336 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
to go straight away to sea, and lie to until we could 
get an observation, was the only thing to be done. 
Away then we went, struggling against a tremendous 
sea for a good nine hours, until we judged ourselves to 
be seventy or eighty miles from where we had sighted 
the breakers,—when we lay to, not in the best of tempers. 
The next morning, not only was it blowing as hard as 
ever, but all chance of getting a sight that day seemed 
also out of the question. I could have eaten my head 
with impatience. However, as it is best never to throw 
a chance away, about half-past eleven o’clock, though 
the sky resembled an even sheet of lead, I got 
my sextant ready, and told Mr. Wyse to do the 
same. 
Now, out of tenderness for your feminine ignorance, 
I must state, that in order to take an observation, it 
is necessary to get a sight of the sun at a particular 
moment of the day: this moment is noon. When, 
therefore, twelve o’clock came, and one could not so 
much as guess in what quarter of the heavens he might 
be lying perdu, you may suppose I almost despaired. 
Ten minutes past. It was evident we were doomed to 
remain, kicking our heels for another four-and-twenty 
