I will not bore the reader with some days of hard labour, in which we cut to the southward into the ice, whilst the water was trying hard to get to us from the north; it eventually caught us, and (Saturday, August 8th,) we were all afloat in open water, with a barrier of ice _still southward towards Barrow's Strait_. The "Intrepid" had been sent early in the week to look round the north end of Griffith's Island, and reported a narrow neck of ice from the N.W. bluffs towards Somerville Island. Eastward, and not westward, was, however, to be our course, and we therefore remained where we were. On the 9th and 10th, a general disruption of the little remaining ice took place: we made gentle and very cautious moves towards Barrow's Strait; and, at last, on August 11th, the ice, as if heartily tired of us, shot us out into Barrow's Strait, by turning itself fairly round on a pivot. We were at sea because we could not help it, and the navigable season was proclaimed to have commenced. [Headnote: _STEAMING FOR ASSISTANCE HARBOUR._] Taking, like another Sinbad, our "Resolute" old burden behind us, the "Pioneer" steamed away for Assistance Harbour, from whence, as we had been given to understand some days previously, Jones's Sound was to be our destination; a plan to which I the more gladly submitted, as I felt confident, from all I had heard and seen of its geography or of that of the neighbouring land, that it would be found to connect itself with Penny's North Water: once in it we felt failure of our object to be impossible; we had still three years' provisions, and nearly four years of many things. One man had died, perhaps half-a-dozen more were invalids, but the rest were strong and hearty: to be sure, we all lacked much of that sanguineness which had animated us hitherto. Repeated disappointment, long journeys in the wrong direction (as it had proved), over regions which had, of course, shown no trace of those we had hoped to rescue--had all combined to damp our feelings.