Tuesday, August 18. ⁠—Evening came, or rather the time came when sleep weighs down the weary eyelids, for there is no night here, and the ceaseless light wearies the eyes with its persistency just as if we were sailing under an arctic sun. Hans was at the helm. During his watch I slept.

Two hours afterwards a terrible shock awoke me. The raft was heaved up on a watery mountain and pitched down again, at a distance of twenty fathoms.

“What is the matter?” shouted my uncle. “Have we struck land?”

Hans pointed with his finger at a dark mass six hundred yards away, rising and falling alternately with heavy plunges. I looked and cried:

“It is an enormous porpoise.”

“Yes,” replied my uncle, “and there is a sea lizard of vast size.”