At one in the morning she became completely waterlogged. She then fell over on her beam-ends, when the crew, giving themselves up for lost, clung to the nearest object for immediate safety. By judiciously cutting away the main and fore masts, they happily enabled the ship to right herself, when being drifted into a stream of ice, she was no longer in danger of immediate sinking. The whole hull, however, was inundated and indeed immersed in water, except a portion of the quarter-deck, upon which the whole crew were now assembled. Here they threw up an awning of sails to shelter themselves from the cold, which had become so intense as to threaten the extinction of life. Those endowed with spirit and sense kept up the vital power by brisk movement; but the natives of Shetland, who are accused on such occasions of sinking into a selfish despondency, piled themselves together in a heap, with the view of deriving warmth from each other’s bodies. Those in the interior of the mass obtained thus a considerable temperature, though accompanied with severe pressure; and blows were given, and even knives drawn to gain and to preserve this advantageous position. On the 19th, one Shetlander died of cold, another on the 20th, and a third on the 21st,—events felt by the others as peculiarly gloomy, chiefly, it is owned, as forming a presage of their own impending fate. On the 22d the sun began to appear amid showers of snow; and the 23d was ushered in by fine weather and a clear sky. The opinions of the crew were now divided as to what course they should steer in search of deliverance. Two plans were suggested. They could either stretch northward into the fishing stations, where they might expect, sooner or later, to meet some of their countrymen, by whom they would be received on board; or they might sail southward towards Iceland, and throw themselves on the hospitality of its inhabitants. The former plan was in several respects the more promising, especially as a vessel had been in sight when the storm arose. But its uncertainties were also very great. They might traverse for weeks those vast icy seas, amid cold always increasing, and with imminent danger of being swallowed up by the waves. Iceland was distant, but it was a definite point; and upon this course they at last wisely determined. Several days were spent in fitting out their two remaining boats, all the others having been swept away—and in fishing up from the interior of the vessel every article which could be turned to account. During this operation, the weather continuing fine, they could not forbear admiring the scene by which they were surrounded. The sea was formed as it were into a beautiful little frith, by the ice rising around in the most varied and fantastic forms, sometimes even assuming the appearance of cities adorned with towers and forests of columns. Continual efforts were necessary, meantime, to keep the wreck on the icy