seaward. A sudden change in the air was felt. Cool, damp gusts swept
down from the crags. The thermometer was falling rapidly. It had stood
at ninety-four degrees just previous to the shower. Kit now reported
it at seventy-three degrees; and, in less than an hour, it had fallen
twenty degrees more. This sudden change was probably due to the
veering of the wind from east round to north. The cold blasts from
"Greenland's icy mountains" speedily dissipated our miniature summer.
There was a general rush for great-coats and thick jackets. Thin lines
of vapor streamed up from the water as the cold gusts swept across it.
The hot sunbeams falling on the sea had doubtless raised the
temperature considerably, despite the ice; and this sudden change in
the air could but raise a great mist. Yet I doubt whether Nature's
wonderful and legitimate processes were ever regarded with greater
disfavor and apprehension.

"The barometer's falling a good deal too," remarked the captain,
coming hastily up the companion-stairs. "Either a rain-storm, or a
smart gale from the north'ard: both, perhaps. We're in a tight place."

"What's to be done?" Raed asked.

"Hadn't we better try to beat out of the straits into the open sea
again, clear of the land and ice?" said Kit.

"Can't do it. It would take all night to do that, if there were no ice
to hinder. The gale will come before morning, if it comes at all; and
the entrance of the straits would be the worst possible place to
weather it."

"But, captain, what can we do?" Wade demanded, looking a little pale.

"Well, not much. We must keep on,--get as far up the straits as we
can; and then trust to good luck to escape being smashed or jammed.
The farther we get up the channel, the less we shall feel the violence
of a gale from the seaward."

It was a rather gloomy prospect. The sky was thickening, and darkening
rapidly. The mist kept streaming up from the water. What wind there
was continued fitfully. We kept the foresail and the jib set, and
jogged on, doubling amid the ice. Meanwhile the fog grew so dense,
that every thing was very dim at fifty yards. But for the mist, and
the danger of striking against large fragments of ice, we should have
set the mainsail and the topsail to make the most of our wind ere it
blew too hard; for it was plainly rising. Now and then a gust would
sigh past the sheets. Supper was eaten in squads of two and three. The
thermometer fell constantly. It grew so chi