The Arctic Ocean may be likened to such a pond, only two thousand miles across and with ice upon its surface which never melts and is always being forced one way or the other by tide, wind, or current. The rugged, piled-up fragments of one winter's fight are smoothed over somewhat later on by the heavy snows of spring and summer, or, more correctly speaking, of the period of daylight, for in this region the year is divided between the time when the sun is seen and when the sun is not seen. Along the shores of the continents which surround it, open water forms in the time of sunshine, and so there is room for the energy of the tides to escape. The currents can also, from time to time, break off great areas into floes and packs which drift away to the warmer South until they melt, leaving more room for the enormous stretch of tumbled ruggedness behind them to swing and drift in obedience to the driving currents. It will be remembered that it was at this period of the year when the _Alert_ party travelled over the ice and found it so broken and rugged that barely a mile a day was covered. It was while this sort of ice was being formed that the _Fram_ and her crew rested in the North, the vessel braving every nip by slipping upwards from the pressure; the crew, confident in her capabilities, living in merry good-humour in her cabin. What the confusion of the ice was like may be gathered from the opinion of those who saw it when the return of the sun enabled them to do so, and also relieved the pressure. "Imagine a stormy sea, all broken waves and flying billows, suddenly frozen solid into ice, and you have some idea, on a small scale, of the piled-up hummocks on the pack."