“There is always ice on that side of the land, Hazard, and you may have seen the blink of the bergs which have hugged the cliffs in that quarter all summer.  Still, that is not proving we shall find no outlet.  This craft can go through a very small passage, and we must take care and find one in proper time.  Wintering here is out of the question.  A hundred reasons tell us not to think of such a thing, besides the interests of our owners.  We are walking along this floe pretty fast, though I think the vessel is too much by the head; don’t it strike you so, Hazard?”

“Lord, sir, it’s nothing but the ice that has made, and is making for’ard!  Before we got so near the field as to find a better lee, the little lipper that came athwart our bows froze almost as soon as it wet us.  I do suppose, sir, there are now several tons of ice on our bows, counting from channel to channel, forward.”

On an examination this proved to be true, and the knowledge of the circumstance did not at all contribute to Gardiner’s feeling of security.  He saw there was no time to be lost, and he crowded sail with a view of forcing the vessel past the dangers if possible, and of getting her into a milder climate.  But even a fast-sailing schooner will scarcely equal our wishes under such circumstances.  There was no doubt that the Sea Lion’s speed was getting to be affected by the manner in which her bows were weighed down by ice, in addition to the discomfort produced by cold, damp, and the presence of a slippery substance on the deck and rigging.  Fortunately there was not much spray flying, or matters would have been much worse.  As it was, they were bad enough, and very ominous of future evil.

While the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond was running along the margin of the ice in the manner just described, and after the blink to the westward had changed to a visible field, making it very uncertain whether any egress was to be found in that quarter or not, an opening suddenly appeared trending to the northward, and sufficiently wide, as Roswell thought, to enable him to beat through it.  Putting his helm down, his schooner came heavily round, and was filled on a course that soon carried her half a mile into this passage.  At first, everything seemed propitious, the channel rather opening than otherwise, while the course was such—­north-north-west—­as enabled the vessel to very long legs on one tack, and that the best.  After going about four or five times, however, all these flattering symptoms suddenly changed, by the passage’s terminating in a cul de sac.  Almost at the same instant the ice closed rapidly in the schooner’s wake.  An effort was made to run back, but it failed in consequence of an enormous floe’s turning on its centre, having met resistance from a field closer in, that was, in its turn, stopped by the rocks.  Roswell saw at once that nothing could be done at the moment.  He took in all his canvass, as well as the frozen cloth could be handled, got out ice-anchors, and hauled his vessel into a species of cove where there would be the least danger of a nip, should the fields continue to close.