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White Wings Vol I. Fifty Years Of Sail In The New Zealand Trade, 1850 TO 1900

Crashes Into A Berg

Crashes Into A Berg.

It was at a quarter to four the morning after sighting this land that the look-out man cried out "Ice!" the ship seemed to be right on top of it. There in the dark loomed a great iceberg, "with more mass than Rangitoto," says Mr. Aitken.

"Down with your helm" rang out the order, and as the ship came up into the wind she just struck the berg with her shoulder. There was a deafening crash as the jibboom and everything on the foremast above the lower mast came down, while about thirty feet of the ship's head was crumpled. The forecastle was a litter of wreckage and ice that had come crashing down on the deck. Everyone on board thought his last moment had come.

In the forecastle, where the watch below was fast asleep, there was a scene of confusion. Being a light sleeper, Mr. Aitken jumped out of his bunk at the first cry from the look-out, and quickly realising the position called out: "It's all right, boys; we've struck ice, but we are clear of it now!" When the crash came it seemed as though the ship's side must be stove in. Sleeping in the next bunk to Mr. Aitken was a lad, and, like all youngsters, he was a sound sleeper. It is to be hoped he never wakened, as the crumpled iron plates crushed his body flat, and he did not even cry out.