A moment more and I lost consciousness.
When I partially recovered my senses, and roused from the swoon of a half-drowned man, I found myself wet, stiff, and almost frozen, lying on the iceberg.

But there was no sign of my father or of our little fishing sloop.

The monster berg had recovered itself, and, with its new balance, lifted its head perhaps fifty feet above the waves.

The top of this island of ice was a plateau perhaps half an acre in extent.
I loved my father well, and was grief-stricken at the awfulness of his death.

I railed at fate, that I, too, had not been permitted to sleep with him in the depths of the ocean.