction of the Samuel Breen.
Fifty yards ahead of them, the Breen careened toward the berg. It was a small one, a growler, with maybe twenty feet showing above water. But Andrew knew that ninety percent of an iceberg’s volume lay beneath the surface.
For a boat this size, in a wind this strong, it was deadly.
Andrew braced his leg against the deck. The calf was wrapped in thick canvas and Dr. Montfort assured him it was healing well, but the pain was still excruciating.
He couldn’t dwell on it. He was one of eight on this boat. And considering that Oppenheim was deadweight, Kosta wasn’t much of a sailor, Lombardo was still weak, and Nigel was Nigel, Andrew knew he had to pull his weight.
He and Lombardo quickly unfurled the Raina ’s sail. As it caught the wind, the boat swung hard to starboard.
With a loud smack, the Raina struck a pitted chunk of old ice.
“Kosta, are you tryin’ to scuttle us?” shouted Nigel, manning the port oar.
Kosta pushed his oar against the floe. “Then vlepo! I no to see it!”
Andrew held onto the sheet, tightening and releasing it as the sail flapped in the fickle wind. The boats had been out of control since they’d hit the riptide. The men had tried to heave to, but the rudder had been useless against the storm.
The Breen ’s sail was set. Siegal and Bailey were trying to coax the boat away from the berg.
“We can’t get close this way!” Barth yelled. “I’m coming about!”
As the boat turned, Andrew released the sheet. The boom swung to port — but then it came back, as if losing confidence.
“She’s not going over in this wind!” Andrew cried out.
“Fall off and try again!”
Barth turned the tiller again and Andrew yanked the sheet tight. The sail snapped outward against the force of the gale, and after a moment they tried the tack again. This time the boom cracked as it swung about.
“The boom is separating from the mast!” Robert shouted.
“Impossible!” Nigel replied. “I secured it myself.”
Heeling hard to starboard, the boat picked up speed and began pulling alongside the Samuel Breen.
“Tighter, Winslow!” Barth said. “We’re going to collide!”
The boat jerked as it struck something below the surface.
“Ice!” Lombardo yelled.
“THIS IS INSA-A-A-ANE.” wailed Oppenheim.
They were parallel to the Breen now. Separated by thirty feet at the most. Hayes leaned out over the Breen ’s starboard gunwale, holding a stout line. “CATCH THIS.”
He flung the line hard. It soared through the air.
Robert reached out, his frame cantilevered over the sea. With his free hand,
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