He grasped frantically at the air as he fell backward. But the next moment, too alarmed to cry out, he was himself tumbling through space. Then came the sharp shock and the icy sensation of his immersion as he struck the water.

He came to the surface, his lungs full of brine and his ears roaring as if an express train had been rushing past them. He gasped for breath and spat the salt water out. Far above him he saw for a flash the black, high hull of the Cambodian. He saw her lights. For a brief instant he could hear shouts.

And then the ship had passed by. An instant later she had vanished from the castaway lad’s sight.

“Help!” yelled Raynor, finding his voice at last. He sent the cry echoing and volleying across the dark water again and again. But there was no response.

A chill of deadly fear, not altogether born of the icy water, struck in at his heart. He was alone on the Atlantic. Nothing but his own efforts would keep him above the water very long. And weighted as he was by his water-soaked clothes, he felt his strength ebbing every moment.

“Great heavens,” he moaned to himself, “is this to be the end? Am I doomed to end my life here in the ocean with nobody to know of my fate?”

He cast his eyes upward. Then he almost gave a shout of relief. Towering above him was a mighty white wall.

It was the iceberg to which he owed his predicament.

It has been said that drowning men will clutch at straws. This may, or may not, be true, but certain it is that to Billy Raynor, almost exhausted by his long fight in the chilly water, the iceberg appeared a haven of refuge. Like most of such huge ice structures it was very irregular in shape.

Near him was a spot at which a narrow shelf stretched out close to the water’s edge. Raynor struck out for it and drew himself upon the ledge of ice. Then, for a time, he lay there supine, too weak to even move.

He was fearfully cold. His teeth chattered and he felt as if his flesh must be blue. But at least he had saved his life for the time being. He knew that ten minutes more in the water would have finished him. Raynor sat up and took stock of the situation.

He was afloat on an iceberg, a precarious enough situation surely. His momentary feeling of exultation at having found a safe refuge began to fade. 

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