Lady Franklin, and the advocates for further search, now pressed upon government the necessity of following up, in a more effectual manner, the traces accidentally found by Dr. Rae, and, in fact, of rendering the search complete by one more effort, involving but little of hazard or expense. It was not until April, 1857, that any decisive answer was given to Lady Franklin's appeal. (See Appendix No. 1.)

Sir Charles Wood then stated "that the members of Her Majesty's Government, having come, with great regret, to the conclusion that there was no prospect of saving life, would not be justified, for any objects which in their opinion could be obtained by an expedition to the Arctic seas, in exposing the lives of officers and men to the risk inseparable from such an enterprise."

Lady Franklin, upon this final disappointment of her hopes, had no hesitation in immediately preparing to send out a searching expedition, equipped and stored at her own cost. But she was not left alone. Many friends of the cause—including some of the most distinguished scientific men in England,[12] and especially Sir Roderick Murchison, whose zeal was as practical as it was enlightened—hastened to tender their aid, and soon a very considerable sum was raised in furtherance of so truly noble an effort.

On the 18th of April, 1857, Lady Franklin did me the honor to offer me the command of the proposed expedition; it was of course most cheerfully accepted. As a post of honor and some difficulty, it possessed quite sufficient charms for a naval officer who had already served in three consecutive expeditions from 1848 to 1854. I was thoroughly conversant with all the details of this peculiar service; and I confess, moreover, that my whole heart was in the cause. How could I do otherwise than devote myself to save at least the record of faithful service, even unto death, of my brother officers and seamen? and, being one of those by whose united efforts not only the Franklin search, but the geography of Arctic America, has been brought so nearly to completion, I could not willingly resign to posterity, the honor of filling up even the small remaining blank upon our maps.

To leave these discoveries incomplete, more especially in a quarter through which the tidal stream actually demonstrates the existence of a channel—the only remaining hope of a practicable north-west passage—would indeed be leaving strong inducement for future explorers to reap the rich reward of our long-continued exertions.

I immediately applied to the Admiralty for leave of absence to complete the Franklin search; and on the 23d received at Dublin the telegraphic message from Lady Franklin: "Your leave is granted; the 'Fox' is mine; the refit will commence immediately." She had already purchased the screw-yacht 'Fox,' of 177 tons burthen, and now placed her, together with the necessary funds, at my disposal.

Let me explain what is here implied by the simple word refit. The velvet hangings and splendid furniture of the yacht, and also every thing not constituting a part of the vessel's strengthening, were to be removed; the large sky-lights and capacious ladderways had to be reduced to limits more adapted to a polar clime; the whole vessel to be externally sheathed with stout planking, and internally fortified by strong cross-beams, longitudinal beams, iron stanchions, and diagonal fastenings; the false keel taken off, the slender brass propeller replaced by a massive iron one, the boiler taken out, altered, and enlarged; the sharp stem to be cased in iron until it resembled a ponderous chisel set up edgeways; even the yacht's rig had to be altered.

She was placed in the hands of her builders, Messrs. Hall & Co., of Aberdeen, who displayed even more than their usual activity in effecting these necessary alterations, for it was determined that the 'Fox' should sail by the 1st July.

Internally she was fitted up with the strictest economy in every sense, and the officers were crammed into pigeon-holes, styled cabins, in order to make room for provisions and stores; our mess-room, for five persons, measured 8 feet square. The ordinary heating apparatus for winter use was dispensed with, and its place supplied by a few very small stoves. The 'Fox' had been the property of the late Sir Richard Sutton, Bart., who made but one trip to Norway in her, and she was purchased by Lady Franklin from his executors for 2000l.

Having thus far commenced the refit of the vessel, I turned my attention to the selection of a crew and to the requisite clothing and provisions for our voyage.

Many worthy old shipmates, my companions in the previous Arctic voyages, most readily volunteered their services, and they were as cheerfully accepted, for it was my anxious wish to gather round me well-tried men, who were aware of the duties expected of them, and accustomed to naval discipline. Hence, out of the twenty-five souls composing our small company, seventeen had previously served in the Arctic search.

Expeditions of this kind are always popular with seamen, and innumerable were the applications sent to me; but still more abundant were the offers to "serve in any capacity" which poured in from all parts of the country, from people of all classes, many of whom had never seen the sea. It was, of course, impossible to accede to any of these latter proposals, yet, for my own part, I could not but feel gratified at such convincing proofs that the spirit of the country was favorable to us, and that the ardent love of hardy enterprise still lives amongst Englishmen, as of old, to be cherished, I trust, as the most valuable of our national characteristics—as that which has so largely contributed to make England what she is.

My second in command was Lieutenant W. R. Hobson, R.N., an officer already distinguished in Arctic service. Captain Allen Young joined me as sailing-master, contributing not only his valuable services but largely of his private funds to the expedition. This gentleman had previously commanded some of our very finest merchant ships, the latest being the steam-transport 'Adelaide' of 2500 tons: he had but recently returned, in ill health, from the Black Sea, where he was most actively employed during the greater part of the Crimean campaign. Nothing that I could say would add to the merit of such singularly generous and disinterested conduct. David Walker, M.D., volunteered for the post of surgeon and naturalist; he also undertook the photographic department; and just before sailing, Carl Petersen, now so well known to Arctic readers as the Esquimaux interpreter in the expeditions of Captain Penny and Dr. Kane, came to join me from Copenhagen, although landed there from Greenland only six days previously, after an absence of a year from his family: we were indebted to Sir Roderick Murchison and the electric telegraph for securing his valuable services.

Like the Paris omnibuses we were at length tout complet, and quite as anxious to make a start.

Ample provisions for twenty-eight months were embarked, including preserved vegetables, lemon-juice, and pickles, for daily consumption, and preserved meats for every third day: also as much of Messrs. Allsopp's stoutest ale as we could find room for. The Government, although declining to send out an expedition, yet now contributed liberally to our supplies. All our arms, powder, shot, powder for ice-blasting, rockets, maroons, and signal mortar, were furnished by the Board of Ordnance. The Admiralty caused 6682 lbs. of pemmican to be prepared for our use. Not less than 85,000 lbs. of this invaluable food have been prepared since 1845 at the Royal Clarence Victualing Yard, Gosport, for the use of the Arctic Expeditions. It is composed of prime beef cut into thin slices and dried over a wood fire; then pounded up and mixed with about an equal weight of melted beef fat. The pemmican is then pressed into cases capable of containing 42 lbs. each. The Admiralty supplied us with all the requisite ice-gear, such as saws from ten to eighteen feet in length, ice-anchors, and ice-claws: also with our winter housing, medicines, pure lemon-juice, seamen's library, hydrographical instruments, charts, chronometers, and an ample supply of arctic clothing which had remained in store from former expeditions. The Board of Trade contributed a variety of meteorological and nautical instruments and journals; and I found that I had but to ask of these departments for what was required, and if in store it was at once granted. I asked, however, only for such things as were indispensably necessary.

The President and Council of the Royal Society voted the sum of 50l. from their donation fund for the purchase of magnetic and other scientific instruments, in order that our anticipated approach to so interesting a locality as the Magnetic Pole might not be altogether barren of results.

Being desirous to retain for my vessel the privileges she formerly enjoyed as a yacht, my wishes were very promptly gratified; in the first instance by the Royal Harwich Yacht Club, of which my officers and myself were enrolled as members—the Commodore, A. Arcedeckne, Esq., presenting my vessel with the handsome ensign and burgee of the Club; and shortly afterwards by my being elected a member of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club for the period of my voyage. Lastly, upon the very day of sailing, I was proposed for the Royal Yacht Squadron, to which the yacht had previously belonged when the property of Sir Richard Stratton.

Throughout the whole period required for our equipment, I constantly experienced the heartiest co-operation and earnest good will from all with whom my varied duties brought me in contact. Deep sympathy with Lady Franklin in her distress, her self-devotion and sacrifice of fortune, and an earnest desire to extend succor to any chance survivors of the ill-fated expedition who might still exist, or at least, to ascertain their fate, and rescue from oblivion their heroic deeds, seemed the natural promptings of every honest English heart. It is needless to add that this experience of public opinion confirmed my own impression that the glorious mission intrusted to me was in reality a great national duty. I could not but feel that, if the gigantic and admirably equipped national expeditions sent out on precisely the same duty, and reflecting so much credit upon the Board of Admiralty, were ranked amongst the noblest efforts in the cause of humanity any nation ever engaged in, and that, if high honor was awarded to all composing those splendid expeditions, surely the effort became still more remarkable and worthy of approbation when its means were limited to one little vessel, containing but twenty-five souls, equipped and provisioned (although efficiently, yet) in a manner more according with the limited resources of a private individual than with those of the public purse. The less the means, the more arduous I felt was the achievement. The greater the risk—for the 'Fox' was to be launched alone into those turbulent seas from which every other vessel had long since been withdrawn—the more glorious would be the success, the more honorable even the defeat, if again defeat awaits us.

Upon the last day of June, Lady Franklin, accompanied by her niece Miss Sophia Cracroft, and Capt. Maguire, R.N., came on board to bid us farewell, for we purposed sailing in the evening. Seeing how deeply agitated she was on leaving the ship, I endeavored to repress the enthusiasm of my crew, but without avail; it found vent in three prolonged, hearty cheers. The strong feeling which prompted them was truly sincere; and this unbidden exhibition of it can hardly have gratified her for whom it was intended more than it did myself.

I must here insert the only written instructions I could prevail upon Lady Franklin to give me; they were not read until the 'Fox' was fairly in the Atlantic.

We were not destined to get to sea that evening. The 'Fox,' hitherto during her brief career, accustomed only to the restraint imposed upon a gilded pet in summer seas, seemed to have got an inkling that her duty henceforth was to combat with difficulties, and, entering fully into the spirit of the cruise, answered her helm so much more readily than the pilot expected that she ran aground upon the bar. She was promptly shored up, and remained in that position until next morning, when she floated off unhurt at high water, and commenced her long and lonely voyage.

Scarcely had we left the busy world behind us when we were actively engaged in making arrangements for present comfort and future exertion. How busy, how happy, and how full of hope we all were then!

On the night of the 2d of July we passed through the Pentland Firth, where the tide rushing impetuously against a strong wind raised up a tremendous sea, amid which the little vessel struggled bravely under steam and canvas. The bleak wild shores of Orkney, the still wilder pilot's crew, and their hoarse screams and unintelligible dialect, the shrill cry of innumerable sea-birds, the howling breeze and angry sea, made us feel as if we had suddenly awoke in Greenland itself. The southern extremity of that ice-locked continent became visible on the 12th. It is quaintly named Cape Farewell; but whether by some sanguine outward-bound adventurer who fancied that in leaving Greenland behind him he had already secured his passage to Cathay; or whether by the wearied homesick mariner, feebly escaping from the grasp of winter in his shattered bark, and firmly purposing to bid a long farewell to this cheerless land, history altogether fails to enlighten us.

From January until July this coast is usually rendered unapproachable by a broad margin of heavy ice, which drifts there from the vicinity of Spitzbergen, and, lapping round the Cape, extends alongshore to the northward about as far as Baal's River, a distance of 250 miles. Although it effectually blockades the ports of South Greenland for the greater part of the summer, and is justly dreaded by the captains of the Greenland traders, it confers important benefits upon the Greenlander by bearing to his shores immense numbers of seals and many bears. The same current which conveys hither all this ice is also freighted with a scarcely less valuable supply of driftwood from the Siberian rivers.

About this time, one of my crew showing symptoms of diseased lungs, I determined to embrace the earliest opportunity of sending him home out of a climate so fatal to those who are thus affected; and having learnt from Mr. Petersen, who had quitted Greenland only in April last, that a vessel would very soon leave Frederickshaab for Copenhagen, I resolved to go to that place in order to catch this homeward-bound ship.

It was necessary to push through the Spitzbergen ice, and we fortunately succeeded in doing so after eighteen hours of buffeting with this formidable enemy; at first we found it tolerably loose, and the wind being strong and favorable, we thumped along pleasantly enough; but as we advanced, the ice became much more closely packed, a thick fog came on, and many hard knocks were exchanged; at length our steam carried us through into the broad belt of clear water between the ice and land, which Petersen assures me always exists here at this season.

The dense fog now prevented further progress, and as evening closed in I gave up all hope of improvement for the night, when suddenly the fog rolled back upon the land, disclosing some islets close to us, then the rugged points of mainland, and at length, lifting altogether, the distant snowy mountain-peaks against a deep blue sky.

The evening became bright and delightful; the whole extent of coast was fringed with innumerable islets, backed by lofty mountains, and, being richly tinted by a glorious western sun, formed an unusually splendid sight. Greenland unveiled to our anxious gaze that memorable evening, all the magnificence of her natural beauty. Was it to welcome us that she thus cast off her dingy outer mantle, and shone forth radiant with smiles?—such winning smiles!

A faint streak of mist, which we could not account for, appeared to float across a low, wide interval in the mountain range; the telescope revealed its true character,—it was a portion of the distant glacier. We found ourselves upon the Tallard Bank, 30 miles north of our port, having been rapidly carried northwards by the Spitzbergen current.

July 20th.—This morning the chief trader of the settlement, or, as he is more usually styled by the English, the Governor, came off to us, and his pilot soon conducted us into the safe little harbor of Frederickshaab. I was much gratified to learn that we were just in time to secure a passage home for our ailing shipmate.

For trading purposes Greenland is monopolized by the Danish government; its Esquimaux and mixed population amount to about 7000 souls. About 1000 Danes reside constantly there for the purpose of conducting the trade, which consists almost exclusively in the exchange of European goods for oil and the skins of seals, reindeer, and a few other animals.

The Esquimaux are not subject to Danish laws, but although proud of their nominal independence they are sincerely attached to the Danes, and with abundant reason; a Lutheran clergyman, a doctor, and a schoolmaster, whose duty it is to give gratuitous instruction and relief, are paid by the Government, and attached to each district; and when these improvident people are in distress, which not unfrequently happens during the long winters, provisions are issued to them free of cost; spirits are strictly prohibited. All of them have become Christians, and many can read and write.

Have we English done more, or as much, for the aborigines in any of our numerous colonies, and especially for the Esquimaux within our own territories of Labrador and Hudson's Bay?

Greenland is divided into two inspectorates, the northern and southern; the inspector of the latter division, Dr. Rink, had arrived at Frederickshaab upon his summer round of visits only the day previous to ourselves. He came on board to call upon me, and after Divine service I landed, and enjoyed a ramble with him over the moss-clad hills. Our first meeting was in North Greenland, in 1848; we had not seen one another since, so we had much to talk about. Dr. Rink is a gentleman of acknowledged talent, a distinguished traveller, and is thoroughly conversant with the sciences of geology and botany.

Unfortunately for me his excellent work on Greenland has not been translated into English.

We were kindly permitted to purchase eight tons of coals, and such small things as were required; the only fresh supplies to be obtained besides codfish, which was abundant, consisted of a very few ptarmigan and hares, and a couple of kids; these last are scarce. Some goats exist, but for eight months out of the year they are shut up in a house, and even now—in midsummer,—are only let out in the daytime. We also purchased of the Esquimaux some specimens of Esquimaux workmanship, such as models of the native dresses, kayaks, etc., also birds' skins and eggs. I saw fine specimens of a white swan, and of a bird said to be extremely rare in Greenland,—it was a species of grebe, Podiceps cristatus, I imagine. Frederickshaab is just now well supplied with wood: besides an unseaworthy brig, the wreck of a large timber-ship lay on the beach, and an abandoned timber-vessel, which was met with between Iceland and Greenland in July by Prince Napoleon, drifted upon the coast 30 miles to the northward in the following September.

CHAPTER II.

23rd July.—Sailed the day before yesterday for Godhaab. The fog was thick, and wind strong and contrary, but the current being favorable we found ourselves off the small out-station of Fiskernaes, when early this morning our fore topmast was carried away; this accident induced me to run in and anchor for the purpose of repairing the damage.

After passing within the outer islets, the Moravian settlement of Lichtenfels came in view upon the right hand; it consists of a large, sombre-looking wooden house, over which is a belfry, a smaller wooden house, and about a dozen native huts, roofed with sods, and scarcely distinguishable from the ground they stand on, even at a very short distance. The land immediately behind is a barren rocky steep, now just sufficiently denuded of snow to look desolate in the extreme. A strong tide was setting out of the fiord, as we approached, and anchored in the rocky little cove of Fiskernaes; here we were not only sheltered from the wind, but the steep dark rocks within a ship's length on each side of us, reflected a strong heat, whilst large mosquitoes lost no time in paying us their annoying visits. This remote spot has been visited by the Arctic voyagers, Captain Inglefield, R.N., and Dr. Kane, U.S.N., and still more recently by Prince Napoleon. Dr. Kane's account of his visit is full and very interesting. Cod-fishing was now in full activity, and the few men not so employed had gone up the fiord to hunt reindeer.

The solitary dwelling-house belongs, of course, to the chief trader, and is a model of cleanliness and order; built of wood, it exhibits all the resources of the painter's art; the exterior is a dull red, the window-frames are white, floors yellow, wooden partitions and low ceilings pale blue. The lady of the house had resided here for about eight years, and appeared to us to be, and acknowledged she was, heartily tired of the solitude. She gave me coffee, and some seeds for cultivation at our winter quarters; these were lettuce, spinach, turnips, caraway and peas, the latter being the common kind used on board ship; usually they have only produced leaves on this spot, but once the young peas grew large enough for the table. I expressed a wish to see the interior of an Esquimaux tent. Petersen pulled aside the thin membrane of some animal, which hung across the doorway, and served to exclude the wind, but admitted light, for, although past midnight, the sun was up. Some seven or eight individuals lay within, closely packed upon the ground; the heads of old and young, males and females, being just visible above the common covering. Going to bed here, only means lying down with your clothes on, upon a reindeer skin, wherever you can find room, and pulling another fur-robe over you.

Fiskernaes appeared to be a sunny little nook, yet all the people we saw there were suffering from colds and coughs, and many deaths had occurred during the spring. The boys brought us handfuls of rough garnets, some of them as large as walnuts, receiving with evident satisfaction biscuits in exchange.

By next morning we were able to put to sea, and early on the day following arrived off the large settlement of Godhaab; it is in the "Gilbert Sound" of Davis, and appears in many old charts as Baal's River. Almost adjoining Godhaab is the Moravian settlement of New Herrnhut. Here it was that Hans Egede, the missionary father of Greenland, established himself in 1721, and thus re-opened the communication between Europe and Greenland, which had ceased upon the extinction of its early Scandinavian settlers, in the 14th century.

A few years after Egede's successful beginning the Moravian mission still existing under the name of New Herrnhut was established. At present the Moravians support four missions in Greenland; they are not subject to the Danish authorities, but are not permitted in any way to trade.

As we were about to enter the harbor, the Danish vessel—the sole object of our visit—came out, so not a moment was lost in sending on board our invalid and our letter-bag, and in landing our coasting pilot. This man had brought us up from Frederickshaab for the very moderate sum of three pounds; he was an Esquimaux, and, as the brother of poor Hans, Dr. Kane's unhappy dog-driver, was received with favor amongst us, and soon won our esteem by his quiet, obliging disposition, as also by his ability in the discharge of his duty; he was so keen-sighted, and so vigilant, it was quite a comfort to have him on board during the foggy weather, for he could recognize, on the instant, every rock or point, even when dimly looming through the mist. We were not long in discovering that his absence was a loss to us.

When passing out to the north of the Kookornen Islands, the wind suddenly failed, and at the same time a swell from to seaward reached us; we therefore had considerable difficulty in towing the ship clear of the rocks; for nearly half an hour our position was most critical.

July 31st.—Anchored at Godhaven (or Lievely), in Disco, for a few hours. I presented a letter from the Directors of the Royal Greenland Commerce to the Inspector of North Greenland, Mr. Olrik, authorising him to furnish us with any needful supplies. Our only wants were sledge-dogs and a native to manage them. We soon obtained ten of the former, but were advised to go into Disco Fiord, where many of the Esquimaux were busy in taking and drying salmon-trout, and where some would most probably be obtained.

I was much pleased with Mr. Olrik's kind reception of me, and soon found him to be not only agreeable but well informed; born in Greenland, of Danish parents, he is thoroughly conversant with the language and habits of the Esquimaux, and has devoted much of his leisure time in collecting rare specimens of the animal, vegetable, and mineral productions of the country. I came away enriched by some fossils from the fossil forest of Atanekerdluk, also with specimens of native coal.

It was here I met with the late commanders of the whalers 'Gipsy' and 'Undaunted,' of Peterhead, which had been crushed by the ice in Melville Bay, five or six weeks previously; all the other whalers had returned from the north, along the pack edge, and passed south of Disco. They said that the ice in Melville Bay was all broken up, and that they thought we should find but little difficulty at this late period in passing through it into the North Water.

Leaving Godhaven in the afternoon with a native pilot, we found ourselves some 10 or 12 miles up Disco Fiord at an early hour next morning. After despatching the pilot to announce our arrival to his countrymen at their fishing station, 7 or 8 miles further up, the Doctor and I landed upon the north side to explore.

The scenery is charming, lofty hills of trap rock, with unusually rich slopes (for the 70th parallel) descending to the fiord, and strewed with boulders of gneiss and granite. We found the blue campanula holding a conspicuous place amongst the wild flowers. I do not know a more enticing spot in Greenland for a week's shooting, fishing, and yachting than Disco Fiord; hares and ptarmigan may be found along the bases of the hills; ducks are most abundant upon the fiord, and delicious salmon-trout very plentiful in the rivers. Formerly Disco was famed for the large size and abundance of its reindeer; but for some unexplained reason they now confine themselves to the mainland.

At this season the natives of Godhaab resort here and enjoy the trout fishery,—it is truly their season of harvest: the weather is pleasant, food delicious and abundant, and the labor an agreeable pastime.

Some kayaks soon came off to the ship, bringing salmon-trout, both fresh and smoked.

A young Esquimaux, named Christian, volunteered his services as our dog-driver, and was accepted; he is about 23 years of age, unmarried, and an orphan. The men soon thoroughly washed and cropped him: soap and scissors being novelties to an Esquimaux: they then rigged him in sailor's clothes; he was evidently not at home in them, but was not the less proud of his improved appearance, as reflected in the admiring glances of his countrymen.

We now hastened away to the Waigat Strait to complete our coals. When passing Godhaven, the pilot was launched off our deck in his little kayak without stopping the ship! As a kayak is usually about 18 feet long, 8 inches deep, and only 16 or 17 inches wide, it requires great expertness to perform such a feat without the addition of a capsize.

4th August.—Entered the Waigat yesterday morning, slowly steaming through a sea of glass. Its surface was only rippled by the myriads of eider-ducks which extended over it for several miles: most of them were immature in plumage, and were probably the birds of last year.

After running about 24 miles, towards evening we approached a low range of sandstone cliffs on the Disco shore, in which horizontal seams of coal were seen. Here we anchored, and immediately commenced coaling. It was fortunate we did so, for soon it began to blow hard; and ere noon to-day we were obliged, for the safety of the ship, to leave our exposed anchorage, having however secured eight or nine tons of tolerable coal. Formerly these coal-seams were worked for the supply of the neighboring settlements, but for several years past it has been found more profitable and convenient to send out coals from Denmark, and thus permit the natives to devote their whole time to the seal-fishery.

The Waigat scenery is unusually grand; the strait varies from 3 to 5 leagues in width; on each side are mountains of 3000 feet in height. The Disco side, upon which we landed, is composed of trap, sandstone appearing only at the beach, and occasionally rising in cliffs to about 100 feet. Upon the moss-clad slopes many fragments of quartz and zeolite were met with. The north end of Disco is almost a precipice to its snow-capped summit, which is 4000 feet high.

5th.—A pleasant fair wind carries us rapidly northward, passing many icebergs. Our rigging is richly garnished with split codfish, which we hoped would dry and keep; but a warm day in Disco Fiord, and much rain with a southerly gale in the Waigat, have destroyed it for our own use. It is however still valuable as food for our dogs. I am very anxious to complete my stock of these our native auxiliaries, as without them we cannot hope to explore all the lands which it is the object of our voyage to search. We could only obtain ten at Godhaven, and require twenty more.

6th.—By Petersen's intimate knowledge of the coast we were enabled to run close in to the little settlement of Proven during the night, and obtain a few dogs and dogs' food. This morning we reached the extreme station of Upernivik, the last trace of civilization we shall meet with for some time. It is in lat. 72¾° N. Here Petersen resided for twelve of the eighteen years he has spent in Greenland, and his unlooked-for re-appearance astonished and delighted the small community, more especially Governor Fliescher and his household, who received us with a most hearty welcome.

7th.—Yesterday, when we hove to off Upernivik, the weather was very bad and rapidly growing worse, therefore our stay was limited to a couple of hours. The last letters for home were landed, fourteen dogs and a quantity of seal's flesh for them embarked, and the ship's head was turned seaward.

It was then blowing a southerly gale, with overcast murky sky, and a heavy sea running. When four miles outside the outer island, breakers were suddenly discovered ahead, only just in time to avoid the ledge of sunken rocks upon which the sea was beating most violently. Many such rocks lie at considerable distances beyond the islands which border this coast, and greatly add to the dangers of its navigation. Being now fairly at sea, and the ship under easy sail for the night, I went early to bed in the hope of sleeping. I had been up all the previous night, naturally anxious about the ship threading her way through so many dangers, uncertain about being able to complete the number of our sledge-dogs, and much occupied in closing my correspondence, to which there would be an end for at least a year. All this over, the uncertain future loomed ominously before me. The great responsibilities I had undertaken seemed now and at once to fall with all their weight upon me. A mental whirlpool was the consequence, which, backed by the material storm, and the howling of the wretched dogs in concert on deck, together with the tumbling about of every thing below, long kept sleep in abeyance.

One thought and feeling predominated: it was gratitude, deep and humble, for the success which had hitherto attended us, and for some narrow escapes which I must ever regard as Providential.

Yesterday's gale has given place to calm foggy weather. An occasional iceberg is seen. The officers amuse themselves in trying new guns, and shooting sea-birds for our dogs.

Governor Fliescher told me yesterday that for the last four weeks southerly winds prevailed, and that only a fortnight ago his boat was unable to reach the Loom Cliffs at Cape Shackleton, 50 miles north of Upernivik, in consequence of the ice being pressed in against the land. I fear these same winds have closed together the ice which occupies the middle of Davis' Strait (hence called the middle ice), so that we shall not be able to penetrate it. However, we are standing out to make the attempt.

To the uninitiated it may be as well to observe that each winter the sea called Baffin's Bay freezes over; in spring this vast body of ice breaks up, and drifting southward in a mass—called the main-pack, or the middle ice—obstructs the passage across from east to west.

The "North Passage" is made by sailing round the north end of this pack; the "Middle Passage," by pushing through it; and the "Southern Passage," by passing round its southern extreme; but seasons do occur when none of these routes are practicable.

It is very remarkable that southward of Disco northerly winds have prevailed. They greatly impeded our progress up Davis' Strait, but we cheered ourselves with the hope that they would effectually clear a path for us across the northern part of Baffin's Bay.

8th.—Last night we reached the edge of the middle ice, about 70 miles to the west of Upernivik, and ran southward along its edge all night. This morning, in thick fog, the ship was caught in its margin of loose ice. The fog soon after cleared off, and we saw the clear sea about two miles to the eastward, whilst all to the west was impenetrable closely-packed floe-pieces. After steaming out of our predicament (a matter which we could not accomplish under sail) we ran on to the southward until evening, but found the pack edge still composed of light ice very closely pressed together.

Having now closely examined it for an extent of 40 miles, I was satisfied that we could not force a passage through it across Baffin's Bay, as is frequently done in ordinary seasons; therefore, taking advantage of a fair wind, we steered to the northward, in order to seek an opening in that direction.

12th.—We are in Melville Bay; made fast this afternoon to an iceberg, which lies aground in 58 fathoms water, about 2 miles from Browne's Islands, and between them and the great glacier which here takes the place of the coast-line.

We have got thus far without any difficulty, sailing along the edge of the middle ice; but here we find it pressing in against Browne's Islands, and covering the whole bay to the northward, quite in the steep face of the glacier. This is evidently the result of long-continued southerly winds; but as the ice is very much broken up, we may expect it to move off rapidly before the autumnal northerly winds now due, and these winds invariably remove the previous season's ice. All that we know of Melville Bay navigation in August, is derived from the experience of Government and private searching expeditions during eight or nine seasons. My own three previous transits across it were made in this month. The whalers either get through in June or July, or give up the attempt as being too late for their fishing. It frequently happens that they get round the south end of the middle ice, between latitudes 66° and 69° N., and up the west coast of Baffin's Bay late in the season; but we have no accounts of these voyages, nor should I be justified, at this late period of the season, in abandoning the prospect before me, in order to attempt a route which, even if successful, would lengthen our voyage to Barrow Strait by 700 or 800 miles. We have already passed what is usually the most difficult and dangerous part of the Melville Bay transit.

There is much to excite intense admiration and wonder around us; one cannot at once appreciate the grandeur of this mighty glacier, extending unbroken for 40 or 50 miles. Its sea-cliffs, about 5 or 6 miles from us, appear comparatively low, yet the icebergs detached from it are of the loftiest description. Here, on the spot, it does not seem incorrect to compare the icebergs to mere chippings off its edge, and the floe-ice to the thinnest shavings.

The far-off outline of glacier, seen against the eastern sky, has a faint tinge of yellow; it is almost horizontal, and of unknown distance and elevation.

There is an unusual dearth of birds and seals; everything around us is painfully still, excepting when an occasional iceberg splits off from the parent glacier; then we hear a rumbling crash like distant thunder, and the wave occasioned by the launch reaches us in six or seven minutes, and makes the ship roll lazily for a similar period. I cannot imagine that within the whole compass of nature's varied aspects, there is presented to the human eye a scene so well adapted for promoting deep and serious reflection, for lifting the thoughts from trivial things of every day life to others of the highest import.

The glacier serves to remind one at once of Time and of Eternity—of time, since we see portions of it break off to drift and melt away; and of eternity, since its downward march is so extremely slow, and its augmentations behind so regular, that no change in its appearance is perceptible from age to age. If even the untaught savages of luxuriant tropical regions regard the earth merely as a temporary abode, surely all who gaze upon this ice-overwhelmed region, this wide expanse of "terrestrial wreck," must be similarly assured that here "we have no abiding place."