ed
mechanically at the oars belonged rather to the boat than to me.

Saturated at last, if not satiated, with seeing, I glanced at the
water-level, and said,--

"But see how the surge is heaving against it!"

But now it was I that spoke to stone, though not to a silent one.

"Hang the surge! I'm here for an iceberg, not to be balked by a bit of
surf! It's not enough to see; I must have my hand on it! I wish to touch
the veritable North Pole!"

It was pleasant to see the ever-genial Parson so peremptory; and I
lingered half wilfully, not unwilling to mingle the relieving flavor of
this pleasure with the more awful delight of other impressions: said,
however, at length,--

"I intend to go up to it, when I have found a suitable place."

"Place! What better place do you desire than this?"

I could but smile and pull on.

Caution was not unnecessary. The sea rose and fell a number of feet
beside the berg, beating heavily against it with boom and hiss; and I
knew well, that, if our boat struck fairly, especially if it struck
sidewise, it would be whirled over and over in two seconds. Besides,
where we then were, there was a cut of a foot or more into the berg at
the water-level,--or rather, it was excavated below, with this
projection above; and had the skiff caught under that, we would drown. I
had come there not to drown, nor to run any risk, but to get some more
intimate acquaintance with an iceberg. Rowing along, therefore, despite
the Parson's moving hortatives, I at length found a spot where this
projection did not appear. Turning now the skiff head on, I drove it
swiftly toward the berg; then, when its headway was sufficient, shipped
the oars quickly, slipped into the bow, and, reaching forth my hand and
striking the berg, sent the boat in the same instant back with all my
force, not suffering it to touch.

"Now me! Now me!" shouted the Parson, brow hot, and eyes blazing.
"You're going to give me a chance, too? I would not miss it for a
kingdom!"

"Yes; wait, wait."

I took the oars, got sea-room, then turned its stern, where the Parson
sat, toward the iceberg, and backed gently in.

"Put your hand behind you; reach out as far as you can; sit in the
middle; keep cool, cool; don't turn your body."

"Cool, oh, yes! I'm cool as November," he said, with a face misty as a
hot July morning with evaporating dew. As his hand struck the ice, I
bent the oars, and we shot safely away.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" he sho