He became the very embodiment of restlessness.
A hundred times a-day he went aloft to look out for some prospect of a change, and to strain his eyes after the streak of land to the north which was to be made out on clear days from the maintop-gallant mast-head, and which of course would be the coast of Norway.

The dress, the silk handkerchiefs, the rings, and what he should say to Elizabeth--whether he should formally request a private interview with her, or wait till an opportunity offered--were running incessantly in his head.

And particularly what he should say to her seemed now, often as he had thought it over during the long voyage and settled it to his satisfaction, to present many points of difficulty.

He must go down then to his seaman's chest and see if the things were still there all right, and whether the moths might not have got into them; the last inspection, when he unfolded the stuff in his bunk, being conducted with uncommon precautions.
At last there came a prospect of release in the shape of thick weather, and a southerly gale setting on the Norwegian coast.

The ice too had for a day or two previously begun to show blue patches of water here and there, and when it was dark that evening they felt themselves free once more.
In spite of the salt water and the rain, which he had to wipe off his face every minute, Salve went to his look-out post forward that night, and stood there humming to himself, whilst the rest of the crew who were on duty slopped up and down on the deck-cargo below, in sea-boots and dripping oilskins, or sheltered themselves, as best they could, under the lee of the round-house or forecastle.