the boat, and by a united effort managed to drag it out to the edge of the shore-ice, but the tide being low there was no water to float it. We therefore had to await the flood-tide, which would not be up till about noon. Meanwhile the boat was loaded where it rested upon the sand, and at twelve o'clock, being lifted by the water, a canvas was hoisted, and through a dense fog which rose from the river we sailed up the shore to find a narrow part of the stream and avoid the broad shoals which extended out from the opposite shore.
Having proceeded some three miles up, to the vicinity of Flamboro' Head, a bold headland, our course was altered and we steered into the fog for the south shore—about two miles distant. The wind was piercingly cold, instantly freezing every splash as it fell, and still blowing fresh, so that our ice-laden craft sped swiftly away on her course. Some floating ice was met, but successfully passed, and for a time it seemed as if the crossing would soon be effected; but suddenly there loomed out of the mist right ahead a dense field of ice, broken and rafted and hurrying down with the current. By putting the helm hard to starboard, and quickly dropping our canvas, we managed to keep clear of the mass; but what was now to be done?
The south shore was still hidden by dense volumes of vapor, and nothing could be seen in that direction but the adjacent fields of ice. On the north shore the dark outline of Flamboro' Head could still be discerned, and it was resolved thence to beat our retreat. We were, however, unable to sail against the wind, but taking to the oars we managed, after a prolonged and difficult struggle, to regain the place whence we had started.
