414 WAITING FOR A WIND. 



July 12th. 



The swell has subsided, the storm clouds have 

 cleared away, and the tide is scattering the ice out 

 over the sea. We are fairly and truly afloat, and 

 once more cannot leave the deck without a boat. It 

 is just ten months to a day since we were locked up, 

 during which time our little craft has been a house 

 rather than a ship. We are glad to feel again the 

 motion of the sea ; and " man the boat " seems a 

 novel order to give when one wants to go ashore. 

 We await only a wind to send us to sea. 



July ISth. 



Still calm, and we are lying quietly among the ice 

 which so lately held us prisoners. I have been ashore, 

 taking leave of my friends the Esquimaux. They 

 have pitched their tents near by, and, poor fellows ! I 

 am truly sorry to leave them. They have all been 

 faithful, each in his way, and they have done me most 

 important service. The alacrity with w^iich they have 

 placed their dogs at my disposal (and without these 

 dogs I could have done absolutely nothing) is the 

 strongest proof that they could give me of their de- 

 votion and regard ; for their dogs are to them inval- 

 uable treasures, without which they have no secu- 

 rity against want and starvation, to themselves and 

 their wives and children. True, I have done them 

 some good, and have given them presents of great 

 value, yet nothing can supply the place of a lost 

 dog ; and out of all that I obtained from them, 

 there were but two animals that survived the hard- 

 ships of my spring journey. These I have returned 

 to their original owners. I have given them high 

 hopes of my speedy return, and in this prospect they 

 appear to take consolation. 



