rocked from side to side by the long oscillations of the swell coming from the west.
"The sea feels something," said Captain Len Guy to me, "and there must be rough weather on that side," he added, pointing westward.
"The horizon is misty," I replied; "but perhaps the sun towards noon—"
"The sun has no strength in this latitude, Mr. Jeorling, not even in summer. Jem!"
West came up to us.
"What do you think of the sky?"
"I do not think well of it. We must be ready for anything and everything, captain."
"Has not the look-out given warning of the first drifting ice?" I asked.
"Yes," replied Captain Len Guy, "and if we get near the icebergs the damage will not be to them. Therefore, if prudence demands that we should go either to the east or to the west, we shall resign ourselves, but only in case of absolute necessity."
The watch had made no mistake. In the afternoon we sighted masses, islets they might be called, of ice, drifting slowly southward, but these were not yet of considerable extent or altitude. These packs were easy to avoid; they could not interfere with the sailing of the Halbrane. But, although the wind had hitherto permitted her to keep on her course, she was not advancing, and it was exceedingly disagreeable to be rolling about in a rough and hollow sea which struck our ship's sides most unpleasantly.
About two o'clock it was blowing a hurricane from all the points of the compass. The schooner was terribly knocked about, and the boatswain had the deck cleared of
