At seven P.M. we shipped the rudder and crossed the top-gallant yards in readiness for moving; and then I ascended the hill and walked a mile to the westward, along the brow of it, that not a moment might be lost after the ice to the westward should give us the slightest hope of making any progress by getting under way. Although the holes had certainly increased in size and extent, there was still not sufficient room even for one of our boats to work to windward; and the impossibility of the ships’ doing so was rendered more apparent, on account of the current which, as I have before had occasion to remark, is always produced in these seas soon after the springing up of a breeze, and which was now running to the eastward at the rate of at least one mile per hour. It was evident that any attempt to get the ships to the westward must, under circumstances so unfavourable, be attended with the certain consequence of their being drifted the contrary way; and nothing could therefore be done but still to watch, which we did most anxiously, every alteration in the state of the ice. The wind, however, decreasing as the night came on, served to diminish the hopes with which we had flattered ourselves of being speedily extricated from our present confined and dangerous situation.
The weather was foggy for some hours in the morning of the 11th, but cleared up in the afternoon as the sun acquired power. The wind increased to a fresh gale from the eastward at nine P.M., being the second time that it had done so while we had been lying at this station; a circumstance which we were the more inclined to notice, as the easterly winds had hitherto been more faint and less frequent than those from the westward. In this respect, therefore, we considered ourselves unfortunate, as experience had already shown us that none but a westerly wind ever produced upon this coast, or, indeed, on the southern coast of any of the North Georgian Islands, the desired effect of clearing the shores of ice.