To the northward, and along the very passage by which the vessel had sailed, the ice was closing, and it was far easier to go on than to return.  To the eastward, and towards the south-east in particular, however, did Roswell Gardiner turn his longing eyes.  Somewhere in that quarter of the ocean, and distant now less than ten leagues, did he expect to find the islands of which he was in quest, if, indeed, they had any existence at all.  In that direction there were many passages open among the ice, the latter being generally higher than in the particular place to which the vessel had reached.  Once or twice, Roswell mistook the summits of some of these bergs for real mountains, when, owing to the manner in which the light fell upon them, or rather did not fall upon them directly, they appeared dark and earthy.  Each time, however, the sun’s rays soon came to undeceive him; and that which had so lately been black and frowning was, as by the touch of magic, suddenly illuminated, and became bright and gorgeous, throwing out its emerald hues, or perhaps a virgin white, that filled the beholder with delight, even amid the terrors and dangers by which, in very truth, he was surrounded.  The glorious Alps themselves, those wonders of the earth, could scarcely compete in scenery with the views that nature lavished, in that remote sea, on a seeming void.  But the might and honour of God were there, as well as beneath the equator.

For one whole hour did Roswell Gardiner remain in the cross-trees, having hailed the deck, and caused the schooner’s head to be turned to the south-east, pressing her through the openings as near the wind as she could go.  The atmosphere was never without fog, though the vapour drifted about, leaving large vacancies that were totally clear.  One spot, in particular, seemed to be a favourite resting-place for these low clouds, which just there appeared to light upon the face of the ocean itself.  A wide field of ice, or, it were better to say, a broad belt of bergs, lay between this stationary cloud and the schooner, though the existence of the vapour early caught Roswell’s attention; and during the hour he was aloft, conning the craft through a very intricate and ticklish channel, not a minute passed that the young man did not turn a look towards that veiled spot.  He was in the act of placing a foot on the ratlin below him, to descend to the deck, when he half-unconsciously turned to take a last glance at this distant and seemingly immovable object.  Just then, the vapour, which had kept rolling and moving, like a fluid in ebullition, while it still clung together, suddenly opened, and the bald head of a real mountain, a thousand feet high, came unexpectedly into the view!  There could be no mistake; all was too plain to admit of a doubt.  There, beyond all question, was land; and it was doubtless the most western of the islands described by the dying seaman.  Everything corroborated this conclusion.  The latitude and longitude were