"

The brig instantly obeyed; her prow was directed towards the point
indicated; the sea foamed under the screws, and the _Forward_, with
all speed on, entered between two ice-streams. The road was found,
Hatteras descended upon deck, and the ice-master took his place.

"Well, captain," said the doctor, "we are in the famous strait at
last."

"Yes," answered Hatteras, lowering his voice; "but getting in isn't
everything; we must get out too," and so saying he regained his cabin.

"He's right," said the doctor; "we are here in a sort of mousetrap,
with scarcely enough space for working the brig, and if we are forced
to winter in the strait!... Well, we shan't be the first that have
had to do it, and they got over it, and so shall we."

The doctor was not mistaken. It was in that very place, in a little
sheltered harbour called Kennedy Harbour by McClintock himself, that
the _Fox_ wintered in 1858. The high granite chain and the steep cliffs
of the two banks were clearly discernible.

Bellot Strait is seventeen miles long and a mile wide, and about six
or seven fathoms deep. It lies between mountains whose height is
estimated at 1,600 feet. It separates North Somerset from Boothia
Land.

It is easy to understand that there is not much elbow-room for vessels
in such a strait. The _Forward_ advanced slowly, but it did advance;
tempests are frequent in the strait, and the brig did not escape them;
by Hatteras's order all sails were furled; but, notwithstanding all
precautions, the brig was much knocked about; the waves dashed over
her, and her smoke fled towards the east with astonishing rapidity;
her course was not certain amongst the moving ice; the barometer fell;
it was difficult to stop on deck, and most of the men stayed below
to avoid useless suffering.

Hatteras, Johnson, and Shandon remained on the poop in spite of the
gales of snow and rain; as usual the doctor had asked himself what
would be the most disagreeable thing he could do, and answered himself
by going on deck at once; it was impossible to hear and difficult
to see one another, so that he kept his reflections to himself.
Hatteras tried to see through the fog; he calculated that they would
be at the mouth of the strait at six o'clock, but when the time came
all issue seemed closed up; he was obliged to wait and anchor the
brig to an iceberg; but he stopped under pressure all night.

The weather was frightful. The _Forward_ threatened to break he