Bellot Sound, a mile broad and seventeen long, with a current running six or seven knots, is enclosed by mountains of an estimated height of sixteen hundred feet; it separates North Somerset from Boothia; it is easy to see that there is not too much sailing room there. The Forward advanced carefully, but still she advanced; tempests are frequent in this narrow pass, and the brig did not escape their usual violence; by Hatteras's orders, all the topsail-yards were lowered, and the topmasts also; in spite of everything the ship labored fearfully; the heavy seas kept the deck continually deluged with water; the smoke flew eastward with inconceivable rapidity; they went on almost at haphazard through the floating ice; the barometer fell to 29°;[*] it was hard to stay on deck, so most of the men were kept below to spare them unnecessary exposure.
Hatteras, Johnson, and Shandon remained on the quarter-deck, in spite of the whirlwinds of snow and rain; and the doctor, who had just asked himself what was the most disagreeable thing to be done at that time, soon joined them there; they could not hear, and hardly could they see, one another; so he kept his thoughts to himself.
Hatteras tried to pierce the dense cloud of mist, for, according to his calculation, they should be through the strait at six o'clock of the evening. At that time exit seemed closed, and Hatteras was obliged to stop and anchor to an iceberg; but steam was kept up all night.
The weather was terrible. Every moment the Forward threatened to snap her cables; there was danger, too, lest the mountain should be driven by the wind and crush the brig. The officers kept on the alert, owing to their extreme anxiety; besides the snow, large lumps of frozen spray were blown about by the hurricane like sharp arrows.
The temperature arose strangely in that terrible night; the thermometer marked 57°; and the doctor, to his great surprise, thought he noticed some flashes of lightning followed by distant thunder. This seemed to corroborate the testimony of Scoresby, who noticed the same phenomenon above latitude 65°. Captain Parry also observed it in 1821.
Towards five o'clock in the morning the weather changed with singular rapidity; the temperature fell to the freezing-point; the wind shifted to the north and grew quiet. The western opening of the strait could be seen, but it was entirely closed. Hatteras gazed anxiously at the coast, asking himself if there really were any exit.
Nevertheless, the brig put out slowly into the ice-streams, while the ice crushed noisily against her bows; the packs at this time were six or seven feet thick; it was necessary carefully to avoid them, for if the ship should try to withstand them, it ran the risk of being lifted half out of the water and cast on her beam-ends.
At noon, for the first time, a magnificent solar phenomenon could be observed, a halo with two parhelions; the doctor observed it, and took its exact dimensions; the exterior arc was only visible for about thirty degrees each side of the horizontal diameter; the two images of the sun were remarkably clear; the colors within the luminous area were, going toward the outside, red, yellow, green, faint blue, and last of all white, gently fading away, without any sharp line of termination.