“We are lifted bodily eighteen inches out of water,” continues Dr. Kane. “The hummocks are reared up around the ship, so as to rise in some cases a couple of feet above our bulwarks—five feet above our deck. They are very often ten and twelve feet high. All hands are out, laboring with picks and crowbars to overturn the fragments that threaten to overwhelm us. Add to this darkness, snow, cold, and the absolute destitution of surrounding shores.”
“October 6, Sunday. 12 Midnight. They report us adrift. Wind, a gale from the northward and westward. An odd cruise this! The American expedition fast in a lump of ice about as big as Washington Square, and driving, like a shanty on a raft, before a howling gale.
“November 25.
“Our daylight to-day was a mere name, three and a half hours of meagre twilight. I was struck for the first time with the bleached faces of my mess-mates.
“Seventy-seven days more without a sunrise! twenty-six before we reach the solstitial point of greatest darkness!
“December 22, Sunday. The solstice!—the midnight of the year!
“December 23, Monday. Perfect darkness! Drift unknown. Winds nearly at rest with the exception of a little gasp from the westward.
“December 24, Tuesday. ‘Through utter darkness borne.’
“December 25. ‘Ye Christmas of ye Arctic cruisers!’