While gazing thus, a huge mass took vague form. It was the head of a gigantic leviathan of the deep, which for a moment was projected against the sky and then sank out of sight with the same noise that had attracted Jack's notice in the first place.
The blowing was heard at intervals, for several minutes, until the distance shut it from further notice.
"I wonder if Rob noticed it," the sailor asked himself; "for if he did, he will make the mistake of believing the 'Fox' has come to take us off, and we're done with this old berg."
But nothing was heard from the youth, and the sailor remained seated on the shelf of ice, a prey to his gloomy reflections. He had made up his mind to stay where he was until the coming of day, when the question of what was to be done would be speedily settled.
Meanwhile, he wanted no company but his own thoughts. He had kept up with the elder youth, and carefully withheld his fears and beliefs from him. He felt that he could do so no longer. The farce had been played out, and the truth must be spoken.
It was impossible to note the passage of time. Jack carried no watch, but each of the boys owned an excellent timepiece. He probably fell into a doze, for, when he roused himself once more, he saw that the night was nearly over.
"I wonder what Rob is doing," he said, rising to his feet, stretching his arms, and looking in the direction where he expected to see his friend; "I hope nothing hain't happened to him."
This affliction was spared the sailor, for while he was peering through the increasing light, he caught sight of the figure of Rob making his way toward him.
"Hello, Jack, have you found anything?"
"No; have you?"