"

A couple of hours later the low, murmurous roar could be heard from the
deck by listening attentively; but it was impossible to say whether it
was caused by breakers on a rocky coast, which might be that of Jan
Mayen, or by the sea beating on the vast icy barrier lying to the north,
near which the officers felt that they must be. So the engine was
slowed till the rate of progress was deemed to be sufficient to keep the
vessel from drifting south, and then they waited for the first
breathings of the wind which would break up the dense mist that shut
them in, chilly, wet, and horribly depressing; and night and day seemed
to Steve always the same, just as if they had sailed into a latitude
where everything was Welsh flannel in a state of solution.

This lasted for many hours, during which time Johannes ascended to the
crow's-nest again and again, and then one of his companions took his
turn.

He had hardly reached his lofty perch, when it seemed to Steve on the
deck that the noise of the breakers suddenly grew louder, and he was
about to say so when there was a shout from aloft.

"Fog's lifting, sir."

And then, as if it were a magical change, the mist overhead grew
opalescent, then lighter still, as there was a warm breath of air
sweeping over the dingy, murky sea. At that moment the dull, distant
murmur of water beating against an obstacle grew louder, as the fog
rolled away from the ship off to the north, and five minutes later the
crew burst into a loud cheer; for, flashing from the waters and dazzling
their eyes, the sun burst through the now iridescent mist, and so
quickly that it was hard to realise the truth that astern, and to
southward, the sea was sparkling like some wondrous stretch of sapphire
blue, while the yards, stays, and ropes of the ship, which were hung
with great mist-drops, glittered like diamonds in the glorious light.

The change was indeed wonderful, and, feeling as if he must climb up
somewhere and shout, and then that he should like to run to the door of
the galley and shake hands with Watty Links, Steve drew in long, deep
breaths of soft, warm air. But he neither shouted nor shook hands with
the cook's boy, for he stood with Captain Marsham and the doctor,
waiting for the explanation of the heavy, increasing roar which came
from somewhere behind the vast curtain of mist which lay drifting to the
north-west, a couple of hundred yards on the starboard bow, and rising
up to the skies,