It was the battering ram of the ancients hurled by infinite strength.
The ice, thrown high in the air, fell like hail around us.
By its own power of impulsion our apparatus made a canal for itself;
some times carried away by its own impetus, it lodged on the ice-field,
crushing it with its weight, and sometimes buried beneath it,
dividing it by a simple pitching movement, producing large rents in it.
Violent gales assailed us at this time, accompanied by thick fogs,
through which, from one end of the platform to the other, we could
see nothing. The wind blew sharply from all parts of the compass,
and the snow lay in such hard heaps that we had to break it with
blows of a pickaxe. The temperature was always at 5@ below zero;
every outward part of the Nautilus was covered with ice.
A rigged vessel would have been entangled in the blocked up gorges.
A vessel without sails, with electricity for its motive power,
and wanting no coal, could alone brave such high latitudes. At length,
on the 18th of March, after many useless assaults, the Nautilus was
positively blocked.
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