CHAPTER XXVIII. 
We remained during the rest of this month ice-cra- 
dled, and drifting about near the outlet of Wellington 
Channel. Occasionally a strong southerly wind would 
set us back again to the north, as far, perhaps, as Bar- 
low’s Inlet ; hut it was soon apparent that the greater 
compactness of the harrier that had come down after 
us, and the force of some unknown current, were re- 
sisting our progress in that direction. A northerly 
wind, on the other hand, seemed to have no counter- 
acting influences. A little while after it began to 
blow, open leads would present themselves under our 
lee, and the floe which imbedded us moved gradually 
and without conflict through them toward the south. 
Our thoughts turned irresistibly to the broad expanse 
of Lancaster Sound, which lay wild and rugged be- 
fore us, and to the increasing probability that it was 
to be our fleld of trial during the long, dark winter — 
perhaps our final home. 
With this feeling came an increasing desire to com- 
municate with our late associates of Union Bay. I 
had volunteered some weeks before to make this trav- 
erse, and had busied myself with arrangements to car- 
ry it out. The Rescue’s India-rubber boat was to car- 
ry the party through the leads, and, once at the shore, 
three men were to press on with a light tent and a 
few days provisions. The project, impracticable per- 
haps from the first, was foiled for a time by a vexa- 
tious incident. I had made my tent of thin cotton 
cloth, so that it weighed, when completed, but four- 
