The presence of this bear warned me that the pack could not be very remote, and accordingly we shortened sail, and I took my old station aloft on the fore-yard. Sure enough the pack was there, as was soon evidenced by an "ice-blink," and in a little while we were close upon it. Hauling by the wind, we skirted its margin for some time without discovering any termination to it; and, the ice appearing to be very loose and rotten, I stood away again on our southerly course, and entered the first favorable lead. It was something of a venture, as we could not, although the ice was wholly different front that of Smith Sound, owing to the condition of the schooner's bows, strike it with safety. Luckily the wind favored us, and the schooner answering her helm promptly, we managed to avoid the floes for about twelve hours, at least without a thump of any serious consequence, at the end of which time the wind had fallen to calm; and this continuing for some time, with the temperature several degrees below freezing, new ice was formed more than half an inch thick, all over the sea.
A light and fair breeze springing up again, we were once more under way, crunching through this crystal sheet much to the damage of the schooner's sides, where there was no iron, and very embarrassing to our progress, for we were often absolutely stuck fast. We were glad enough when the breeze stiffened and knocked the ice to pieces, giving us a free passage into the "East Water."
We made land on the morning of the 12th, and found it to be the Horse's Head. The pack was now far behind us, and our southern passage through Melville Bay had been made in about five hours less time than our northern.
From the Horse's Head we jogged on through a foggy atmosphere with occasional thick squalls of snow and light variable winds, until after three days' groping we found ourselves again at anchor in Upernavik harbor.
NEWS FROM HOME.
While the chain was yet clicking in the hawse-hole, an old Dane, dressed in seal-skins, and possessing a small stock of English and a large stock of articles to trade, pulled off to us with an Esquimau crew, and, with little ceremony, clambered over the gangway. Knorr met him, and, without any ceremony at all, demanded the news.
"Oh! dere's plenty news."
"Out with it, man! What is it?"
"Oh! de Sout' States dey go agin de Nort' States, and dere's plenty fight."
I heard the answer, and, wondering what strange complication of European politics had kindled another Continental war, called this Polar Eumæus to the quarter-deck. Had he any news from America?