At length we were once more completely "beset." The young ice was making rapidly, and I was forced reluctantly to admit that the navigable season was over. To stay longer in the pack was now to insure of being frozen up there for the winter, and accordingly, after having exhausted two more days of fruitless labor, we made what haste we could to get back again into clear water. This was not, however, an affair to be quickly accomplished. He who navigates these polar seas must learn patience. [Sidenote: RETREAT FROM THE PACK.] Our purpose was, however, in the end safely accomplished, and, a breeze springing up, we put back into Hartstene Bay; and, steering for a cluster of ragged-looking islands which lay near the coast at its head, we came upon a snug little harbor behind them, and dropped our anchors. Next morning I had the schooner hauled further in-shore, and moored her to the rocks. Meanwhile the crew were working with anxious uncertainty; and when I finally announced my intention to winter in that place they received the intelligence with evident satisfaction. Their exposure had been great, and they needed rest; but, notwithstanding this, had there been the least prospect of serviceable result following any further attempt to cross the Sound, they would, with their customary energy and cheerfulness, have rejoiced in continuing the struggle. But they saw, as their faces clearly told, even before I was willing to own it, that the season was over. I record it to their credit, that throughout a voyage of unusual peril and exposure they had never quailed in the presence of danger, and they had to a man exhibited the most satisfactory evidence of manly endurance. [Sidenote: ENTERING WINTER HARBOR.] The reader will readily understand that to me the failure to cross the Sound was a serious disappointment. Hoping, as heretofore stated, to reach the west coast, and there secure a harbor in some convenient place between latitude 79° and 80°, it was evident to me that in failing to do this my chances of success with sledges during the following spring were greatly jeopardized. Besides--and this to me was the most painful reflection--my vessel was, apparently, so badly injured as to be unfit for any renewal of the attempt the next year. [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII. OUR WINTER HARBOR.--PREPARING FOR WINTER.--ORGANIZATION OF DUTIES.--SCIENTIFIC WORK.--THE OBSERVATORY.--SCHOONER DRIVEN ASHORE.--THE HUNTERS.--SAWING A DOCK.--FROZEN UP. I named our harbor Port Foulke, in honor of my friend, the late William Parker Foulke, of Philadelphia, who was one of the earliest, and continued to be throughout one of the most constant advocates of the expedition.