A splendid erratic block of red granite, twelve or fifteen feet high, lay in the south side of the valley, and round it a complete trench was worn deep into the ground by the foot prints of musk oxen as they rubbed themselves against it or stood under it for shelter. This glen was even more fertile than Port Foulke, and would make a delightful winter quarters for an amateur Arctic Expedition. There was plenty of willow, with large well-grown leaves, and in many places the ground was covered with a perfect garden of dwarf flowers; even in the dry parts of the river bed, patches of purple Epilobium covered the sand. We could only account for the absence of game by supposing that the neighbouring valleys were equally rich. An old reindeer antler was picked up, together with the skull of a bear, and at the upper end of the valley some remains of Eskimo “igloos” were discovered, with door posts made of whale ribs. Our furthest point in Hayes’ Sound was reached two days afterwards, and, so far as we could see, the peninsula on our right was not an island. We subsequently saw that it, and the very similar headland next north of it, were parts of the same land, only separated by a curve in the coast with a low hill in the centre. We accordingly ceased to speak of our headlands as Henry and Bache Islands, and returned to their original titles, Capes Albert and Victoria. At length the long check at Hayes’ Sound came to an end. Some southward motion in the ice opened a lead round Cape Albert. It was at once taken advantage of, and when it closed in again the ships were well to the north of the Cape, but, unfortunately, completely imprisoned in close pack drifting steadily southwards, and taking them with it. There was no fixed point to lay hold on. The long wall of horizontally banded cliffs was more than a mile off, and, even if we could have reached it, there did not appear to be any little curve or hollow where we could have held our own. What little we had won seemed slipping from us. There was nothing to be done but wait patiently for the chances of the next tide. “Tea” had been cleared away in the wardroom, and logs were being written up and journals posted, when we were startled by sudden orders on deck. “Full speed ahead!” “Clear away jib!” “Set fore-top sail, top-gallant sail, and foresail!” We rushed on deck, expecting that a fine lead had opened northwards, but, lo! the ships were still fast in the pack, and drifting right down upon an iceberg two hundred yards long and forty feet above water that crushed through the floes towards us. The “Alert” was directly in its path. Men out on the ice ahead and astern tried to make way, and hauled with ice anchors and tackle; full steam and sail failed to move her. The pack tightened every moment with increasing pressure. The roar of the crushing ice came nearer and nearer. And as the orders “Up screw and up rudders” were given, those of us who were useless on