I have always found the fears and anticipation of danger to exceed the reality. When the bore approached us, the bottom came rather faster than the top, and its face was not quite perpendicular. The vessel was fairly afloat on the foot of the wave, before the main body of it struck her; and taking it square astern, she split and rose over it in the most beautiful manner, without sustaining the slightest injury. By backing with the paddles, we kept clear of the shore, on which the impetus of the wave would have driven us, and soon after anchored again in the middle of the bay in twenty fathoms water. And here I would recommend to all navigators of the polar seas, to avoid anchoring in less than twenty fathoms, until they have accurately ascertained the rise and fall of the tides, at the full and change of the moon. When the companion-way was unbarred, Slim came up with my pea jacket, and coolly observed, he was glad there was no damage done, adding, "I was really afraid it might break our paddles." In consequence of this occurrence, I named this bay Take-in harbour. We were occupied until noon, in returning things to their places, getting the boats out, and preparing for an excursion on shore. At noon I observed the altitude of the sun, and, after making accurate allowance for the refraction, found Take-in harbour to be in latitude 83° 3' south. This was much further south than the distance run by log would make us, which I attributed to a strong current setting us rapidly in that direction; but this I soon found to be an error, and that the difference between the latitude by observation and dead reckoning, arose from the form of the globe at the poles, lessening the degrees of latitude.