Still the staunch old ship forged ahead, lifting and surging with every sea, and seeming to struggle to free herself from the grasp of the berg.

All hope of saving the ship seemed gone now.

Both officers and men waited in suspense, expecting, every lurch the ship made, to see her go to pieces.
It was one of those moments when presence of mind and seamanship seem of no avail to save a ship.

On sounding the pumps it was found that the ship's hull was still tight, and that she had made but little water.
Still she forged ahead, and great blocks of ice continued to fall on her deck.
When all eyes were turned towards the captain, and each waited with breathless anxiety, in the hope that he would give some order that would at least be a relief to their feelings, even though it were folly to execute it, Tite mounted the fore-rigging to the top-mast trees, the surging ship threatening to dash him against the ice wall every minute.
In that fearful position he remained for several minutes, scanning over the scene ahead, and hoping for some gleam of hope.
There was still a hope of saving the ship.

He waved a signal of encouragement to those below, and quickly descended to the deck.