fate. There was nothing for it but to wait and hope; and if the ice did
not break up soon, short rations would become the order of the day.

It was wearisome; and to Salvé above all, who was feverishly longing to
get home, and whose temperament was little suited for the endurance of
such agonies of Tantalus. He became the very embodiment of restlessness.
A hundred times a-day he went aloft to look out for some prospect of a
change, and to strain his eyes after the streak of land to the north
which was to be made out on clear days from the maintop-gallant
mast-head, and which of course would be the coast of Norway. The dress,
the silk handkerchiefs, the rings, and what he should say to
Elizabeth--whether he should formally request a private interview with
her, or wait till an opportunity offered--were running incessantly in
his head. And particularly what he should say to her seemed now, often
as he had thought it over during the long voyage and settled it to his
satisfaction, to present many points of difficulty. He must go down then
to his seaman's chest and see if the things were still there all right,
and whether the moths might not have got into them; the last inspection,
when he unfolded the stuff in his bunk, being conducted with uncommon
precautions.

At last there came a prospect of release in the shape of thick weather,
and a southerly gale setting on the Norwegian coast. The ice too had for
a day or two previously begun to show blue patches of water here and
there, and when it was dark that evening they felt themselves free once
more.

In spite of the salt water and the rain, which he had to wipe off his
face every minute, Salvé went to his look-out post forward that night,
and stood there humming to himself, whilst the rest of the crew who were