Having spread our sails to a favoring breeze, we gave three cheers and bore away for Cape Alexander, about fourteen miles distant. As we sped onward the scene was delightful. On our left was Hartstene Bay, with its dark, precipitous shore-line, and white glacier fields in the background. The outlines of Cape Alexander grew clearer over our bows, and cheered us onward. But a dark, threatening cloud crept up the northern sky, sending after us an increasing breeze, and tipping the waves with caps of snowy whiteness. The storm-king came on in frequent squalls, giving earnest of his wrath. We could not turn back, nor did such a course at all accord with our wishes; nor could we run toward the shore on the left, where only frowning rocks awaited us. We could only scud before the tempest toward Cape Alexander, come what would. The wind roared louder and the waves rolled higher, yet on we flew. We came within half a mile of the cape unharmed. Now the current, as it swept swiftly round the cape, produced a "chopping sea." The "Hope," being made for a heavy sea, rounded the point in good style. The "Ironsides" was shorter, stood more out of the water, and was, therefore, less manageable. John, who was intrusted with the steering-oar, in minding the business of Bonsall and Godfrey instead of his own, let it fly out of the water, and so permitted the boat to come round broadside to the current. Of course the sea broke over us at its pleasure, filling every part which could be filled and sinking us deep in the water. But for its metallic structure and air-tight apartment we should have sunk; as it was we held fast to the sides and mast to prevent being washed overboard, and thus we drifted ingloriously round the cape. Here we found our consort, ready to come to our assistance; but as the water was smooth under sheltering land, we bailed out our boat, took in our sails, unshipped the mast, and rowed for a small rock called Sutherland's Island, hoping to find a harbor. But we found none, nor was it safe to land anywhere upon the island. There was nothing to do but to pull back again in the face of the wind. The men were weary and disheartened; the sun had set and it was growing dark; our clothes were frozen and unyielding as a coat of mail; cutting sleet pelted our faces, and we were often compelled to lose for a moment part of what we had with such toil gained. But the sheltering main-land of the cape was at last gained, and we coasted slowly along for some distance looking for a haven. We finally came to a low rocky point, behind which lay a snug little harbor. "A harbor! here we are boys; a harbor!" shouted the lookout. The men responded with a faint cheer--they were too much exhausted for "a rouser."