only too plain that lack of courage prevailed, and that everyone
was inclined to be insubordinate.

After another day and a half, I could no longer contend with the
general discontent. The schooner must ultimately retrace her course
towards the north.

The crew were working in silence, whilst West was giving sharp short
orders for manoeuvring through the channels, sometimes luffing in
order to avoid a collision, now bearing away almost square before
the wind. Nevertheless, in spite of a close watch, in spite of the
skill of the sailors, in spite of the prompt execution of the
manoeuvres, dangerous friction against the hull, which left long
traces of the ridge of the icebergs, occurred. And, in truth, the
bravest could not repress a feeling of terror when thinking that the
planking might have given way and the sea have invaded us.

The base of these floating ice-mountains was very steep, so that it
would have been impossible for us to land upon one. Moreover, we saw
no seals--these were usually very numerous where the ice-fields
abounded--nor even a flock of the screeching penguins which, on
other occasions, the _Halbrane_ sent diving by myriads as she passed
through them; the birds themselves seemed rarer and wilder. Dread,
from which none of us could escape, seemed to come upon us from
these desolate and deserted regions. How could we still entertain a
hope that the survivors of the _Jane_ had found shelter, and obtained
means of existence in those awful solitudes?

And if the Halbrahe were also shipwrecked, would there remain any
evidence of her fate?

Since the previous day, from the moment our southern course had been
abandoned, to cut the line of the icebergs, a change had taken place
in the demeanour of the half-breed. Nearly always crouched down at
the foot of the fore-mast, looking afar into the boundless space, he
only got up in order to lend a hand to some manoeuvre, and without
any of his former vigilance or zeal. Not that he had ceased to
believe that his comrade of the _Jane_ was still living--that thought
never even came into his mind! But he felt by instinct that the
traces of poor Pym were not to be recovered by following this course.

"Sir," he would have said to me, "this is not the way! No,
this is not the way!" And how could I have answered him?

Towards seven o'clock in the evening a rather thick mist arose;
this would tend to make the navigation of the schooner difficult and
dangerous.