As we advanced we heard whales spouting on all sides, but could not yet see them or the open water in which they gambolled. A little farther on we saw many seals, and soon after a belt of ice fissured in every direction. Thinking that we could cross this we strode over one pan after another, expecting every moment that we would reach more solid ice where we might pitch our tent for the night. The darkness advanced, and the pans separated more and more. Soon it was perfectly dark. The ice was so black that we could not easily mark the difference between it and the waters. To proceed was now impossible, and to camp on a little pan, the centre of a great pressure angle, was not conducive to rest, but we had no other choice. In a few moments our tent was pitched, and light within offered a spark of cheerfulness, but everything outside was as dismal as it could possibly be. The wind blew with a despairing howl, driving snow into every opening or seam of our fur suits. The ice groaned and cracked, and complained of the pressure forced against it; our floe was little by little reduced in size until we could hear the seals in the water as plainly as if they were under the tent. I cannot imagine a position on the polar pack more hopeless. We were tired and knew well that we would sleep, and perhaps not awake until dropped into the cold water. To overcome this danger we kept watch. [Illustration: Before. After. Frederick A. Cook. Frederick A. Cook. Roald Amundsen. Roald Amundsen. Emile Racovitza. Emile Racovitza. (We were all reasonably good-looking when we embarked, but we were otherwise when we returned. The long night effected a radical transformation in our physiognomies.)] The seals during the night came upon the ice to examine our tent, our _ski_, and our sledge; but evidently these were not to their liking, for they went away, and played and gambolled like children on the end of the floe. Whales also spouted all around us, and the wind brought their spray onto our tent in icy globules. About four o’clock in the morning the pan broke within two metres of the tent, and we expected momentarily to see an opening in our floe. Dawn came at last, but the atmosphere was again too obscure to permit a hope of an early advance. We thought we could see more firm ice south of us and made an effort to reach it, but we only mounted the neighbouring pan. From here all further progress was stopped by black bands of open water. We pitched our tent again and prepared some hot food and drink. The mist was so opaque and so much fine snow was drifting that it was impossible to see more than ten or fifteen metres. Occasionally there appeared bright spots in various directions, and in these we thought we could distinguish familiar icebergs, but they always proved to be only small hummocks at a short range.