sun was setting, and with the darkness we had to encounter the
gathering storm and the blinding snow. We rowed in silence. At every
stroke our situation grew more serious. The wind was from the south,
and therefore favored us to some extent, and also made less of a sea
than would have been produced by a wind from any other quarter; but
then this south wind brought dangers of its own, which we were soon to
feel--new dangers and worse ones. For this south wind drove the ship
farther from us, and at the same time broke up the vast fields of ice
and impelled the fractured masses northward. But this was a danger
which we did not know just then. At that time we were rowing for the
ship, and amid the darkness and the blinding snow and the dashing
waves we heard from time to time the report of signal-guns fired from
the ship to guide us back. These were our only guide, for the darkness
and the snow had drawn the ship from our sight, and we had to be
guided by our hearing only.

We were rowing for our lives, and we knew it; but every moment our
situation grew more desperate. Each new report of the gun seemed to
sound farther away. We seemed always to be rowing in the wrong
direction. At each report we had to shift the boat's course somewhat,
and pull toward the last point from which the gun seemed to sound.
With all this the wind was increasing rapidly to a gale, the sea was
rising and breaking over the boat, the snow was blinding us with its
ever-thickening sleet. The darkness deepened and at length had grown
so intense that nothing whatever could be seen--neither sea nor sky,
not even the boat itself--yet we dared not stop; we had to row. Our
lives depended on our efforts. We had to row, guided by the sound of
the ship's gun, which the ever-varying wind incessantly changed, till
our minds grew all confused, and we rowed blindly and mechanically.