Cold? He believed
you this fog was cold, and you might believe him that fog was cold, but
the cold of both together would not be a patch upon what it was when
your bones chattered in your skin and you heard the ship's keel
grinding, and said "Ice!" "He'd seen some queer faces--dead and
living--in his time, but when _that_ fog lifted and the sun shone upon
walls of green ice on both sides above our head, and the captain's face
as cold and as green as them with knowing all was up--"
At this point the narrator was called away, and somebody asked,
"Has any one heard him tell how it ended?"
"I did," said Pat Shaughnessy, "and it spoilt me dinner that time."
"Go on, Pat! What happened to them?"
"The lowest depths of misfortune. Sorra a soul but himself and a boy
escaped by climbing to a ledge on the topmost peak of one of the
icebergs just in the nick of time to see the ship cracked like a walnut
between your fingers. And the worst was to come, bad luck!"
"What? Go on, Paddy! What did he and the boy do?"
"They just eat each other," faltered Pat.
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