far as the eye could reach an interminable line of ice, but toward the
southwest the sea seemed open to navigation. The promontory was very
singular in shape, rising up to a peak which was at least a thousand
feet in height, and forming a striking object, easily discovered and
readily identified by any future explorer. We named it, after our
ship, Trevelyan Peak, and then felt anxious to lose sight of it
forever. But the calm continued, and at length we drifted in close
enough to see immense flocks of seals dotting the ice at the foot of
the peak.

Upon this I proposed to Agnew, the second mate, that we should go
ashore, shoot some seals, and bring them back. This was partly for the
excitement of the hunt, and partly for the honor of landing in a place
never before trodden by the foot of man. Captain Bennet made some
objections, but he was old and cautious, and we were young and
venturesome, so we laughed away his scruples and set forth. We did not
take any of the crew, owing to the captain's objections. He said that
if we chose to throw away our own lives he could not help it, but that
he would positively refuse to allow a single man to go with us. We
thought this refusal an excess of caution amounting to positive
cowardice, but were unable to change his mind. The distance was not
great, the adventure was attractive, and so the captain's gig was
lowered, and in this Agnew and I rowed ashore. We took with us a
double-barrelled rifle apiece, and also a pistol. Agnew took a glass.

We rowed for about three miles, and reached the edge of the ice, which
extended far out from the promontory. Here we landed, and secured the
boat by means of a small grappling-iron, which we thrust into the ice.
We then walked toward the promontory for about a mile, and here we
found a multitude of seals. These animals were so fearless that they