82 BACK IN SMITH'S SOUND. 



forced to make sail. The mainsail went to pieces as 

 soon as it was set, and we were once more in great 

 jeopardy; but fortunately the storm abated, and we 

 have since been threshing to windward, and are once 

 more within Smith's Sound. Again the gale appears 

 to have broken ; the northern sky is clear. Our spars 

 will not allow us to carry jib and topsail ; — bad for 

 entering the pack. 



The temperature is 22°, and the decks are again 

 shppery with ice. Forward, the ropes, blocks, stays, 

 halyards, and every thing else, are covered with a 

 solid coating, and icicles a foot long hang from the 

 monkey-rail and rigging. If they look pretty enough 

 in the sunlight, they have a very wintry aspect, and 

 are not at all becoming to a ship. 



I tried this morning to reach Cape Isabella, but met 

 the pack where it had obstructed us before. Some 

 patches of open water were observed in the midst of 

 it; but we found it impossible to penetrate the inter- 

 vening ice. My only chance now is to work up the 

 Greenland coast, get hold of the fast ice, and, through 

 such leads as must have been opened by the wind 

 liigher up the Sound, endeavor to effect a passage to 

 the opposite shore. Of reaching that shore I do not 

 yet despair, although the wind has apparently packed 

 the ice upon it to such a degree that it looks like a 

 hopeless undertaking. I have already an eye upon 

 Fog Inlet, twenty miles above Cape Alexander on 

 the Greenland coast, and I shall now try to reach that 

 point for a new start. 



While I write the wind is freshening, and under 

 close-reefed sails we are making a little progress. My 

 poor sailors have a sorry time of it, with the stiffened 

 ropes. The schooner, everywhere above the water, is 



