In an ordinary season, however, he would yet have succeeded in getting beyond the circle. But it seemed as if the fates themselves held the north wind in their hands. It had grown in fury for weeks. And now the cold had begun to set in. Pack ice even showed itself, and the rigging was frozen at times, so that a block or stay could hardly be moved. No wonder the captain was anxious. “We must bend every sail!” he declared, “Unless we get out of here this week it is winter quarters, and——” He did not finish the sentence. Something like a groan escaped his lips. But every day the wind grew stiffer and the Albatross labored harder. It was certain that she would never make the northern seas. A gloom settled down over ship and crew. The sailors, brave fellows all, could not help a murmur. Many of them thought of their homes in the far North where dear ones were awaiting them. Alas! it looked as if they would never see them again. Day by day the vessel lost headway. Then one day the black clouds shut in from the north and there came an ice storm, the like of which they had never seen before. There was little use to attempt to face the wind now. All they could do was to keep the vessel steady and look out for a collision with drift ice. The nights were long sieges, with trying to keep the ship from being stove. The days were rigid battles against the careering blasts. Then the sun disappeared below the horizon. The Antarctic night had begun. There was no longer any hope of reaching northern waters that year. Winter quarters was the order. In a remarkably brief space of time the tossing, turbulent sea had become a solid mass of pack ice. And in the midst of this her timbers grinding and wrenching with the strain lay the Albatross. But soon the ice pack became motionless as the fearful cold contributed to make it solid. Thus fixed in her icy bed the Albatross was to remain a fixture for seven long dreary months. It was by no means a pleasant outlook. Yet the crew proceeded to make the best of it. The rations were carefully reckoned up. It was found that only with the most frugal of indulgence would they last until spring. But yet there was a chance that game might be procured to some extent. Even then, however, it was remembered that after the ice pack should break up it would be three months before they could hope to reach a port. Therefore the outlook was serious indeed. Added to this was the almost absolute certainty of sickness. Scurvy already threatened various members of the crew. Yet they did no yield to despair. It was a common conviction that the only hope of escape consisted in clinging together, and this they did. There was no mutiny, no recriminations, no quarrels. It was a common cause, and life was its stake. Soon the Antarctic winter with all its fearful rigors had set in. But they were quite comfortable aboard the ship, grouping about the furnace by the light of the oil lamps.