The weather for the remainder of the day was very thick and foggy, insomuch that we could hardly see two ships length ahead. In the afternoon I walked around and over the nip in our way north of us; and, to my vexation, found it would not be likely to open soon; or, if it did, it was rather too dangerous a passage to attempt forcing the vessel through. Accordingly, in a clearer interval, when the fog lifted for a few moments, I went aloft to the “nest,” and with the second mate carefully examined the neighbourhood around. To the westward of us we fancied we could perceive a lead, which would take us by a circuitous route towards Captain Austin's ships; but the fog again settled down, and we could not positively determine. I descended to the deck, and felt nervously anxious. If we could not extricate ourselves this day in time to reach the other vessels, we should undoubtedly lose the probability of their giving us a tow. Knowing the men were fatigued, I asked Captain Forsyth to let me have the dingey, and take it away to examine the ice. He at once consented, though, as he said, with some doubt concerning the heavy fog, which might cause us to miss our way back. However, off I went, accompanied only by John Smith, the steward, who was an excellent boatman. We both pulled hard towards the direction in which I thought a lead would be found.