270 Dreary Prospects. 



put up, yards squared, and we are running north 

 before a light southerly wind. I am afraid it will 

 take us at least two days to get round the north 

 end of the middle ice. 



Wednesday , August 27th. — The last three days 

 have added nothing to our progress. In fact, our 

 prospects of getting home are not nearly so bright 

 as they were fifteen days ago, when the announce- 

 ment that we were homeward bound was received 

 with three cheers by all hands. We have unfor- 

 tunately seen fish, and our captain seems bent on 

 getting more ; he says, " he will be happy with ane 

 or twa mair." The weather is thick, and raining 

 heavily; we are about seventy miles from land, 

 somewhere in the latitude of Cape Hewitt, and are 

 made fast to a floe, taking in water. It is next to 

 impossible to do anything. Euchre commenced at 

 half-past 9 this forenoon, and even with my cabin 

 door shut I cannot avoid hearing incessantly from 

 the adjoining cabin, " What's trumps ?" " Steward, 

 a mouthful more of that brandy ; " " Who played 

 the rag?" "That's mines;" "Guess you're con- 

 siderably euchred;" and various other expressions 

 in Scotch, Yankee, and German accents. Occa- 

 sionally this is varied by a song or story from the 

 skipper. Oh ! for a fresh southerly wind, with no 

 fish to be seen, and we might have a chance of 

 getting round the middle ice into the east water, 

 and then bear away for home. 



