During these excursions several butterflies were caught and brought on board as specimens, as also some flies, gnats, and other _diptera_. Many hares were also shot, to the great delight of our doctor, who had been working like a horse in order to bring his patients round. The scenery in the channel between Bellot Island and the mainland, through which we passed in one of our vain attempts to get south, was very striking: bold cliffs, and hills rising to a height of two thousand feet on either side, intersected by deep ravines and gorges having almost precipitous sides and terminating in bays and little harbours. On Sunday the 20th, by dint of boring and charging, at the expense, however, of our rudder head, we succeeded in forcing a passage through the ice in Lady Franklin Bay, and into a broad stream of water extending along the coast to the southward, which we fondly hoped would eventually lead us into open water.[2] But navigation in ice-bound seas is indeed uncertain. For on the following day we were compelled to seek refuge inside a land-locked and apparently well-protected and secure harbour. How deceitful was its appearance! Hardly an hour had elapsed after entering this sheltered retreat, before the "Alert" was severely nipped by a heavy floe and forced on shore. For many hours the ship remained in a very critical position, as the tide receding left her completely high and dry, and listed over at an angle of 25°. So steep was the bank on which we had been forced, that at low water we were able to walk, "dry shod," from the stem to the main chains, whilst aft the water was over our mizzen chains, and within a short distance of the taff-rail. A good sensational photograph and some sketches were made of the ship in this unpleasant position. Strenuous efforts were, of course, at once made to lighten and float the vessel. The fore part was entirely cleared, and the chain cables brought aft. A bower anchor was laid out astern in order to haul the ship off to. The manner in which this latter work was performed was both novel and ingenious. A small but heavy piece of ice was secured and brought alongside the ship. On this was placed the anchor, as on a raft. It was then towed by boats to the position decided upon, when the raft was destroyed by exploding a charge of gunpowder immediately underneath it, the anchor, of course, sinking to the bottom. With such good will did all work, that we had the joy and satisfaction of seeing our good ship afloat, and ready to proceed, in about fifteen hours from the time of the accident taking place. The bay, which was the scene of our mishap, was called Rawlings Bay, after one of our men, who was my sledge captain in all my expeditions. A musk-ox skull and the horn of a reindeer were picked up by Feilden close to where the ship was aground, proving that the neighbourhood is occasionally visited by these animals.