The Wreck of the South Pole and Other Strange Tales — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER II. THE FIGURE OF A MAN, As to who I am, a very few words will be sufficient. Three years ago I left a seaport town on the Atlantic Coast for a whaling voyage in the South Seas. When in latitude 65, and almost directly south of Cape Horn, our ship was wrecked, and after various disasters I found my- self alone in a boat drifting rapidly southward. Icebergs could be seen in every direction, and on the tenth day after the wreck I sighted one straight ahead which appeared im- movable and extending to the horizon on the east and west. All day I floated in sight of this towering mass of ice, each hour some feature of it growing more and more distinct, until at last, as night came, I feared, with good reason, that my frail boat would be dashed against it and T lost. All that night I remained awake, watching the great mass as it drew nearer and nearer, or rather as I drew nearer to it. But the contact did not come that night. When morning broke I was still at some distance from it, and could now see that instead of an iceberg floating in the sea, it was all one solid mass, its cold peaks of glittering ice towering mountain high before me. In many places these peaks arose precipitously from the ocean, against which the long billows broke themselves Conmmiclboool <=) (SO)