Again I quote from my journal: “A wild morning with snow driving in horizontal sheets across the deck, the water like ink, the ice ghastly white, and the land invisible except close to us as we almost scrape against it on the port side. Summer is at an end and winter has commenced.” Scarcely had we made fast to the ice-foot when the ice filled the bay completely. With the ebb-tide at night much of the ice inside of us passed out, grazing against our side, but no lead formed at the Cape and no opportunity occurred to get north. With the turn of the flood, the ice came in again with a rush, and the corner of a large floe caught the stern, bent the back of the rudder over to the other side and forced the ship bodily ashore. Here she hung until high-water, with a heavy berg-piece pressing against her stern and threatening momentarily to press her up the shore beyond possibility of floating again. Almost unmanageable with her twisted rudder, it was a slow and difficult job to work her through the running ice farther up the bay to a supposedly less-exposed berth, snowing and blowing all this time. Here the back of the rudder was straightened somewhat. Early in the morning of the 3d, a moving floe forced the _Roosevelt_ ashore again, where she hung until the next high-water, and she was hardly pulled off when another floe jammed her hard and fast aground again. I was very anxious to get out of this dangerous and trying position, where the rapid and vicious movements of the ice were a constant menace, but a reconnoissance from an elevation near the _Roosevelt_ indicated that the channel north of us was simply solid with ice. Shortly after midnight of the 3d, the _Roosevelt_ floated again and, a southerly breeze forming a little water at the mouth of the bay, we steamed out at 3:30 A. M. and succeeded in getting under the delta of Shelter River just south of Cape Union, and in butting into a natural dock among some stranded berg-pieces. Here the ship had one foot of water under her keel and as we moored her, the slack ice through which we had come jammed tight with floes packing against the barrier at Cape Union. Here we enjoyed a fine day with the temperature in the low twenties and experienced a few hours of peace. The river delta to the north and stranded berg-pieces to the south protected us from the attacks of the heavy floes passing rapidly a few yards outside of us. Eskimos sent out for hare here obtained thirty-six. We were now only some fifteen miles from the _Alert’s_ winter quarters, and a clear run of two or three hours would enable us to beat the record for ships in this region, and save the game for us.