esh laurel in the screw's wreath; and the gallant "Intrepid"
gave a _coup-de-grace_ to the mass, which sent it coach-wheeling
round, as it is termed; and the whole of the squadron taking the nip,
as Arctic ships should do, we were next morning in the true lead, and
our troubles in Melville Bay were at an end.

It was now the 10th of August. By heavens! I shall never forget the
light-heartedness of that day. Forty days had we been beset in the ice,
and one day of fair application of steam, powder, and men, and the
much-talked-of bay was mastered. There was, however, no time to be
lost. The air was calm, the water was smooth; the land-floe (for we had
again reached it) lay on the one hand--on the other the pack, from
whose grip we had just escaped, still threatened us. Penny had been out
of sight some time, and the "Felix" and "Prince Albert" were nearly ten
miles ahead!

Gentle Reader, I'll bore you no longer! We had calm water and
steam,--the ships in tow,--our progress rapid,--the "Albert" and
"Felix" were caught,--their news joyfully received,--and they taken in
tow likewise. The dates from England were a month later than our own:
all our friends were well,--all hopeful; and, putting those last dear
letters away, to be read and re-read during the coming winter, we
pushed on, and there was no time to be lost. Several nights before we
escaped from the pack the frost had been intense, and good sliding was
to be had on the pools formed by summer heat on the floes. The
bay-ice[2] was forming fast, and did not all melt during the day. The
birds had finished breeding; and, with the fresh millions that had been
added to their numbers, were feeding up preparatory to their departure
south. The sun was sweeping, _nightly_, nearer and nearer to the
northern horizon. Night once set in, we knew full well the winter would
come with giant strides. "Push on, good screw!" was on every one's lip;
and anxiety was seen on every brow, if by accident, or for any purpose,
the propeller ceased to move. "What's the matter? All right, I hope!"
Then a chuckle of satisfaction at being told that "nothing was amiss!"

[2] First winter ice, or young ice, is called bay-ice, from an
old Yorkshire word _bay_, to bend.--_Author._

[Headnote: _DETENTION OFF CAPE YORK._]

Time did not allow us, or I verily believe we might have killed tons of
birds between Cape Walker and Cape York, principally little auks (_Alca
alle_);--they actually bl