annual return of net profit for the King of Denmark of ten thousand dollars! How many nations of this modern day do better? And, with this fact before us, why shall not the same occur (adopting the same plan) in the land of the Esquimaux on the west side of Davis's Straits? Let my countrymen look to it whenever the first opportunity arrives.
On the 27th day of September (1860) there broke upon us that fearful gale which caused the loss of my expedition boat and the far-famed Rescue, drove the Georgiana on shore, and came near proving the destruction of the George Henry and all on board. As it was of so serious a character, I will here give the particulars in detail.
Wednesday, the 26th, commenced with light winds from the N.E. At noon it began to snow, with an increasing breeze. At 1 p.m. all the boats came on board from their cruising-ground, and preparations were made for bad weather. The wind now rapidly increased to a gale, and at 8 p.m. the second anchor was let go, with all the cable given that could be allowed without letting the George Henry get too near the rocky island astern of us. The schooner Rescue, at this time, was about fifty fathoms distant on our starboard bow, and the brig Georgiana a little more easterly. At 9 p.m. the gale was still increasing, and a heavy sea rising. At this time the deck watch came in the cabin and reported that the Rescue was dragging her anchors, and as we looked upon her dark form through the thick darkness of the night, it seemed, as she kept moving by, that her destruction was inevitable and immediate. But, when abeam of us, she held on, though pitching and surging heavily. The Georgiana was seen but faintly, and it appeared as if she, too, was in great danger.
At 11 p.m. it was blowing a perfect hurricane, with thick snow, and just then we could perceive the brig driving astern toward the island. She had, as we afterward learned, broken her small anchor, and dragged her large one. On she went, driving heavily, amid the wild stir of the elements, and the awful darkness of that snow-storm night—on and on, with nothing to save her, until presently we could see she had
