The schooners now took in their foresails, for the double purpose of diminishing their velocity and of being in a better condition to change their course, in order to avoid dangers ahead.  These changes of course were necessarily frequent; but, by dint of boldness, perseverance and skill, Daggett worked his way into the comparatively open passage already mentioned.  It was a sort of river amid the floes, caused doubtless by some of the inexplicable currents, and was fully a quarter of a mile in width, straight as an air-line, and of considerable length; though how long could not be seen by moonlight.  It led, moreover, directly down towards the bergs, then distant less than a mile.  Without stopping to ascertain more, Daggett stood on, Roswell keeping close on his quarter.  In ten minutes they drew quite near to that wild and magnificent ruined city of alabaster that was floating about in the antarctic sea!

Notwithstanding the imminent peril that now most seriously menaced the two schooners, it was not possible to approach that scene of natural grandeur without feelings of awe, that were allied quite as much to admiration as to dread.  Apprehension certainly weighed on every heart; but curiosity, wonder, even delight, were all mingled in the breasts of the crews.  As the vessels came driving down into the midst of the bergs, everything contributed to render the movements imposing in all senses, appalling in one.  There lay the vast maze of floating mountains, generally of a spectral white at that hour, though many of the masses emitted hues more pleasing, while some were black as night.  The passages between the bergs, or what might be termed the streets and lanes of this mysterious-looking, fantastical, yet sublime city of the ocean, were numerous, and of every variety.  Some were broad, straight avenues, a league in length; others winding and narrow; while a good many were little more than fissures, that might be fancied lanes.

The schooners had not run a league within the bergs before they felt much less of the power of the gale, and the heaving and setting of the seas were sensibly diminished.  What was, perhaps, not to be expected, the field-ice had disappeared entirely within the passages of the bergs, and the only difficulty in navigating was to keep in such channels as had outlets, and which did not appear to be closing.  The rate of sailing of the two schooners was now greatly lessened, the mountains usually intercepting the wind, though it was occasionally heard howling and scuffling in the ravines, as if in a hurry to escape, and pass on to the more open seas.  The grinding of the ice, too, came down in the currents of air, furnishing fearful evidence of dangers that were not yet distant.  As the water was now sufficiently smooth, and the wind, except at the mouths of particular ravines, was light, there was nothing to prevent the schooners from approaching each other.  This was done, and the two masters held a discourse together on the subject of their present situation.