452 THE ANTARCTIC MANUAL. 
Ever since our first circumpolar expedition we had constantly re- 
marked that in the evening, after sundown, there is a fairly well-marked 
clearness above the icebergs, arising doubtless from the reflection of the 
ice. This clearness had always been a signal to us of the approach of 
ice-fields. Reduced to tacking at night in the middle of a space strewn 
with a large number of floating islands, we were obliged to redouble our 
care in order to avoid running against them unawares. We all knew 
well that our position might become dangerous if the east wind, which 
was preventing us from getting out of the gulf in which we found our- 
selves, were to blow strongly. Therefore that evening I anxiously 
surveyed all points of the horizon, and very quickly realised that we 
were still far from having reached the eastern extremity of the ice-pack, 
the direction of which I could study by the great clearness which it re- 
flected in the sky. At 8 p.m. we stood in towards the land in order to 
make a long tack during the few hours of night which remained. At 
midnight the breeze seemed to increase. The swell which made itself 
felt from the east would have been a certain sign of bad weather, even 
if the sky had not become cloudy and very threatening. 
Jan. 24.—At 4 a.m. we were running north, and I thought then we 
had doubled the ice-pack as we had spied a headland to the east the 
night before; but the man on watch soon announced again solid ice 
in front of us. The pack stretched north-east as far as we could see, 
thus extending the gulf in which we were confined. I instantly began 
to haul the wind, but realising soon that we could not double the ice 
(glaces) by tacking we went about to run once more for the land. Mean- 
while the breeze freshened suddenly; the sea got up and for a few 
moments our position was most critical. Happily the space in which 
we had to run was not too much encumbered with floating ice. Only 
about twenty bergs were in sight; blown by the wind, they were 
visibly drifting towards the pack. Towards 1 a.m. the wind was coming 
in squalls of extraordinary force. Snow fell in whirlwinds and hid the 
land from us. Our horizon was limited to no more than three cables’ 
length and navigation was most dangerous, for if we had at that moment 
met one of the huge icebergs which were so numerous, on our course, we 
might not perhaps have seen it in time to avoid it, and then what an 
end would have been ours! Our corvettes could not have borne the 
shock of these enormous masses of compact ice, and they would probably 
have sunk on the spot. 
At the beginning of the storm the Zélée was only a few cables’ length 
behind us. I hastened to signal to the captain that he should steer as 
he thought best for the safety of his own vessel, without troubling to 
remain any longer in our wake; but at that moment our ships were 
suddenly enveloped in a thick whirlwind of snow which prevented the 
signal from being seen. However, from that moment our corvettes lost 
sight of each other, and great fears soon seized us concerning the fate of 
