If, indeed, the weather did not turn to tempest, this navigation would continue to be accomplished without great danger, and the veritable perils would only spring up when the question would be to land on some badly ascertained point of the coast.
That was indeed what Dick Sand was already asking himself.

When he should once make the land, how should he act, if he did not encounter some pilot, some one who knew the coast?
In case the bad weather should oblige him to seek a port of refuge, what should he do, because that coast was to him absolutely unknown?
Indeed, he had not yet to trouble himself with that contingency.

However, when the hour should come, he would be obliged to adopt some plan.

Well, Dick Sand adopted one.
During the thirteen days which elapsed, from the 24th of February to the 9th of March, the state of the atmosphere did not change in any perceptible manner.

The sky was always loaded with heavy fogs.