As we approached this space we took in sail by
      degrees, and having at length got clear, lay-to under a single
      reefed foresail. January 2.—We had now tolerably pleasant weather. At noon we
      found ourselves in latitude 69 degrees 10’ S, longitude 42
      degrees 20’ W, having crossed the Antarctic circle. Very little
      ice was to be seen to the southward, although large fields of it
      lay behind us. This day we rigged some sounding gear, using a
      large iron pot capable of holding twenty gallons, and a line of
      two hundred fathoms. We found the current setting to the north,
      about a quarter of a mile per hour. The temperature of the air
      was now about thirty-three. Here we found the variation to be 14
      degrees 28’ easterly, per azimuth. January 5.—We had still held on to the southward without any very
      great impediments. On this morning, however, being in latitude 73
      degrees 15’ E., longitude 42 degrees 10’ W, we were again brought
      to a stand by an immense expanse of firm ice. We saw,
      nevertheless, much open water to the southward, and felt no doubt
      of being able to reach it eventually. Standing to the eastward
      along the edge of the floe, we at length came to a passage of
      about a mile in width, through which we warped our way by
      sundown. The sea in which we now were was thickly covered with
      ice islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as
      before. The cold did not seem to increase, although we had snow
      very frequently, and now and then hail squalls of great violence. Immense flocks of the albatross flew over the schooner this day,
      going from southeast to northwest. January 7.—The sea still remained pretty well open, so that we
      had no difficulty in holding on our course. To the westward we
      saw some icebergs of incredible size, and in the afternoon passed
      very near one whose summit could not have been less than four
      hundred fathoms from the surface of the ocean. Its girth was
      probably, at the base, three-quarters of a league, and several
      streams of water were running from crevices in its sides. We
      remained in sight of this island two days, and then only lost it
      in a fog. January 10.—Early this morning we had the misfortune to lose a
      man overboard. He was an American named Peter Vredenburgh, a
      native of New York, and was one of the most valuable hands on
      board the schooner. In going over the bows his foot slipped, and
      he fell between two cakes of ice, never rising again. At noon of
      this day we were in latitude 78 degrees 30’, longitude 40 degrees
      15’ W. The cold was now excessive, and we had hail squalls
      continually from the northward and eastward. In this direction
      also we saw several more immense icebergs, and the whole horizon
      to the eastward appeared to be blocked up with field ice, rising
      in tiers, one mass above the other. Some driftwood floated by
      during the evening, and a great quantity of birds flew over,
      among which were nellies, peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird
      of a brilliant blue plumage. The variation here, per azimuth, was
      less than it had been previously to our passing the Antarctic
      circle. January 12.—Our passage to the south again looked doubtful, as
      nothing was to be seen in the direction of the pole but one
      apparently limitless floe, backed by absolute mountains of ragged
      ice, one precipice of which arose frowningly above the other. We
      stood to the westward until the fourteenth, in the hope of
      finding an entrance. January 14.—This morning we reached the western extremity of the
      field which had impeded us, and, weathering it, came to an open
      sea, without a particle of ice. Upon sounding with two hundred
      fathoms, we here found a current setting southwardly at the rate
      of half a mile per hour. The temperature of the air was
      forty-seven, that of the water thirty-four. We now sailed to the
      southward without meeting any interruption of moment until the
      sixteenth, when, at noon, we were in latitude 81 degrees 21’,
      longitude 42 degrees W. We here again sounded, and found a
      current setting still southwardly, and at the rate of three
      quarters of a mile per hour. The variation per azimuth had
      diminished, and the temperature of the air was mild and pleasant,
      the thermometer being as high as fifty-one. At this period not a
      particle of ice was to be discovered. All hands on board now felt
      certain of attaining the pole. January 17.—This day was full of incident. Innumerable flights of
      birds flew over us from the southward, and several were shot from
      the deck, one of them, a species of pelican, proved to be
      excellent eating. About midday a small floe of ice was seen from
      the masthead off the larboard bow, and upon it there appeared to
      be some large animal. As the weather was good and nearly calm,
      Captain Guy ordered out two of the boats to see what it was. Dirk
      Peters and myself accompanied the mate in the larger boat. Upon
      coming up with the floe, we perceived that it was in the
      possession of a gigantic creature of the race of the Arctic bear,
      but far exceeding in size the largest of these animals. Being
      well armed, we made no scruple of attacking it at once. Several
      shots were fired in quick succession, the most of which took
      effect, apparently, in the head and body. Nothing discouraged,
      however, the monster threw himself from the ice, and swam with
      open jaws, to the boat in which were Peters and myself. Owing to
      the confusion which ensued among us at this unexpected turn of
      the adventure, no person was ready immediately with a second
      shot, and the bear had actually succeeded in getting half his
      vast bulk across our gunwale, and seizing one of the men by the
      small of his back, before any efficient means were taken to repel
      him. In this extremity nothing but the promptness and agility of
      Peters saved us from destruction. Leaping upon the back of the
      huge beast, he plunged the blade of a knife behind the neck,
      reaching the spinal marrow at a blow. The brute tumbled into the
      sea lifeless, and without a struggle, rolling over Peters as he
      fell. The latter soon recovered himself, and a rope being thrown
      him, he secured the carcass before entering the boat. We then
      returned in triumph to the schooner, towing our trophy behind us. This bear, upon admeasurement, proved to be full fifteen feet in
      his greatest length. His wool was perfectly white, and very
      coarse, curling tightly.