The western side of the island was about a mile long.
Twice, by porting the helm, the little vessel escaped clear of rocks, over which the water spurted.
As she approached the southern end of the isle, Bok, who had been sent into the foretop, shouted that again there was land ahead, and that the passage between was full of ice.
The captain ascended the shrouds himself, halfway to the top.
"It's like a cauldron," he exclaimed on descending. "No ship, except perhaps a very powerful steam whaler, could live in it.
"There is only one chance for us," he continued. "We must get under shelter of this island."
As the south coast line opened, the helm was put down, and the vessel was hove to under a high cliff and jutting cape, which protected her from the rush of the ice-laden current.
Both anchors were at once let go.
Fortunately they found good holding ground.
All the rest of that day, and till dawn the next, did the gale rage; but as the short night passed, the wind sank, and by midday it was but a breeze.