I very well knew that shadow must be land, probably one of the mountainous rocks of the South Orkneys; unless indeed it was that group which lies north-east of the South Shetlands--forming one of them, in short: but I could not persuade myself that our drift to the westwards had been so considerable. I said to Miss Otway: 'Do you see a shadow in the air yonder?' She looked, preserving the frown of an intense stare, and replied: 'No; I see no shadow.' I directed the glass; she put her eye to it and cried quickly, 'Yes; I see it.' 'It is land,' said I. She looked eagerly at me and said, 'Inhabited land?' 'I'll not say so, but I believe they go sealing there. I've heard of whalers heaving-to and sending ashore.' 'For what?' 'I don't know.' I put away the glass and said: 'I've been afraid of that land; but when I think of it, best after all for us, Miss Otway, it should be there. Only, how to come at it? What's our drift and where are we? Shall we wash perhaps round yonder point of film, clearing the whole blocking mass, to light, may be, upon some spouter crawling northwards from ten degrees lower south? Or--or----' But I broke off, for what was the good of conjecturing unless I could say something to bring a little of the poor girl's heart into her eyes? On the chance of something lying hidden round a point of crystal I went forward, lowered the lantern, and ran the red flag aloft, jack down. This done, I fetched a sextant from the captain's cabin and stood with Miss Otway in the shelter of the companion-way waiting for the sun to cross his meridian, meanwhile searching the line of the ice, beholding the phantasy of a ship's white sails over and over again, and conversing with the girl. The sea came ridging steadily out of north-west, the vast westerly swell of the mighty Southern Ocean pulsing through it in rounds so majestically regular, you didn't notice the heave of it. I had never beheld a more glorious breast of ocean. All was dark blue sparkling billows, heads of froth tossing into silken veils upon the wind, a roaring, flashing scene, deep blue above, looking in its silence down, and the ice southward, like a coast cut in ivory white, motionless, shining, coming and going as the hull sank and soared. I got an observation and eagerly went below to work it out. Miss Otway followed me into the captain's cabin and watched me whilst I calculated. I made the latitude sixty degrees ten minutes south, and the longitude exactly forty-five degrees west. Then, looking at the chart, I judged that that shadow of land which was showing miles past the barrier of ice was some central mountain of Coronation Island, towering high four thousand five hundred feet. I marked the hull's place on the chart, and said: 'This is where we are.'