So we labored for hours at the oars, and the storm continually
increased, and the sea continually rose, while the snow fell thicker
and the darkness grew intenser. The reports of the gun now grew
fainter; what was worse, they were heard at longer intervals, and this
showed us that Captain Bennet was losing heart; that he was giving us
up; that he despaired of finding us, and was now firing only an
occasional gun out of a mournful sense of duty. This thought reduced
us to despair. It seemed as if all our efforts had only served to take
us farther away from the ship, and deprived us of all motive for
rowing any harder than was barely necessary to keep the boat steady.
After a time Agnew dropped his oar and began to bail out the boat--a
work which was needed; for, in spite of our care, she had shipped many
seas, and was one third full of water. He worked away at this while I
managed the boat, and then we took turns at bailing. In this way we
passed the dreary night.

Morning came at last. The wind was not so violent, but the snow was so
thick that we could only see for a little distance around us. The ship
was nowhere visible, nor were there any signs of her. The last gun had
been fired during the night. All that we could see was the outline of
a gaunt iceberg--an ominous spectacle. Not knowing what else to do we
rowed on as before, keeping in what seemed our best course, though
this was mere conjecture, and we knew all the time that we might be
going wrong. There was no compass in the boat, nor could we tell the
sun's position through the thick snow. We rowed with the wind,
thinking that it was blowing toward the north, and would carry us in
that direction. We still hoped to come within sound of the ship's gun,
and kept straining our ears incessantly to hear the wished-for report.
But no such sound ever came again, and we heard nothing except the
plash of the waves and the crash of breaking ice. Thus all that day we