At a quarter before nine o'clock the next night we sighted Resolution
Island in the dim distance. Spy-glasses were at once brought into
requisition, and we could see that the mirage had fooled us, though
there seemed little doubt of the land's being visible. The next morning
the land was in plain sight, about thirty or thirty-five miles off the
weather beam, and the water filled with small and dangerous pieces of
ice. The land was covered with fog, and looked desolate enough, but
nevertheless seemed acceptable after a tedious journey against head
winds and calms. The wind was still directly out of the straits, and we
had to beat backward and forward from Resolution to Button Island, and
it seemed as if the straits were unapproachable. Toward night the wind
blew a perfect gale, and added to the usual dangers was the risk of
running upon the innumerable pieces of loose ice which appeared on
every side, many of them having sharp points projecting below the
surface of the water, and heavy enough to pierce the sides of any
vessel going at the speed we were compelled to make in order to keep
sufficient headway to steer clear of such obstacles as could be seen.
The captain and first mate, who were on deck most of the night, said
that disaster was imminent; that the danger was constant, and that the
night was withal one of the most terrible ordeals they had ever
experienced.
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