Chapter VII

POST NUBILA PHŒBUS. ABANDONMENT OF THE FLOE AND BOAT
JOURNEY TO THE ISLAND OF ILLUIDLEK. FEB. TO JUNE 4,
1870.[16]

A Fox near the Hansa-house.--Rapid drift of our floe.--Open
water westwards.--Changed aspect of the coast.--A family of
seals.--Numerous glaciers on the coast.--Threatened danger from
an iceberg.--In the latitude of Nukarbik.--Linnets.--Carpenter
attacked by scurvy.--Keeping Easter Festival.--Considerable
advance of our floe in its southward drift.--Attractive
aspect of the coast.--The Puisortok glacier.--Walruses.--Bird
life.--Open water in the direction of land.--Determination
to quit the floe and take to the boats.--Preparations
therefor.--Departure.--Storm from the north.--Huge appetites
and scanty rations.--Excessive heat.--A fly.--Dragging
the boats towards the coast.--Excursion to the island
of Illuidlek.--Difficulty in dragging the boats over
the ice.--Anniversary of our departure from Bremen
harbour.--Prospects for the future.--Great exertions to
escape.--Landing on the island of Illuidlek on 4th June.

On the 1st of February we caught a glimpse of some seals, the first we had seen for a long time; also a raven, and some various kinds of sea-gulls. The former came from the land, the latter from the sea. One morning, too, a fox appeared before our house. He stayed many days, and became so bold at last, that he would fetch the meat which had been thrown from the galley, and allow himself to be stroked. The creature caused us much fun. It never entered our heads to capture him.

At four p.m. we passed Cape Dan, but the coast was too far distant for us to discern its outline distinctly.

For the next few days we drifted at the speed of one nautical mile an hour, passing numerous huge icebergs, some more than 100 feet high, without receiving any injury to our floe. Before such a mountain the currents of course divided, the water rushing on either side. With this current our floe regularly went from twenty to twenty-five paces either to the right or left of the monster, and thus happily passed it. Bade and Hildebrandt made an attempt to climb one of these icebergs, but under ever increasing difficulties only succeeded in getting half way up. “Then the smooth, white walls rose so steep, that we might just as well have tried to climb the bare outer wall of a church tower.” Fragments of the mighty glaciers of Greenland forced out to sea “calves” of the same, these icebergs resemble huge basaltic rocks in all shades of white and blue.

On the 6th of February, according to our reckoning, we ought to be near Dan Island. As, however, we could not see it, we naturally concluded that it had no existence, and that the marking of it on Graah’s chart must rest upon the fact that, icebergs being so numerous here, they must have mistaken one for an island.

February passed quietly; the weather throughout was fine. Floating ice and icebergs, which were more numerous than ever, left our floe undiminished; we supplemented many of our arrangements, and above all gained more confidence in our future. With regard to our possessions and effects, we have become very indifferent. The most costly books are torn up for the most trifling purposes. The gilded frame of our cabin looking-glass has long since been used as firewood, and the glass thrown on one side. Streams of petroleum and brandy flow in the course of heating the stove; packets of tobacco furnish a welcome means of warmth. Why is gunpowder of no use to us? We like letting it off in fireworks for our pleasure, and to pass away the time! Only one event, which happened about the beginning of March, grieved us sadly; our Dr. Buchholz, who until now had shown himself courageous and resolute in all moments of danger, became melancholy, and a nervous disorder developed itself, which he never lost until he returned home. Of course we did all we could for him; but our position on the floe, and later in the boats, without medical advice, was of that kind that we were unable to follow up any means of cure whatever.

Middle of February, in 64° 40′ N.L., and about twenty nautical miles from land, we saw, in a westerly direction, and running parallel with the coast for about eight nautical miles, a strip of open water. It was evidently of considerable breadth, and seemed to reach nearly to the land, for with a westerly wind came up a strong swell. With an east wind, on the contrary, it remained calm; and we might therefore conclude that towards the east the ice lay densely packed. The coast landscape has become less wild; it looks as though people might be living there. The sun, which now stands seventeen degrees high on the meridian, begins to have some power. It begins to feel quite like summer. Off with the furs, and the cramped up sleeves! the men now go about with bare throats and chests.

Beautiful northern lights brighten the night. Like the leaves of a fan or a flower, the sheaves of light unroll themselves over the heavens. Its pole seems to lie exactly over our house.

March brought abundant snow, and gave us but few cheerful days. Once we drifted within a short distance of a small iceberg about sixty feet high, on the top plateau of which we could see a seal family. The wife had evidently in this retirement made her lying-in bed; At four p.m. on the distant horizon, owing to the glistening ice-blink, the “Kolberger-Heide” glacier became visible twenty-five nautical miles from us. On approaching it we could see from there, as far down as Cape Moesting, one uninterrupted row of glaciers, which seemed to reach down to the sea. The intervening towering rocks were about 3000 feet high. In the neighbourhood were countless icebergs, some of which were fast to the ground. We passed through the middle of them; and on the 19th, drifting swiftly along within six nautical miles from land, we nearly ran on to one. When, however, we were within twenty-five paces from the monster, the ice-current stopped, and for three hours we lay completely still. Then the ice loosened once more, and the journey began quicker than before. A collision, perhaps the total destruction of our floe, seemed imminent; for twenty minutes we were in the greatest danger, and looked on at the grand spectacle with breathless attention. The nearest part of the berg was a firm, connected mass. Farther on its build, under the combined influence of sun and water, had been worn into magnificent cliffs and gateways. On the south side was an aperture which seemed broad and high enough to hold a ship as large as the Hansa. As we came nearer the mass, we suddenly saw directly above us numerous points and jagged spikes; one projecting angle indeed we could grasp. “We are lost!” such was the thought of each of us. But--wonderful! our floe was unshaken; it did not even graze it. Small pieces of floating ice which surrounded it served both as “fender” and protector to our raft from this fatal collision. The berg once behind us, we drifted for some time in open water, which had collected itself here as in the wake of a ship.

On the 18th of March, in latitude 64° 2′, we took our longitude. By the chronometer it was 40° 44′ W. According to the Coast Survey, however, it was 40° O′ W. So that the land on Graah’s chart is carried 44′ too far to the east.

On the 29th of March, to our great joy, we found ourselves in the latitude of Nukarbik. Was it on this island that Graah wintered from the 3rd of September, 1829, to the 5th of April, 1830; and where his troublesome and dangerous boat journey to the north was broken off? We had long nourished the hope of starting from here on a boat voyage to Friedrichsthal, the most southerly settlement on the western coast, though the ice lay so thick that two sailors asked permission to go on land. Fortunately the captain refused his consent; for a few hours later a change set in, which would have rendered it fearfully difficult for the men to have reached us again. On the evening of the 29th of March we thought we saw a fire on shore, and conjectured that it came from an Esquimaux settlement. We therefore sent up some rockets, and the next day hoisted our flag; but eventually we saw nothing but some snow-buntings and ravens. The latter came regularly every morning from the land to the sea, and returned at sunset. In the Bight of Nukarbik we had an unwilling stay of four weeks. We found ourselves two to three nautical miles from land. Whilst farther out the ice drifted southward without interruption, our floe tacked now to the south, now to the north. This was caused by the course of the current which ran close under the coast. The wind did not affect it, for we sometimes drove right against it. The coast is here deeply indented by three important Fjords. At the flood these land openings exert great strength of attraction, and our floe neared them. The ebb drew us back again; the next tide renewed the forward motion, and thus for weeks together we were the sport of the currents. At this time the spring flood of the 3rd of April passed over without any remarkable effect. The 12th being a bright day, the opportunity presented itself of observing the ebb and tide. We lay near an iceberg, which measured 120 feet high, was estimated at 180 in breadth and 200 in length. From ten a.m. until four p.m. the current set us slowly towards an iceberg surrounded by a strip of water, sometimes so near that we tried to push ourselves from it by poles. During this time we observed that the flood had risen two feet to the easily discernible high-water mark on the berg. At four p.m. the water again began to sink, and we floated back. We could hear the hissing and thundering of the ice floes falling after the ebb headlong from the banks. Small flights of linnets and snow-buntings visited us. We threw them some oat-groats, which they greedily devoured; at the same time being so tame, that we could catch them with the hand. In the middle of April a slight attack of scurvy attacked one of our men, the carpenter, whose leg was much swollen. We applied some simple remedies, made him take plenty of exercise, and he was soon restored.

The Easter Festival fell at the time we lay floating backwards and forwards in the Bay of Nukarbik. We spent it cheerfully, in health, and full of hope of eventual preservation out of all danger and want; to us it was indeed a real Resurrection Festival. Had we not often had death before our eyes in its most threatening form? Nature, too, began to show signs of approaching spring; the air was considerably milder, the lowest temperature in the night 23° Fahr.; in the sunshine, which we often enjoyed while stretched upon the sails of the boats, the thermometer rose to 54½° Fahr. On the first festival day (17th of April) we had a good meal, preserved meat made into soup, ham, kidney beans, peas, and a bottle of sherry, which we had carefully kept until this day. On the second, we were to be released from our unwelcome position between the steep reddish-brown retreating cliffs of Cape Moltke and the low island of Nukarbik. A storm from the north gave to the motion of our floe a seaward direction, and we once more floated southward. The next three weeks brought us a long way forward, for this part of our voyage began on the 18th in 63° 30′ N.L., and on the 6th of May we found ourselves in 61° 4′, almost in the latitude of Bergen. During this stage, as speedy as it was free from danger, the evolutions of the ice-floes afforded us much interest, and our spirits rose immensely. The coast, with its many branching mountain chains, which on the southern side were mostly free from snow, its Fjords, creeks, islands, and capes formed a highly pleasing prospect. Grand was the appearance of the “Puisortok” glacier, a mighty ice-field extending thirty nautical miles along the coast, from which protruded the yellowish rocky masses of Cape Steen Bille. On the 25th, we saw a seal, lying on a floe, whilst from the land a bear with stealthy steps was nearing it; but the seal soon detected the threatened danger, and quickly disappeared. Linnets and snow-buntings are no longer rare. Fearless and confiding, these small birds seem to like the approach of men. “Some of them,” so says Bade’s day-book, “will almost perch upon our noses, and in five minutes allowed themselves to be caught three times.”

Still no open water! During the first days of May it rained heavily; the snow melting, the path to our house became a ruin; its roof leaked like a sieve, and the house itself, which formerly stood in a valley, was now upon a hill! We were obliged to prop it up. From the continued thaw a heap of things came to light which we thought were lost. Among them was the carpenter’s chest.

Even on the 6th of May we had no idea that we should be able to leave our floe on the following day, much less meet with all sorts of provisions, which would be useful to our frail settlement destined to destruction. After the continued rain of the last few days, we broke up the remainder of the snow-path round the house entirely, and tried to give additional firmness to our falling dwelling with the laths and supports which were thereby set at liberty. These we drove into the floe on the outer side of the house, and bound together high above it with ropes, so that it was thoroughly laced in. Between these supports and the house wall we stuffed sail-cloth to keep out the draught and rain. The galley, which was fastened to the flagstaff, had lost its bottom through the thaw, and slanted sideways in the air. We loosened it from this aimless connexion and stood it once more on the snow.

On the morning of the 7th we were agreeably surprised to see open water in the direction of land. A stiff south-easter had cleared the sky during the night, and in the grey morning the watch heard through the fog a rushing and roaring sound, which could be nothing but the sea. The thought had now to be seriously entertained as to whether the time had not come for our release from the floe. And it had come. Wind and weather remained favourable. The strip of water in the south-west came nearer and nearer, the wind separating masses of small floes and driving them northwards. At half-past twelve the captain, after having uninterruptedly observed the ice and the weather for some time, decided, with the agreement of all the officers, that according to his opinion, the moment had come when they should leave the floe and try to save themselves by reaching the coast in the boats. But he did not wish to bear the entire responsibility of such an important step, believing that if the abandonment of the floe and the taking to the boats were decided upon with unanimous consent, or at least with that of the majority of his comrades, their prospect of ultimate preservation would be greatly enhanced by increased individual exertions. How well founded this opinion was, time would prove. It was also found that this day’s observations gave a latitude of 61° 12′; more northerly than that of yesterday, as on the 6th we were in 61° 4′. This view of the captain’s therefore received unlimited approbation, Dr. Laube only showing some hesitation, which was overruled. Our decision stood firm. After a hasty mid-day meal we at once began to clear the boats. This was troublesome work. First we took out all the provisions, clothing, sails, masts, oars, instruments, and so forth, so that the boats might be hauled empty over three floes; and the whole of the contents were carried after them, partly on sledges and partly on the back, and they were again reladen. In feverish haste and impatience this work was accomplished, and in three hours all was ready. We took one last thankful look at our faithful floe; through numerous dangers and calamities, from the region of terror and death, it had borne us here in 200 days, into a more hospitable latitude; and now filled with fresh courage we might hope for a speedy release.

It was about four p.m. as with three hearty cheers we set sail. The community were divided amongst the boats in the following manner:--The whale-boat, which was commanded by Captain Hegemann, took the two scientific men, the cook, and the sailors Philipp Heine and Bernhard Gätjen. The boat Bismarck was commanded by the first officer, Hildebrandt; under him were the two sailors Paul Tilly and Heinrich Büttner. The large boat King William was commanded by the second officer, Bade; and the carpenter, Wilhelm Böwe, Fritz Kewell, Max Schmidt, and Conrad Gierke constituted the crew. We sailed until nine p.m., at first slowly, but after we had stowed away better, more rapidly; so that upon hauling the boat up on a floe, we had left seven nautical miles behind us. This hauling up was a hard bit of work. After finding a low spot and first emptying the boat, we lifted it on to the floe by swinging it backwards and forwards, and then when it came up the third time, with a strong pull at the painter a part was raised on to the ice, and afterwards the whole was hauled up. The provisions and other equipments of each boat were stacked up close by, and covered over with the oilskin. The missing sail-roof of the boat King William had to be replaced by the insufficient protection afforded by the boat-sail. Some hours sped by at this work. The evening meal consisted of hard bread and coffee, which the men prepared in the boats by means of the spirit-lamp. At length, at half-past twelve, we laid down on our furs to sleep; and at half-past five the next morning, we got up again. Sailing in a westerly direction brought us to within four nautical miles from the land. At twelve at noon, however, the ice was so dense that we were obliged to pull up at a floe. On this piece of ice, drifting slowly southward, we rested in our boats until five p.m. The sun’s warm rays did us good, but they also produced that painful evil, snow-blindness. Besides which, from the constant looking-out against the wind for the chance of seeing the entrance to a channel, the eyes were so affected that they could not bear the blinding white of the light upon the glistening ice-fields. First a great weariness is felt, and then a burning in the eye, which soon mounts to unbearable pain. The eye waters violently, and the head is affected. There is then little else to do but to wait patiently, and fasten a cloth over the eyes to keep out every ray of light. After one and a half to two days the suffering is over, but one must be careful of a relapse. This sickness shows itself in many different forms. Some people suffer often and most violently from it, others only find their eyes slightly affected. Later, we tried to guard ourselves by making the green shading-glasses of the telescope into snow-spectacles. By this sensible improvised help, and others which we found, we were able to provide each with this, for an Arctic voyage, most necessary article. Our sailing journey, which at first was through dense ice, had brought us by the evening one and a half nautical miles nearer, when suddenly there fell a calm, and the floes before us had packed themselves into an impenetrable mass. The above-described work of hauling up the boats exhausted our strength again considerably; and after enjoying some coffee and bread, we fell into a deep sleep, dead tired. Bad weather, fall of snow and storm, kept us fixed six days more to the floe. The temperature changed from 36½° Fahr. by day, to 21° Fahr. by night.

Yesterday, the 10th of May, in the afternoon, we played our usual game at whist in the whale-boat. Our boat-sail (that belonging to the King William), which serves as a roof during the night, from its lightness and transparency keeps but little of the wet off; the rain has dropped gently upon us for now nearly twenty-four hours, as from the rose of a watering-pot. The other boats are better off in this respect, as they have oil-cloth sail coverings. The day ended, Mr. Hildebrandt and his people came to us in the large boat, for company and also for any alcohol and provisions that we could spare, with which we were better provided. There were therefore eight men to feed in the large boat. In the morning we boiled a kettle of coffee, and ate a piece of dry bread with it. The mid-day meal consisted of a portion of soup, and the meat boiled in it. In the evening a drink of cocoa refreshed us, of course without either milk or sugar. We had to be economical with our provisions; for if we had to lie quiet much longer, hunger would knock sharper at the door. Our appetite is extraordinary, but easily accounted for, as the diet of fresh meat and fat, which is indispensable to this climate, had to be sparingly weighed out in scales which we manufactured for the occasion. The store of bacon is reckoned at 6 lbs. per head; besides which, there are two hams.

At last, on the 14th, the bad weather broke up, the ice opened towards the evening for a short distance southwards, and we rowed to an iceberg; when, however, close under its walls, the cold was so intense that we tried to row round it. As we could not succeed, we retreated as fast as possible from this uncomfortable neighbour; and that just at the right time, for the open water closed behind us once more, and again we saw ourselves condemned to another five days’ existence on the floe. Our latitude was 61° 1′.

_Page 155._

DRAGGING THE BOATS TO THE ILLUIDLEK ISLAND.]

“Up to yesterday morning, 29th of May” (so it runs in the pilot Bade’s day-book), “uninterrupted storm from the north with snow; ice dense, land not often discernible, temperature not under 32° Fahr., mostly 32.5° to 41° Fahr.; not moved from the spot; very wearisome; banished to the boat, as we must not get wet. Each one passes the time as well as he can. Mr. Hildebrandt makes sketches of our boats on and between the ice; Fritz, as cook of the large boat, makes experiments on his fire apparatus in order to insure the greatest economy; Konrad composes poems; the carpenter relates Vegesack stories, and how as captain of a gunboat he sailed by the help of a chart of the Mediterranean from Bremen to Hull, and how by means of soundings he found himself at Ramsgate; I studied Heine’s poems, or carved boats, and so on; Max tried his hand at drawing. Yesterday it gave over snowing; we reviewed our provisions and divided them equally. We have about 27 lbs. of bread per man, 5 lbs. of bacon, some coffee and cocoa, which we hope will last us quite a month. Our appetite is boundless, and the scanty rations to which we are restricted, prevent us from ever feeling satisfied. I have made a small pair of scales, in which I weigh the bread to my crew; the bacon I cut by my eye in pretty equal pieces, which is then given out by call to the men. This is always an exciting moment; all eyes brighten at the sight of the bacon, and a piece of bread is looked upon as tenderly as the finest confection. Fritz pretends to have discovered that one feels much more satisfied by bolting the little one eats, and not biting it much: it seems to last longer! We almost look our eyes out after a seal. Oil and fresh meat would be a delicious addition to our provisions. It is a peculiar and very mixed feeling, to think that in six weeks we shall have nothing to eat; if then we have not reached the land, we must drop off one after the other; but serious as is the thought, there are times when it seems irresistibly comical. Of tobacco we have plenty, and a good portion is consumed every day. Fritz is making himself a new pipe. To-day, the 19th of May, is again lovely weather. Whilst I am writing this at half-past nine a.m., the warmth is 72½° Fahr. The heat is oppressive, the wind calm, the ice quite dense. In such weather it ought soon go to pieces. With the telescope we can see the torrents falling from the steep overhanging rocks on land; fresh water we find everywhere on the floe. Melting the snow is, thank God, over now. Our health is good, only Dr. Buchholz is still suffering. Our eyes have improved these last few days by sparing their use. The temperature of the sea-water is 31° Fahr., that of the fresh water on the floe 32° Fahr. At this moment, I am hearing much astonishment expressed over a fly which has settled on the sails; in reality, a welcome sign. The month of May is, however, no month of delight to us here. Setting aside the mild temperature and the brightness, it differs but little from January, resembling it in the continued northern storms. Real nights we have now no longer; the sun rises at three o’clock and sets shortly before nine; the intermediate period is half twilight. The time must be near for the birds to choose their quarters and lay their eggs. This east coast of Greenland is, indeed, a dead, deserted neighbourhood; and one may judge how difficult it is to get at, as, had our lives depended upon it, we could not once have reached it with the boats.” As no change took place in the position of the ice, we resolved to drag our boats to the Island of Illuidlek, about three miles distant,[17] which we were obliged to admit was hard work. We began on the evening of the 20th. The tow-line which we had made for the purpose during the winter, was made fast through the thole-holes; and we harnessed ourselves to it by a band round the shoulders. Only 300 steps did we advance. Snow fell plentifully, but soon turned to water, so that in our night-quarters in the boat we suffered much from the damp. On the afternoon of the 21st, the weather cleared. The captain and Mr. Hildebrandt undertook a ramble in the direction of land. They found the ice but little adapted for our purpose, nothing but burst fragments, high towering floes, and huge blocks; there were but few fields, and those not more than 100 paces in extent. It seemed almost impossible to pull the boats through these labyrinths of ice to the land; and we were obliged to agree to wait for the working of the spring-floods, which would take place in a few days. The time seemed dreadfully long. Some sailors practised wood-carving. We amused ourselves with the chess-board and carving the pieces; Bade worked at a king in robes and crown; others turned to some useful employment, such as twisting fishing-lines eighty fathoms long, in the hope of hauling up a cod fish wherewith to enrich our pitiful meals.

The 24th of May was glorious weather. The sun shone on us from a cloudless sky, and where its rays fell the thermometer was 96° Fahr. It was a welcome opportunity of drying our washing and clothes thoroughly, which had been in a chronic state of wet, and we eagerly embraced it. The boats, too, were laid open, and steamed under the heat of the sun. All the men turned out. Mr. Bade, the purser, mindful of his duty, was with some of the men hunting for something for dinner. But, alas! seals would not show themselves, fishes would not take the bacon-bait, and the stupid northern-divers were at all events clever enough to keep beyond the reach of shot. A successful attempt to reach the Island of Illuidlek, which was about three miles distant, and lay from 140 to 150 yards high, was made by Mr. Hildebrandt and the sailors Philipp and Paul. After three hours’ exertion, at about one o’clock, they set foot on firm ground. They were with us again by four o’clock. Their return was quicker. In the sailor Heine’s day-book it says:--“The fine weather has lasted. Mr. Hildebrandt, Paul, and I tried to get to land; we succeeded with great difficulty. We ran more than we walked, and sometimes sank deep in the snow. We perspired all over, and the water ran into our boots, so that we had to empty them continually and wring our stockings. The island showed no signs of vegetation, fell steep and often perpendicularly down, and had many fissures and gaps. The southern part seemed more accessible, but we had to hurry our return, and were therefore obliged to give up further investigation.” Heine further reports, as we were led to expect from Graah’s observations, that a small strip of water ran along the land, formed by the torrents falling from the coast. On this swam a few divers. They succeeded in passing this water by standing on a floe, and by means of the boat-hooks pushed themselves from one piece of ice to the other.

_Page 157._

COAST TO THE SOUTH OF ILLUIDLEK.]

The desert, rocky Island of Illuidlek is about ten nautical miles in circumference. They landed on the north-east side at a spot from which, by the help of the boats, they could easily reach the south coast, where we might hope to find protection from the wind and ice drift. There also seemed a prospect of increasing our provisions by hunting sea-birds. This, on the whole favourable report, was given in the captain’s boat, in the presence of the officers and Dr. Laube, and it served to strengthen our resolution to try with all our might for a temporary refuge on this lonely island. No sooner said than done. As the warmth of the sun was already very fatiguing when we were at work, and as in addition to that most of us had not yet recovered from snow-blindness, we agreed, weather permitting, to drag the boats by night and rest by day. In this way we hoped to be on land in eight days. Observations of the 24th of May gave 60° 59.8′ N.L.

Double altitude of the sun’s limb, 86° 25′ 40″. Chronometer, 12h. 21m. 15s. p.m.; reading of the chronometer, 13m. 30.6s., giving the longitude 43° 10.1′ W. According to Graah’s chart, however, it should be 42° 20′ W., resulting in an error in the latter of about 50m.[18] A later comparison of our chronometer with that of the royal Danish brig Constance, gave an error to us of--35.4s., whereby our longitudinal observation would require nine minutes more. The first night with great exertion we advanced 530 paces; seven a.m. fall of snow; rested until eight p.m. Mr. Hildebrandt and Max had a severe attack of snow-blindness, and were obliged to remain quiet in the boat while we pulled it. We were doubtful whether it would not be better to leave the heavy boat King William behind, but we still dragged it on with us, as we hoped to find it of great use on our journey by water.

The 28th was a clear day. We were able to dry our things once more, and find a path for our dragging the next night. By seven a.m. we had gained 700 paces, when it again began to snow. Dragging is fearfully tiring work, and makes but slow progress, particularly when the boats have to be hauled now over high lumps of ice, now over places where the water is only covered with loose snow, on which occasions it does not give merely wet feet, but an entire bath. Dr. Laube is very fortunate that way. I have but one pair of boots, which are so torn with the ice, that the water runs unhindered in and out. Having once reached our goal, stockings and shoes are off at once, and the naked feet put into the fur sleeping-sack, where they soon get warm. Fortunately, each of us has about three pairs of stockings to change; though in this damp weather they dry badly, and often enough we can only wring them and put them on again stone cold as they are. We have borne it well up to this time, but I fear for the consequences. The temperature is seldom below 32° Fahr.

The 27th was Konrad’s birthday. To raise their spirits somewhat, I gave my men a glass of sherry--a festive luxury in our poverty, as our whole store consisted of one bottle of sherry and one of rum. That we might sit dry, we borrowed the oilskin coats from the “Hope,” and hung them up under our sail, which is very thin and lets the rain through, so that we are much better off. The carpenter, thank God, is recovered from his scurvy. Our neighbour, the iceberg, has also changed its form. In the night one side of it fell with a thundering crash. When all is quiet, we can hear from the land the splitting of the perpendicular walls. The nights are light; real darkness we have none, and the twilight, which breaks about twelve, resembles that of our own summer evenings at half-past nine. Water for cooking and drinking we find plentifully on the floe after the rain, and this is acceptable, as our brandy would soon come to an end if we had to melt the snow. “To-day we have been on our way with the boats twenty-one days, and to-day it is exactly a year since I left home; what may have happened there since then? Will the next news be sad or joyful? What have we accomplished in this time? what endured? When shall we again see our beloved country? We all naturally hope for a return.” (Bade’s day-book.)

The work is getting more difficult. First the boats have to be emptied, and pulled to the spot where our next day’s rest is to be taken, while we frequently have to go over walls of ice, the slipping downwards being often more difficult than the pulling up. Then the boats tip over in the snow, or get caught behind a piece of ice, when it costs us untold trouble to get them free again. Then, again, we have to go over rifts in the ice, and weary ourselves over places where it has fallen in. When this difficult manœuvre is happily accomplished, all the things must be put in again. At this work each has to carry from 100 to 105 lbs. weight; and one can imagine that, as with this burden we now sink deep into snow or snow-water, and now have to climb over closely-packed fragments of floes, all that is not really necessary is left behind. On the night of the 30th to the 31st of May, we left the longest distance behind us yet accomplished, viz. 1200 paces. As we had drawn two boats to their destination, the captain, who had been leading and energetic the whole night, and also active in dragging the boats, fainted.

In all this galling work hunger tormented us; and if night gave us sweet dreams of tables richly provided with food, on awaking, our murmuring, grumbling stomachs soon brought us back to reality.

Beginning of June, uninterrupted storms from the north, and fall of rain as from a bowl since the last three days and nights. Our bad, thin sail can scarcely stand the drops which fall like lead upon it. Truly we in the King William are not to be envied. Our rations, too, are getting scantier than ever! As there is not even a distant prospect of increasing our provisions, our meals are reduced to two in twenty-four hours; and every morning at nine I give each a quarter of a pound of bread and a small bit of bacon, and at six in the evening the same weight of bread, and to all a half-ration of cold soup with meat in it. In the morning we could still have a drink of coffee; but in the evening cocoa only. Our brandy disappeared rapidly; if we did not soon kill a seal, to supply oil for fuel, we should be obliged to give up warm food. Thus one can imagine that we are plagued with a continual and never-satisfied wolf’s craving. The bread-bag and remainder of the bacon I have always by my side for safety’s sake. The conversation turns upon nothing but eating. Max only wishes he was in the Exchange Restaurant at Bremen; Konrad would be contented with a juicy beefsteak with some eggs, and maintains that he could at once demolish twenty-five eggs with one pound of butter and sixpennyworth of bread; at the same time, the eye falls upon the clock and counts the hours which must still pass before the scanty meal will recur.

And how quietly and devotedly is the meal then taken! how busy is each trying to stifle the gnawing hunger, if only for a short time! If one could only get rid of the burdensome feeling by sleep! But scarcely does sleep come than the water leaks on to our faces, or one of the coats on the roof glides from the edge of the boat, scattering the whole of its watery contents upon us.

Konrad was quite sad this morning; in his sleep he had consumed a portion of ham and some poached eggs one after the other, but on waking felt so dreadfully hollow within. The wet cold air of 39° Fahr. in the boat is very disagreeable; we shiver unceasingly. It is really wonderful that we are so well, though we feel that our strength is diminishing. When will open water, either to sail or row in, appear before us? Shall we even now, after so many dangers and difficulties overcome, be destined to a miserable end? Before yesterday the ice pushed and got into motion, probably on account of the spring-tide and the storm, but it packed itself closer than ever, and did not open again. It is to be hoped we shall soon have better weather. We have moved somewhat nearer the island, whether to our advantage or not we do not know.

At length, on the 4th of June, we succeeded in landing on Illuidlek. This day we dragged the boats 2000 paces in thirteen hours, and at eight p.m. we were able to launch them.