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The Ice Pilot   By: (1885-)

The Ice Pilot by Henry Leverage

First Page:

THE ICE PILOT BY HENRY LEVERAGE

FRONTISPIECE BY RUDOLPH TANDLER

GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 1921

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY STREET AND SMITH CORPORATION

DEDICATED TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE KARLUK SEASON 1897 8

[Illustration: The floes through which Stirling guided the ship became larger and higher ]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I THE COAST OF BARBARY CHAPTER II ON A MAN'S SEA CHAPTER III OVER THE QUARTER DECK CHAPTER IV ON THE SPARKLING SEA CHAPTER V INTO A PURPLE TWILIGHT CHAPTER VI BY THE GREAT CIRCLE ROUTE CHAPTER VII DRIFTERS AND DERELICTS CHAPTER VIII ON A LOWER BUNK CHAPTER IX THE POLAR BARRIER CHAPTER X TO THE LAST DAY CHAPTER XI BENEATH THE SURFACE CHAPTER XII THE MANNER OF MAN CHAPTER XIII INTO THE ICE CHAPTER XIV A WHISPERED WARNING CHAPTER XV OUT OF THE PORTHOLE CHAPTER XVI FROM HIS POCKET CHAPTER XVII INTO FORBIDDEN WATERS CHAPTER XVIII WITH THE SPEED OF WIND CHAPTER XIX A TOAST FROM MARR CHAPTER XX THE MOVING SHADOWS CHAPTER XXI THROUGH THE PORTHOLE CHAPTER XXII ALONE IN THE CABIN CHAPTER XXIII OVER THE STERN CHAPTER XXIV BEFORE THE WHEEL CHAPTER XXV IN THE GRIP OF THE UNKNOWN CHAPTER XXVI IN THE SUDDEN DARKNESS CHAPTER XXVII IN THE PIT CHAPTER XXVIII THE THIRD DOOR CHAPTER XXIX TO SEE IT THROUGH CHAPTER XXX IN SWIFT SALUTE CHAPTER XXXI DANGER AND DOUBT CHAPTER XXXII TO THE LAST DAY CHAPTER XXXIII A GRIM WARNING CHAPTER XXXIV THROUGH THE DRIVING SNOW CHAPTER XXXV A MATTER OF MINUTES CHAPTER XXXVI ACROSS THE CABIN CHAPTER XXXVII THE CALLING BEACON

CHAPTER I THE COAST OF BARBARY

It was raining in San Francisco.

Over that Bagdad of the West a thin drizzling mist swept like some fine seiner's net; over the Bay a fog hung.

A man stood alone on the crest of Telegraph Hill. Below him the city stretched with its square checked habitations; its long, blurred lanes of lights; its trolley cars creeping like glow worms up and down the slippery inclines.

That evening the man had watched the sun go down in yellow splendour. He had seen the shadow of night chase the sunlight in a mad frolic beyond the edge of the world. He had noted for his eyes were sharp the fore topsail of a windjammer cut a square nick out of the horizon, and come like a scared white thing through the Golden Gate.

Directly below the man a house, which was perched on the declivity, seemed to burst with drunken mirth and laughter. A woman's voice swung in tune with a tinkling piano. She sang an old chantey that whalers know:

"'Rah for the grog The jolly, jolly grog. 'Rah for the grog and tobacco. We've spent all our tin with the ladies, drinking gin, And across the briny ocean we must wan der "

The man shrugged his shoulders, clinked two silver coins together, and descended the hill to the Blubber Room, from whence the song had come.

The piano drummed out a noisy welcome when he opened and closed the door.

He took a seat at a table, removed his cap from his gray sprinkled head, leaned back, and looked around the smoky interior of the Blubber Room. The figures of old salts, crimps, half pay officers, and one square jawed sailor loomed through the fetid air. A woman with carmined lips and a thin blue neck stood by a youth who played the piano.

It was all familiar to Stirling known from the Clyde to the Golden Horn as Horace Stirling, the Ice Pilot... Continue reading book >>




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