The good ship Northland had been traveling at reduced speed several hours, and Bert, who was always intensely interested in the operation of the vessel, was quick to notice this. At supper time the speed had not increased, and accordingly Bert took the first opportunity that presented itself to ask the captain respectfully the reason for this.

“Why, it’s this way,” he was told, “we’ve been receiving wireless messages recently that there is considerable ice in these waters, and we’re going slowly in consequence. Of course, at this time of the year, we oughtn’t to have to bother about icebergs at all, but the last winter was very long and cold, and this is the result.”

“Oh, I see,” said Bert; “but how do you know when you’re in the neighborhood of an iceberg? I should imagine it would be a rather hard object to make out.”

“No, you’re wrong there,” responded the captain. “They are very easy to see, as they emit a pale sort of glimmer that makes them very prominent at night. Of course, you never have any difficulty locating them in the daytime, fortunately. And then there’s another thing: they always chill the air for a considerable distance around them, and any sailor can tell what is threatening his ship when he feels this. Oh, no, they are easy enough to avoid, as a rule. Of course, sometimes a vessel running at high speed will not get warning of the presence of the menace until it is too late, as in a fog, for instance. In that case there is generally a report of another wreck in the morning papers a few days afterward.”

“But I should think there would be a way of detecting them by means of some instrument, say, for example, with an ordinary thermometer,” said Bert.

“Well, devices of that kind have been invented and used,” replied Captain Everett, “but in these days of high speed the warning generally comes too late, unless the ship is steaming at a very slow pace.”

“Well, then, science has been able to find nothing that is much better than the old method of a watch up in the crow’s nest. Is that the idea?” questioned Bert, in a disappointed tone. He had great faith in the ability of mechanical science to solve every problem under the sun, and accordingly he was incredulous on this point.

“So far that is true,” said the captain; “but a device has recently been patented that seems to fill the bill perfectly, as far as I can see.”

“How does that work?” queried Bert.

“Well, to explain it, you would have to have a rather exhaustive knowledge of icebergs and their habits,” said the captain, smiling; “however, I will do my best to make it clear to you. You see, an iceberg, being so much colder than the surrounding water, sets up a series of currents in the ocean, that are felt for a considerable distance. The warmer water flows toward the ’berg, and the colder water away, just as in the air the warmer air will rise and the colder air rush in to take its place. Is that plain?”

“Oh, certainly, I can understand how that works, all right,” replied Bert.

“Well, in that case, you can see how simple the rest is,” said the captain. “All you have to do is construct an instrument that will be affected by these currents, and your problem is solved. Of course that is a comparatively simple matter, and the writer of the article I read claimed to have done it. His theory seemed very plausible to me, and I would be very little surprised to see every ship equipped with his device in the near future.”

“It certainly seems feasible,” agreed Bert, “in fact, it seems so simple that it’s queer someone has not thought of it before.”

“Oh, there’s nothing surprising in that, to my way of thinking,” said Captain Everett. “Many of our greatest inventions, or rather their principles, existed long before they were put to practical use. Take steam, for example. Steam has existed from the beginning of the world, with all its power and possibilities, yet it is not until a comparatively recent date that it has been harnessed and put to work. It’s the same way with electricity, or any of a thousand things you could think of.”

“Yes, there’s no doubt but what you’re right,” admitted Bert, “but just the same, it seems too bad they couldn’t have been discovered sooner. Look at the Titanic disaster, for instance. If they had had that device that you were just telling me about installed, the whole tragedy could probably have been avoided, and the world been spared a horrible disaster.”

“It certainly does seem a pity,” agreed the captain, “but then, if everything had been discovered right off, there would have been nothing left for you or me to invent, and the world would have no work left for anyone to do. There seems to be a great plan back of these things, after all.”

“It’s too bad we haven’t something of the kind on board now,” said Bert. “It might come in handy.”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” said Captain Everett, with a worried air. “I hate to lose valuable time crawling along at this pace, but of course anything is better than what might happen if we didn’t. I don’t want to cheat old Uncle Sam out of a victory by drowning all his athletes,” and here he smiled.

“Oh, it would be a terrible loss,” agreed Bert, slyly, “specially that of yours truly. That would indeed be an irreparable calamity.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” laughed the captain. “That goes without saying, Wilson.”

At this point Reddy strolled up, and joined in the conversation. His thoughts, however, dwelt more with perfecting a certain crowd of athletes for the coming Olympic games than with inventions to warn ships of their peril, or any other kind.

After a time the captain asked Reddy how his charges were coming along.

“Oh, as well as could be expected, I suppose,” growled the trainer. Secretly he was more than satisfied with their condition, but would have died rather than admit it. “They seem more inclined to exercise their jaw muscles than anything else, but otherwise they’re not so awful bad.”

“That’s rather negative praise,” laughed Bert, “but we know very well that if we weren’t all right Reddy would be exercising his ‘jaw muscles’ more than he does, so we have to be satisfied with that.”

Reddy grinned, but made no reply, and shortly afterward sauntered off. After a little further conversation with the captain, Bert followed suit, and strolled up into the bows, where a man was on lookout.

The sailor was gazing intently ahead, and did not look up at the sound of Bert’s approach, or even when he spoke to him. He knew that the safety of the whole ship and those on board rested on him, and he was taking no chances.

He answered Bert’s salutation civilly enough, however, but answered his questions only in monosyllables, and Bert soon gave him up as a bad job. He realized, moreover, that the man was right, as it was against the ship’s rules to talk while on duty.

So Bert leaned against the bulwarks in silence, having little else to do at the time, and gazed ahead in an abstracted fashion. No sound was to be heard save the wash of the water against the bows, and occasionally a shout or laugh from the athletes amidships.

Suddenly Bert was roused from his reverie by a call from the lookout.

“Ice ahead! Ice ahead!” yelled the sailor, and dashed madly toward the stern, waving his arms wildly.

Bert gazed intently ahead, and could faintly make out a luminous mass some distance from the ship, but directly in its path. He was conscious of a feeling of damp chill in the air, too, and felt that they were nearing an iceberg. Suddenly the vibration of the engines ceased, and then started again, and Bert knew they had been reversed. The ship seemed to lose little of its speed at first, though, and the huge ’berg loomed up closer and closer. The helm had been put over, and the ship swung around obediently, and so approached the ’berg at an angle. Shouts and cries arose from the crew and some of the passengers, and it was an exciting moment.

Gradually the ship lost its momentum under the reverse pull of the big propellers, but to Bert it seemed impossible that they could stop in time. Nearer and nearer they came, and the ship seemed wrapped in an icy fog. Now Bert could make out details of the ’berg, and even in such a time as this, when it seemed that he was approaching certain death, he noted idly the huge spires and needles of ice that rose into the blue sky like church steeples.

Now the good ship was almost touching the ’berg, but was at a long angle with it. Bert saw that the impact would not be as great as he had at first imagined, but nevertheless he awaited it with bated breath.

Then it came—a jarring, grinding, glancing blow, and the ship trembled from bow to stern. Huge fragments of ice clattered down on her decks, and some of her crew were badly hurt by flying ice splinters.

There was great confusion then, and a few of the crew started a rush for the boats, but were met before they could get there by Captain Everett and his first and second officers, all with revolvers in their hands.

“Back there! Back!” shouted the captain, and his ordinarily mild eyes blazed with an angry light. “The first man who moves another step forward dies! Get back to your posts, every one of you, and be glad I don’t shoot you like the dogs you are!”

Cowed by his determined demeanor, and that of the other officers, the men slunk back, and Captain Everett set about finding what damage had been done. Two sailors were sent below to inspect the hold, and the captain awaited their report with keen anxiety.

Soon the two men returned, and one said: “There seems to be nothing the matter, sir, as far as we can make out. She doesn’t seem to be taking in any water.”

“That’s well!” exclaimed the captain, after the two men had saluted and gone forward. “It’s barely possible that the ship may not be much damaged, after all, although it seems almost incredible. However, we won’t find any fault with providence if it isn’t.”

Strange as it may seem, by what appeared to be almost a miracle the ship had come off from the encounter with a few bent bow plates and the loss of considerable paint.

Before long the ship had resumed its course, and the iceberg was falling rapidly to the rear. Bert had been the only person in the vessel’s bows at the time of the collision, and he was soon encircled by a group of athletes anxious to hear the story.

“Believe me, fellows,” he said, in a sober voice, “I gave us all up for lost. I thought our goose had been cooked, sure. Why, that ’berg looked as high as a mountain to me, and if we had hit it head-on it would have been all over but the shouting. It’s a lucky thing the captain got warning in time to veer the steamer around a little.”

Everybody realized that they had had a very close escape from death, and for the rest of the day little else was talked about. It was just such a collision as had been responsible for the speedy sinking of the great liner Titanic with over two thousand souls on board. That ship had struck a glancing blow, in the same way that the Northland had, but was less fortunate as to the result. A great projecting sliver of ice had penetrated the ill-fated vessel’s hull, and within a few hours she was lying at the bottom of the sea. Indeed, at the present moment they were but a short distance from the leviathan’s last resting place, and this made them realize all the more strongly what a miraculous escape they had had.

Needless to say, every precaution was taken to insure against a repetition of their recent experience, and the ship fairly crawled along at one-quarter speed. They sighted other ’bergs at intervals, but never near enough to give them any concern, and a day or so later were safely out of the danger zone. Then Captain Everett ordered full speed resumed, and the Northland began to plow through the blue water at its customary good clip.

Training, which had been more or less interrupted by the recent exciting events, was resumed in good earnest, and everybody worked with a will to make up for lost time. Reddy had an eye for every athlete on board, and woe betide the man who was found shirking, even in the slightest degree. He was sure to be forced to make up his deficiencies, with some extra hard training “stunt” for good measure.

The second day after the encounter with the iceberg the sky became very overcast, and bore every sign of an approaching storm. The haze veiling the heavens became thicker and thicker, and the sun could be seen shining through it only at rare intervals, and then very faintly.

The barometer fell lower and lower, and there was every evidence of the approach of a severe storm. Nor were these warnings groundless, as they soon had occasion to find out.

Everything aboard ship was made ready, and no movable object on the decks was left unsecured. The athletes regarded the approach of the storm with feelings more of interest than anything else, but Reddy snorted his disgust.

“Everything’s agin’ me,” he growled. “This trip so far has been nothin’ but a bunch o’ queer experiences that you could write a story book about, maybe, but that don’t count for more than a plugged nickel when it comes to gettin’ a bunch o’ would-be athletes in shape to make better speed than the runners at a fat men’s picnic. I just get things settled down and begin to kid meself that we’re gettin’ somewhere, when we go and bump into an iceberg, or some other fool stunt o’ that kind. But if these fellers don’t cop a few lovin’ cups and medals over at the games it isn’t goin’ to be the iceberg that gets the blame, you can lay to that. Nix! Everybody’ll say, ‘Gee, I bet old Uncle Sam’s runners and jumpers would have made good if only they’d had a decent sort of a trainer along that knew a little about his job.’ That’s the line of chatter that’ll be handed out to me, all right. This trainin’ business is a thankless job, anyway, let me tell you. If the American team wins, they get all the glory and credit, but if they lose, it’s yours truly that gets the blame.”

“Aw, don’t you worry yourself about us, Reddy,” said Drake, “we’re going to win every event over there, practically, and after watching our wonderful work you ought to realize that fact,” and he grinned.

“Oh, sure,” replied Reddy, sarcastically. “If you boys win all you think you’re goin’ to win, I won’t kick. But I’m from the wilds of Missouri, and I’ve got to be shown.”

Discussion of this sort lasted until the lunch bell rang, when there was a wild dive to the tables, all disputes forgotten.

After lunch, when they returned on deck, they were surprised at the appearance of the ocean. The wind, which before they went below had been blowing in fitful gusts, had now settled down to a steady gale that was increasing in violence with every hour that passed. The sea was rising rapidly, and already was dotted here and there with whitecaps. The sun had entirely disappeared, and the sky was a dull gray color. Clouds scudded across it with terrific speed, giving an indication of the force of the wind back of them, and as the boys gazed across the tumbling waves they every one felt a thrill of something very much like apprehension.

There is something very terrifying and awe-compelling about a storm at sea, especially to those not used to it. At such time a ship seems a very small thing in the great expanse of tumbling billows and shrieking wind, and it seems almost impossible that anything constructed by man can withstand Nature’s fury.

Soon the storm became so wild that most of the passengers retired below, and many of them experienced sea-sickness for the first time on the voyage, as the ship was now pitching and rolling wildly. Bert, Dick and Tom, however, stayed on deck, and felt that nothing could hire them to go down. This was an experience such as they might not have again in many a year, and they felt inclined to make the most of it.

They stayed on deck until supper time, and then went below. Several athletes were absent from the tables, and of those who were there many ate very sparingly. Not one would admit that this was due to sea-sickness, however, and indeed, there was less of this than might naturally have been expected.

They were all in such fine physical condition that they were less affected by such an experience than the average passenger, and there were few of them who were actually “down and out.”

The storm lasted two days, but on the morning of the third day had practically blown itself out. When the three comrades went up on deck the sun was shining gloriously, but the ocean was still very rough. In a few hours it had subsided noticeably, but the great billows still ran fifteen or twenty feet high. It was a wonderful sight, and one to be remembered for a lifetime. The boys gazed spellbound, and felt they would have been contented to do nothing all day but drink in the inspiring scene.

Shortly after they got on deck the lookout cried, “Ship ho!” and the boys followed the direction of his pointing finger. At first they could make out nothing, but in a few minutes they glimpsed a vessel lifted up on the crest of a monster wave, and about a mile from their course.

As they drew nearer it became evident that the vessel was a partial or entire wreck. She had been a three-masted schooner, as they could tell from the stumps of the masts projecting from her deck, but they had all gone by the board.

One was still fastened to the ship by a mass of tangled rigging, and every once in a while would be washed against the side with a crash. The vessel was low in the water, and it was evident that she was sinking.

The Northland’s course was altered so as to bring her alongside the dismantled vessel, and the athletes, every one of whom by this time was on deck, crowded to the rail, to get a closer glimpse of the wreck.