LOSING OUR WAY. 
281 
larities of,the surface, broken by hummocks, and occa¬ 
sionally by larger masses, made it difficult to see far 
ahead; besides which, we were often embarrassed by 
the fogs. I was awakened one evening from a weary 
sleep in my fox-skins, to discover that we had fairly 
lost our way. The officer at the helm of the leading 
boat, misled by the irregular shape of a large iceberg 
that crossed his track, had lost the main lead some 
time before, and was steering shoreward far out of the 
true course. The little canal in which he had locked 
us was hardly two boats’-lengths across, and lost itself 
not far off in a feeble zigzag both behind and before us: 
it was evidently closing, and we could not retreat. 
Without apprising the men of our misadventure, I 
ordered the boats hauled up, and, under pretence of 
drying the clothing and stores, made a camp on the ice. 
A few hours after, the weather cleared enough for the 
first time to allow a view of the distance, and McGary 
and myself climbed a berg some three hundred feet 
high for the purpose. It was truly fearful: we were 
deep in the recesses of the bay, surrounded on all sides 
by stupendous icebergs and tangled floe-pieces. My 
sturdy second officer, not naturally impressible, and 
long accustomed to the vicissitudes of whaling life, 
shed tears at the prospect. 
There was but one thing to be done: cost what it 
might, we must harness our sledges again and retrace 
our way to the westward. One sledge had been already 
used for firewood; the Bed Eric, to which it had be¬ 
longed, was now cut up, and her light cedar planking 
