tering ram
of the ancients hurled by infinite strength. The ice, thrown high in
the air, fell like hail around us. By its own power of impulsion our
apparatus made a canal for itself; some times carried away by its own
impetus, it lodged on the ice-field, crushing it with its weight, and
sometimes buried beneath it, dividing it by a simple pitching movement,
producing large rents in it. Violent gales assailed us at this time,
accompanied by thick fogs, through which, from one end of the platform
to the other, we could see nothing. The wind blew sharply from all
parts of the compass, and the snow lay in such hard heaps that we had
to break it with blows of a pickaxe. The temperature was always at 5
deg. below zero; every outward part of the Nautilus was covered with
ice. A rigged vessel would have been entangled in the blocked up
gorges. A vessel without sails, with electricity for its motive power,
and wanting no coal, could alone brave such high latitudes. At length,
on the 18th of March, after many useless assaults, the Nautilus was
positively blocked. It was no longer either streams, packs, or
ice-fields, but an interminable and immovable barrier, formed by
mountains soldered together.

"An iceberg!" said the Canadian to me.

I knew that to Ned Land, as well as to all other navigators who had
preceded us, this was an inevitable obstacle. The sun appearing for an
instant at noon, Captain Nemo took an observation as near as possible,
which gave our situation at 51 deg. 30' long. and 67 deg. 39' of S.
lat. We had advanced one degree more in this Antarctic region. Of the
liquid surface of the sea there was no longer a glimpse. Under the
spur of the Nautilus lay stretched a vast plain, entangled with
confused blocks. Here and there sharp points and slender needles
rising to a height of 200 feet; further on a steep shore, hewn as it
were with an axe and clothed with greyish tints; huge mirrors,
reflecting a few rays of sunshine, half drowned in the fog. And over
this desolate face of nature a stern silence reigned, scarcely broken
by the flapping of the wings of petrels and puffins. Everything was
frozen--even the noise. The Nautilus was then obliged to stop in its
adventurous course amid these fields of ice. In spite of our efforts,
in spite of the powerful means employed to break up the ice, the
Nautilus remained immovable. Generally, when we can proceed no
further, we have return still open to us; b