338 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
called the Froli Havet,—a kind of oblong basin about 
sixteen miles long, formed by a ledge of low rocks 
running parallel with the mainland, at a distance of ten 
miles to seaward. Though the space between this outer 
boundary and the coast is so wide,—in consequence 
of the network of sunken rocks which stuffs it up, the 
passage by which a vessel can enter is very narrow, and 
the only landmark to enable you to find the channel 
-—is the head one of the string of outer islets. As 
this rock is about the size of a dining-table, perfectly 
flat, and rising only a few feet above the level of the sea, 
to attempt to make it, is like looking for a needle in 
a bottle of hay. It was already beginning to grow very 
late and dark, by the time we had come up with the 
spot where it ought to have been,—but not a vestige of 
such a thing had turned up. Should we not sight it in 
a quarter of an hour, we must go to sea again, and lie to 
for the night,—a very unpleasant alternative for any one 
so impatient as I was to reach a port. Just as I was 
going to give the order, Fitz—who was certainly the 
Lynceus of the ship’s company—espied its black back 
just peeping up above the tumbling water on our 
starboard bow. We had hit it off to a yard ! 
