ENTERING MELVILLE BAY.—THE MIDDLE ICE.—THE GREAT POLAR CURRENT—A SNOW STORM.—ENCOUNTER WITH AN ICEBERG.—MAKING CAPE YORK—RESCUE OF HANS.
The sun was now no longer above the horizon at midnight, and the nights were growing gloomy, a circumstance which warned us to additional carefulness.
Notwithstanding our precautions, we narrowly escaped running upon a sunken reef which lies off the Horse's Head, and is not laid down on the chart. We came also among some ice-fields, the first that we had yet encountered. The waves were rolling in threateningly from the southwest, and the ice, tossing madly upon them, gave us an uncomfortable sense of insecurity; but we escaped into clear water after receiving a few thumps which did no material damage to our solid bows.
By eight o'clock in the morning we had Wilcox Point clearly in view, and the Devil's Thumb loomed above a light cloud which floated along its base. Before us lay Melville Bay. Climbing to the fore-yard, I swept the horizon with my glass;—there was no ice in sight except here and there a vagrant berg. To the westward an "ice-blink" showed us that the "pack" lay there; but before us all was clear,—nothing in sight but the "swelling and limitless billows."
No discovery of my life ever gave me greater gratification. The fortunes of the expedition were, at
