Pole an open sea exists?"]

We both frankly admitted that we were very hungry, and forthwith
I prepared a substantial meal from our well-stored larder. When
we had partaken heartily of the repast, I told my father I
believed I would sleep, as I was beginning to feel quite drowsy.
"Very well," he replied, "I will keep the watch."

I have no way to determine how long I slept; I only know that I
was rudely awakened by a terrible commotion of the sloop. To my
surprise, I found my father sleeping soundly. I cried out lustily
to him, and starting up, he sprang quickly to his feet. Indeed,
had he not instantly clutched the rail, he would certainly have
been thrown into the seething waves.

A fierce snow-storm was raging. The wind was directly astern,
driving our sloop at a terrific speed, and was threatening every
moment to capsize us. There was no time to lose, the sails had to
be lowered immediately. Our boat was writhing in convulsions. A
few icebergs we knew were on either side of us, but fortunately
the channel was open directly to the north. But would it remain
so? In front of us, girding the horizon from left to right, was a
vaporish fog or mist, black as Egyptian night at the water's
edge, and white like a steam-cloud toward the top, which was
finally lost to view as it blended with the great white flakes of
falling snow. Whether it covered a treacherous iceberg, or some
other hidden obstacle against which our little sloop would dash
and send us to a watery grave, or was merely the phenomenon of an
Arctic fog, there was no way to determine.[10]