not be easy to imagine a more dreary scene than that in which
Deacon Pratt's schooner moved out into the waters that separated the
different islands of this remote and sterile group. Roswell could just
discern the frowning mass of the rocks that crowned the centre of Sealer's
Land; and that was soon lost in the increasing obscurity. The cold was
getting to be severe, and the men soon complained that ice was forming on
the blades of their oars. Then it was that a thought occurred to our young
mariner, which had hitherto escaped him. Of what use would it be for his
vessel to be beyond the ice, if that of Daggett should be shut in the
succeeding day? So sensible did he become to the importance of this idea,
that he called in his boat, and pulled back into the cove, in order to
make one more effort to persuade Daggett to follow him out.

Gardiner found all of the Vineyarders turned in, even to their officers.
The fatigue they had lately undergone, united to the cold, rendered the
berths very agreeable; and even Daggett begged his visiter would excuse
him for not rising to receive his guest. Argument with a man thus
circumstanced and so disposed, was absolutely useless. After remaining a
short time with Daggett, Roswell returned to his own schooner. As he
pulled back, he ascertained that ice was fast making; and the boat
actually cut its way through a thin skim, ere it reached the vessel.

Our hero was now greatly concerned lest he should be frozen in himself,
ere he could get into the more open water of the bay. Fortunately a light
air sprung up from the northward, and trimming his sails, Gardiner
succeeded in carrying his craft to a point where the undulations of the
ground-swell gave the assurance of her being outside the segment of the
crescent. Then he brailed his foresail, hauled the jib-sheet over, lowered
his gaff, and put his helm hard down. After this, all the men were
permitted to seek their berths; the officers looking out for the craft in
turns.

It wanted about an hour of day, when the second mate gave Roswell a call,
according to orders. The young master found no wind, but an intensely cold
morning, on going on deck. Ice had formed on every part of the rigging and
sides of the schooner where water had touched them; though the stillness
of the night, by preventing the spray from flying, was much in favour of
the navigators in this respect. On thrusting a boat-hook down, Roswell
ascertained that the bay around