which
it is moored? Why, six months ago it was no bigger than it is now!" And
he sent a furious terrified gate into the white solitudes vanishing in
azure faintness in the south-west.

It was not a thing to reason upon. I was as much disappointed as he by
the trifling changes the gale had made, and my heart felt very heavy at
the sight of the great field disappearing in the south. The bergs in the
north signified little. It is true they indicated demolition, but
demolition so slow as to be worthless to us. It was not to be questioned
that the island was proceeding north, but at what rate? Here, perhaps,
might be a frozen crescent of forty or fifty leagues: and at what speed,
appreciable enough to be of the least consequence to our calculations,
should such a body travel?

I looked at the Frenchman.

"This must decide us!" said I. "We must fix on one of two courses:
endeavour to launch the ship by blowing up the ice, or turn to and rig
up the best arrangement we can contrive and put to sea."

"Yes," he answered, scowling as he darted his enraged eyes over the ice.
"Better set a slow match in the magazine and drink ourselves senseless,
and so blow ourselves to hell, than linger here in the hope that this
continent will dissolve and release us. Where's Mendoza's body?"

I stared about me, and then pointing to the huge gap the ice had made,
answered, "It was there. Where it is now I know not."

He shrugged his shoulders, took another view of the ice and the ocean,
and then cried impatiently, "Let us return! the powder-barrels must have
the first chance." And he made for the schooner, savagely striking the
ice with his spear and growling curses to himself as he ploughed and
climbed and jumped his way along.

CHAPTER XX.

A MERRY EVENING.

By the time we had reached the bottom of the hollow Tassard was blowing
like a bellows with the uncommon exertion; and swearing that he felt the
cold penetrating his bones, and that he should be stupefied again if he
did not mind, he climbed into the ship and disappeared. I loved him so
little that secretly I very heartily wished that nature would make away
with him: I mean that something it would be impossible in me to lay to
my conscience should befall him, as becoming comatose again, and so
lying like one dead. Assuredly in such a case it was not this hand that
would have wasted a drop of brandy in returning an evil, white-livered,
hectoring old rascal to a life that s