In the captain's room, there were several large, metallic flasks, made very broad and flat, as I suppose for the purpose of better stowage in his room. What they had formerly contained, I could only judge by the smell; but they were empty now. This, then, was the experiment that I would try,--filling these flasks with nitro-glycerine, I would lower them into a crevice in the ice. Then, if I could, I must make a block of ice fall on them. In two or three hours, my preparations were concluded. The flasks were just large enough to fit snugly in the chasm. Above them, the precipice hung over a little. Half-hidden by the bulwarks of the ship, I fired three bullets from the captain's gun into the projecting mass. Nothing fell. I loaded her again,--fired again, and a great block of ice keeled over and slid down. As fast did I leap down stairs into the cabin, as if I should be safe there. As I landed, I felt the great iceberg tremble; then came a sharp, quick, terrible crash, as if forty thunders had broken all together right over my head, and the great hill of ice sank grandly and slowly into the ocean below. For a minute or two, I could hear the roar of the waters as they opened to receive the huge mass, and the berg rocked as if in a great storm; then all was still again. I rushed back to my cabin, laid the spirit-level on the floor, and the little bubble stopped right in the middle of the tube. The danger was over. Another week passed; and there was no longer any room to doubt that I _was_ moving, and in the right direction. At the pole, there was never a breath of wind; but now it blew quite strong. The compass began to show signs of vitality; and, at midnight, I could see some of the brightest of the stars. The sun dropped nearer and nearer the horizon every evening, and it was growing uncomfortably warm at mid-day. As I was now getting some information from the sun as to the points of the compass, I set up a vane on the deck, in order to find out, from day to day, the direction of the wind. This put another idea into my head. Couldn't I do something to help the old berg along? Why couldn't the spare masts and sails, that lay along the sides of the deck, be put to some use? The foremast of the ship was broken off about fifteen feet from the level of the deck, and I went to work to splice on a jury-mast. It was slow and pretty hard work. I had to arrange the blocks and tackles in the most scientific manner, in order to lift the heavy timber to its place; and it required a great deal of strength to bring the ropes around the fore and jury-mast, so as to bind them securely together. I then managed to rig a yard to the mast, and, in the course of another day, had quite a respectable sail set. The day after, I got up a jib, and then crowned the whole by hoisting the American flag to the top of the mast. I did not keep this flying all the time, but reserved it for great occasions.