the ice; but the winter is then near at hand, and presents a serious source of danger; for if the ice once closes around you, the first fall of temperature may glue you fast for the next ten months to come. The whalers usually take the pack in May or June, and even sometimes earlier, when the ice is hard and is just beginning to break up.
A SNOW-STORM. When we entered Melville Bay there were but eight days remaining to us of the month of August. I had to regret the loss of time at the settlements; but this was unavoidable. Before leaving Upernavik I had resolved upon the course which I would pursue,—to take the pack whenever we should find it, enter it at the most favorable opening, and, without looking for the land ice, to make the most direct line for Cape York. It was much in our favor that the wind had prevailed for many days from the eastward, and had apparently pushed the whole pack over toward the American side, opening for us a clear, broad expanse of water. Would it so remain, and give us a free passage to Cape York? I have already said that I saw its reflection over the clouds,—the "ice-blink" to the westward. It was not far away. Would it remain so?
While reflecting upon the chances ahead the wind rose, and blew half a gale. A heavy sea was getting up behind us. A dark cloud, which had hung upon the southern horizon for some time, came climbing up the sky, and at length spreading itself out in flying fragments, it shook over us a shower of frozen vapor, and then settled into a regular snow storm. Unable to see fifty yards on either side, I came down from my uncomfortable perch on the fore-yard.
It became now a subject for serious consideration
