breeze, under which we passed up to the first ice-pack I had ever seen.
While engaged in conversation an inexperienced hand at the wheel
brought us so close to a small cake of ice, about the size of a
schooner, that collision was inevitable. A long projection beneath the
water had a most dangerous look, but fortunately was so deep that the
keel of the 'Eothen' ran up on it and somewhat deadened her
headway. Long poles were got out at once, and, all hands pushing,
succeeded after a while in getting her clear without damage; but it was
a perilous moment.

We worked over toward the south side of the straits, and found a
channel through which we could make but slow progress. The wind
increased and blew terrifically all night, forcing the vessels to beat
back and forth in the mouth of the straits, and we had a similar
experience on the night of the 22d, running the gauntlet under reefed
mainsail and jib through loose ice and in imminent danger of shipwreck.
Next day the ice appeared somewhat open, and Captain Barry concluded to
venture into the pack. When we got into clear water we worked up to the
bulkhead of ice and passed Resolution Island. We were almost as glad to
get rid of it as we had been to see it, nearly a week before. All the
icebergs we saw were aground, and several of them had arches cut into
their sides, which looked as if our vessel might safely sail inside and
secure a harbor. We worked up beyond the Lower Savage Islands, and in
sight of the Middle Savage and Saddleback Rock.

When we went to bed the weather was a dead calm, and the water of
glassy smoothness. Not a sound was to be heard save the distant thunder
of bursting icebergs and the water swashing up against the field-ice
that now and then passed with the current. It sounded for all the world
like waves upon a rock-bound coast, or like the distant rumbling of a