“By dint of much earnest exertion,” he writes, “and the use of bolts and spikes,—by replacing the torn cut-water, careful calking, and renewal of the iron plates,—it seemed probable that the schooner would be sea-worthy; but I was forced to agree with my sailing master, that to strike the ice again was sure to sink her.” Dr. Hayes awaited with some anxiety the breaking up of the ice, and the liberation of the schooner. Not until July 14, 1861, did the _United States_ glide out to sea under full sail, and by August 10 she was in latitude 74° 19´, longitude 66°. By the 12th they made land which proved to be Horse’s Head, and three days later found the schooner at anchor in Upernavik harbour. “While the chain was yet clinking in the hawse-hole,” writes Dr. Hayes, “an old Dane, dressed in seal-skins, and possessing a small stock of English and a large stock of articles to trade, pulled off to us with an Eskimo crew, and with little ceremony, clambered over the gangway. Knorr met him, and, without any ceremony at all, demanded the news. “‘Oh! dere’s plenty news!’ “‘Out with it, man! What is it?’ “‘Oh! de Sout States dey go agin de Nort’ States, and dere’s plenty fight!’ “I heard the answer, and wondering what strange complication of European politics had kindled another Continental war, called this Polar Emmæus to the quarter deck. Had he any news from America? “‘Oh! ’tis ’merica me speak! De Sout’ States, you see? and dere’s plenty fight!’ “Yes, I did see! but I did not believe that he told the truth, and awaited letters which I knew must have come out with the Danish vessel, and which were immediately sent for to the Government House.” The condition of the schooner necessitated putting in at Halifax for repairs, and, four days after leaving, they made the Boston Lights. “We picked up a pilot,” writes Dr. Hayes, “out of the thickest fog that I have ever seen south of the Arctic Circle, and with a light wind stood into harbor. As the night wore on the wind fell away almost to calm; the fog thickened more and more, if that were possible, as we sagged along over the dead waters toward the anchorage. The night was filled with an oppressive gloom. The lights hanging at the mast-heads of the vessels which we passed had the ghastly glimmer of tapers burning in a charnel-house. We saw no vessel moving but our own, and even those which lay at anchor seemed like phantom ships floating in the murky air. I never saw the ship’s company so lifeless, or so depressed, even in times of real danger.”