The Romanzoff Mountains were visible in all their grandeur, the loftier peaks being freshly wrapped in snow. We next shaped our course across Camden Bay, steering among the ice under reefed foresails only, till we had passed the scene of our former adventures, when, finding a clearer sea, we set the mainsails, and scudded along at the rate of seven knots an hour. The wind still augmented, a sprinkling of snow fell, and it was bitterly cold. The setting sun glared through angry clouds as we landed on Barter Island, where we regaled ourselves before immense fires of drift timber. Before midnight we re-embarked, and, steering within the reefs for some time, enjoyed a smooth run.
We had no sooner lost the shelter of the reefs than we became exposed to a huge rolling sea, and, as we shot from the crests of the waves into the trough beneath, the gallant little consorts fairly lost sight of each other, till they rose again bounding over the billows.
At 7 in the morning of the 11th we reached Beaufort Bay, where we regained the protection of the seaward ice. It was piercingly cold; the water froze in the kegs; several light snowshowers fell, and the British range of mountains had assumed the livery of another winter. We passed a small camp of Esquimaux without no-
