VIEW FROM THE CLIFF. was likely to carry us from a direct line, I walked, while the dogs were resting, a few miles along the shore until I could see the head of the bay, distant not less than twenty miles. To make this long détour would occupy at least two if not three days,—an undertaking not justified by the state of our provisions,—and we therefore went into camp, weary with more than twelve hours' work, to await the issue of further observation on the morrow.
Surprised at the condition of the ice in the bay, I determined to climb the hill above the camp, with the view of ascertaining the probable cause of our being thus baffled; and to ascertain if a more direct route could not be found further to the eastward than that by the land-ice of the bay; for it was now clear that it was only possible to continue our journey northward in one or the other of these directions. The labors of the day made it necessary, however, that I should procure some rest before attempting to climb the hill to such an elevation as would enable me to obtain a clear view of the condition of the ice to the opposite shore.
After a most profound and refreshing sleep, inspired by a weariness which I had rarely before experienced, to an equal degree, I climbed the steep hill-side to the top of a ragged cliff, which I supposed to be about eight hundred feet above the level of the sea.
The view which I had from this elevation furnished a solution of the cause of my progress being arrested on the previous day.
The ice was everywhere in the same condition as in the mouth of the bay, across which I had endeavored to pass. A broad crack, starting from the middle of the bay, stretched over the sea, and uniting
