SLEDGE JOURNEYS IN SPRING. APRIL–JULY, 1870.[86]
Excursion to Klein Pendulum.--Sledge tour to the
Hühnerberg.--Ascent of the icebergs.--Return to the ship in a
storm.--Second expedition to Hühnerberg and Kronenberg.--Superb
illumination of the felspar rocks of the Hasenberg.--Return to
Klein Pendulum.--Picturesque region of Kefersteinberg.--Starting
for the Geodetical Expedition on the 14th of May.--Iversen
snow-blind.--Spectacles.--Provision depôt erected.--Copeland
and Sengstacke depart for Hochstetter’s Foreland.--Discovery
of lignite.--A musk-ox calf caught.--First ascent of
the Muschelberg.--Third ascent of Cape Bremen.--Sudden
thaw.--Starting for Hochstetter’s Foreland.--Impossibility
of advancing the sledges.--Toilsome progress.--The
Muschelberg.--Sledges left behind.--Cape Hamburg.--The Fligely
Fjord.--Deficiency of provisions.--Passage over Clavering’s
Straits.--Arrival on board on 17th of July.--Magnetical and
astronomical observations.
In the beginning of April, the state of Dr. Börgen’s health was such
that he was compelled to take great care of himself, and in all
geodetical work had to content himself with being adviser only. It
was therefore decided that on the 4th Dr. Copeland should make an
excursion to Klein Pendulum, to choose some sites and to signal from
thence, whether the Hühnerberg, as well as the intended stations on
Kuhn Island and Tellplatte were visible, and therefore could be easily
connected with the others on Sabine Island. On this occasion we used
a small sledge made for the purpose by the carpenter and the smith.
The ice was very thin, and we had to pick our way carefully along the
“Ice-foot.” After passing the south-east point of the island we saw a
walrus sleeping on the ice, which Copeland and Iversen killed. Upon
skinning the creature fifteen minutes after its death, the warmth
of the blood in the jugular vein was ninety-eight; we may therefore
conclude that this is its true warmth, as in that short time it could
not possibly have fallen to any extent. In the straits between the two
islands we came upon the old ice, and started direct across to Klein
Pendulum, where at half-past seven we raised our tent at the foot of
the Stufenberg. The next morning was stormy, and we could not leave
the tent until evening, when Dr. Copeland set out to find the station
where, the summer before, we had taken our observations. We then built
a small cairn about fourteen yards to the south-west of it, and as the
spot is easy of access and may be visited by future travellers, the
following particulars may be useful. The cairn stands near a group
of Esquimaux winter huts, its top being 32 feet 9 inches above the
mean height of the water. The latitude and longitude, according to
observations made last autumn, is 74° 37′ 37″ North, and 1° 13′ 57″, or
18° 29′ 2″ West from Greenwich.
The next day was rather fine; we climbed the Stufenberg, and added
seven feet to the height of the cairn built by Lieutenant Payer the
year before. Through a telescope of 18-lines aperture, we could
distinguish the small cairn built by Drs. Börgen and Copeland the
August before on the Hühnerberg.
The following day, the 7th, the weather was anything but satisfactory;
but we climbed the north-westerly height of the island, which,
according to our chart, had been chosen as a station. This height we
called Church Point, as the rocky masses reminded us of a church, and
here we built a cairn; though, owing to the fog, we were unable to
decide whether the spot would ever be useful as a station.
Friday, 8th of April, the weather had become worse, and we were
doubtful what to do; but at last decided that after signalling another
point from Klein Pendulum, we should either climb the Tafelberg north
of Hansa Bay, or any other height, then round by Sabine Island to the
Kronenberg, in order to supply this with a cairn. But upon reaching the
coast of Sabine Island, north of Hansa Bay, the weather had become so
bad that we determined to return on board; and as the young ice was now
safe, we reached the ship shortly after three p.m., although our sledge
was heavily laden with the skin of the walrus.
On Monday, the 11th, Dr. Copeland accompanied by Dr. Pansch, Iversen,
and Warkmeister, started once more, this time for the mainland, to
signal from the Hühnerberg and then to go on to the Kronenberg. By the
time we reached the foot of the Hühnerberg it was too late to climb it,
so we visited a glacier lying in one of those peculiar cauldron-shaped
valleys in which the Pendulum Islands abound. The water which runs from
this glacier in the summer finds its way by subterranean channels into
the sea.
The surface seemed free from cracks; but an ever-recurring cracking
noise told us that even at this season of the year it was not
motionless. The lower part stood so far behind the upper, that we were
bound to conclude that the upper strata moved forwards quicker than
the under. It seemed as if very recently many large ice-blocks had
fallen, and others hung in such dangerous positions that we dared not
venture nearer, even to get some loose stones scattered among the ice.
The aneroid barometer gave the height of the lower edge of the glacier
at 370 feet above the level of the sea. Pansch sketched while Copeland
took observations. The whole of that night the thermometer stood at 22°
below zero, but we were so heavily covered with woollen clothing that
we did not suffer.
[Illustration: HÜHNERBERG GLACIER.]
[Illustration: THE KRONENBERG.]
The next day we had a fresh breeze from the north, with fog. But we
needed a clear prospect, in order to decide upon the desirability of
the stations chosen; as we often had to give them up, when from any
change in the refraction the distant station could not be seen. At
about half-past one we reached the summit; to the north and west was
still a clear view, and we recognized all that we had observed the
year before relating to the extent of land and the formation of the
mountains. Clavering Island, with its jagged points and rounded tops,
seemed quite near. But there were signs of an approaching storm, and
though from our stand-point we were at least eight nautical miles from
open water, and eighteen from the drifting ice, we could still hear
the cracking and pressing of the icy masses on the high seas.
The 13th and part of the 14th we were compelled to keep in the tent,
with nothing to read and nothing to do. The thought that our ship
lay within seven nautical miles of us, and that the next day was
Good Friday, raised our impatience to such a pitch that we finally
determined in spite of the drifting snow to make an attempt to reach
it. The chart was consulted, our course decided upon, and the tent
poles were drawn. The deeper we got into the straits, and the less
the wind was influenced by the mountain slopes, the more we had to
depend upon the compass; but at last we trusted entirely to the wind,
always keeping the same side of the body against it, as from our long
experience we knew that during the whole of a storm the wind never
changed its direction.
Our way now lay along the south coast of Sabine Island; but wishing to
avoid the deep snow and the smooth ice which alternated close to the
shore, we kept farther out, thereby making a great mistake, for we were
walking in a south-easterly direction straight to the open water. A
look at the compass, however, soon set us right, and about eight p.m.
we were once more on board.
Good Friday, the 15th, the weather was better. Copeland employed it, as
he was on Sabine Island, in choosing another spot on the Germaniaberg
instead of that called No. 4, and also in simplifying the triangle.
The 16th and 17th were unfavourable. The 18th was a glorious day. Dr.
Copeland, accompanied by Mr. Sengstacke, Iversen, and Warkmeister,
returned to the tent left on the Hühnerberg. It was completely snowed
up, and took nearly the whole afternoon to dig out. At three the next
morning we climbed the mountain and built a cairn. It was wonderfully
fine, at -4° Fahr.
The cairn built on Church Point station on the 7th was just visible,
but the direction went so straight over the slope of the Kefersteinberg
that we feared we should have some difficulty in seeing it.
By four p.m. we were again in the tent, and then started for the
Kronenberg, part of our way lying along one of those long islands of
which there are so many in Clavering Straits, and between Sabine and
Pendulum Islands. Here, as there, they were composed of huge rocky
masses of vertical plates of basalt, from nine to twelve feet in
length. At half-past eight p.m. we raised our tent at the foot of the
Kronenberg, where to our great joy we could see the newly-built cairn
on the Hühnerberg with the naked eye.
The next day we climbed the mountain, and were astonished to find
yellow sandstone, while the whole crown consisted of beautiful vertical
plates of basalt. The sandstone covers the whole of the upper part,
and contained the remains of some carbonized plants. Upon this march
Dr. Copeland’s eyes were severely tried by snow-blindness, as also the
boatswain’s. On our return journey we enjoyed a beautiful sight. The
sun was already low on the north-west horizon, so that the whole of the
straits and the mountains of the mainland were in deep shadow. Only
the steep cliffs of the Hasenberg shone in a purple glow, contrasting
strangely with the azure blue of the sky and the fixed deadly whiteness
of the snow. The colouring was sometimes so intense that one might
fancy the basalt rocks were in a red glow of fire.
We reached the ship at midnight, though still in broad daylight. From
this time until the middle of August lasted the long Arctic day of 100
days.
Dr. Copeland suffered from snow-blindness for some time; but the
weather was nearly always stormy and foggy, so that but little could
be done in the open air. This enforced rest we employed in carefully
considering our triangle. We then decided to give up the stations on
Church Point and Stufenberg, and take instead but one station on the
highest point of Klein Pendulum, and for those on Sabine Island take
only the Kefersteinberg. This was a great simplifying of the area, and
we thereby obtained a larger basis for the northern triangulation. Our
plan was now decided upon and the measurement of the base was to be
commenced at once. Sengstacke, Mersen and Copeland left the ship on
Sunday the 24th of April at four a.m., without either tent or sledge,
going through the valleys to the south-east of the island, and at
forty-five minutes past eight reached the coast of Klein Pendulum at
the entrance of a large valley.
Here grew much moss, and flocks of ptarmigan were chirping as gaily
as if they were enjoying the summer already, although the thermometer
stood only at 32° F.
All signals except that on the Hühnerberg were distinctly visible.
A couple of hares which we killed here increased the weight of our
knapsacks, but also gave us some fresh meat, which was very acceptable.
Reaching the coast once more, we halted a short time to heat some
frozen soup. In a temperature of -4°, with a sharp north wind blowing,
hungry and spent as we were, we could scarcely keep ourselves warm
until the snow was melted.
The cairn which we built there could be seen at a distance of nearly
forty English miles.
In the mean time Dr. Börgen had recovered and could now take his share
in the work. The next thing to be done before the beginning of the
great sledge journey was the measuring of the base. We had already made
an attempt at this, in the beginning of March, but were obliged to give
it up. Measuring-stakes and tripods had been buried on the spot, and
from time to time we had seen that all was right. When on the 25th we
thought to take them up without any trouble, we found that the tripods
which we had buried in two boxes heavily weighted with stones, were
scattered around and that the stakes were not to be found. Since Mr.
Sengstacke’s last visit on the 20th April a bear had no doubt been
there, and a storm might have carried away the stakes. We had now to
provide new ones as soon as possible, for which purpose Mr. Sengstacke
gave us two oars belonging to the large boat, which were the required
length of twelve feet six inches. On the morning of the 27th the
sleighing party returned from the north. The remainder of the day was
of course given up to them, and the joy of their return; and on the
30th April, the first part of the base of 296 feet was again measured.
The temperature at this time was not above 14°, and we feel sure that
the lowness of temperature is no hindrance whatever to European base
measurement in Arctic regions with the most delicate instruments and
the utmost exactness.
On an excursion to the top of the Kefersteinberg we climbed several
gently rising valleys, and at last over a yard and a half broad
rift, to the left of which is a very beautiful cauldron-shaped
valley with steep walls, in which a glacier has its rise. To the
right the mountain declines in not very steep slopes on to the flat
shore of Hansa Bay. One more gently sloping hill, and we are at the
top; to the north, the declivity is so steep that the little stones
can scarcely lie upon it without rolling. Turning from here to the
plateau, which sinks by degrees to the west, towards the Kronenberg,
a most picturesque and interesting amphitheatre is seen, consisting
of basaltic columns. Numbers of them lie in fragments, which are ever
increased by others falling amongst them with a thundering noise. But
many columns, from six to nine feet thick and hundreds of feet high,
still withstand the storms and other influences which seek to destroy
them. Many stand quite isolated, and being broken in several places,
lean overhanging against each other in such a way that they threaten
to fall every moment: but it requires other strength than that of the
hand of man to hurl such masses from their position. The whole of
this valley which surrounds the Kronenberg to the east, resembles the
crumbled wall of a crater, and is grandly picturesque.
On the 9th of May, Copeland and Iversen passed four hours on the top of
this mountain (2252 feet high), which is not only the highest point of
the island but of the whole group.
By the 14th of May our base was completely measured; the sledge was
packed, the stakes made even once more, and at ten p.m. we started on
another journey. We left the ship accompanied by Capt. Koldewey, who
with four men helped us to pull for some miles. It was greatly to be
wished that we might be able to carry our triangle as far as Haystack.
Three nautical miles from the ship our friends left us. At six a.m.
we reached our former resting-place, half-way along the west coast of
Klein Pendulum, where we were met by our old friends the ptarmigans;
here we slept the whole of the sunny day and began our march in the
evening.
Our road lay at first on the smooth undulating fresh-water ice, running
along the coast-line, our only fear being that of running ourselves
down from the momentum of the sledge. Between Kuhn Island, Shannon and
Pendulum Straits the snow lay full of holes, the outer crust being
hard; but the sledge slides broke through, and it was soft beneath, so
that the tent-poles pierced it easily at least seven feet and a half.
At six a.m. on the 16th we were only one nautical mile and a half north
of Klein Pendulum, and quite exhausted we put up our tent for a rest;
starting again in the evening, we could take only part of our baggage
with us, and after marching two nautical miles and a half had to go
back for the other part. Upon starting it was so foggy that we had to
direct our course by the compass, though a lift showed us the edge of
the land ice a few nautical miles from us. This day we marched fifteen
nautical miles and found ourselves in 74° 55′ N. Lat., exactly south of
Tellplatte. We here discovered by the Dancer-telescope, to our great
joy, that all the cairns built were visible, although they were quite
from fifteen to twenty nautical miles distant.
The exertions of the last few days had so greatly exhausted our
strength that we could not start again until eight a.m. on the 19th.
At noon we trod the coast, and climbed the mountain to choose the spot
for our cairn. The ground resembled Cape Philip Broke, which we had
visited the year before. Huge blocks of basalt lay around, one resting
upon these small stones, as if man’s hand had placed it there for a
purpose. On the highest point of the south-easterly part of one of the
hills still stood a cairn built the autumn before by Lieut. Payer,
and this seemed to be the best spot we could find on the Tellplatte.
Traces of the musk-ox were everywhere to be seen, and soon we saw six
full-grown animals and two calves. Returning in the evening we found
Iversen snow-blind.
[Illustration: BLOCK OF BASALT.]
The next day, the 20th, so violent a south wind blew, accompanied by
fog, that we could do nothing but erect a depôt; about 250 lbs. of
provisions and reserve clothing were buried in different places in the
rock, and stones rolled against them. The coast here forms a small bay
about half a nautical mile broad. Along the strand were numerous tent
circles and many other signs, such as bones of the walrus and seal,
and heaps of mussel-shells, showing that formerly this had evidently
been a favourite summer resort of the Esquimaux.
In the tent we refreshed ourselves with two newly killed hares, cooked
by a fire of willow wood and bear’s fat. Towards the evening, as the
wind dropped we went to the spot where our cairn was to be built,
leaving Iversen, whose eyes were worse, behind in the tent; it was
still too windy, however, to do anything with the theodolite, so we
built the cairn and ascertained by the barometer the height of the
hill; this was 672 feet above the surface of the sea. On our return we
passed through a broad valley to the south of our station, whose rich
vegetation had attracted a whole herd of musk-oxen, eleven full-grown
animals and three calves. It was remarkable how carefully, even in
their hurried flight, they looked after the calves, which, although
certainly not more than fourteen days old, ran with astonishing speed.
It was morning before we reached the tent; we rested until the evening,
and on the 21st of May continued our journey. The weather was quiet but
foggy.
We also found to our relief that the sledge went easily with the whole
of the baggage. With the exception of an hour in which to make some
coffee, we marched until ten a.m. of the next day. This was our longest
march, being thirteen nautical miles.
Here we took an observation for magnetic declination, which gave 44°
52′ westerly; and fixed the position of the place as 74° 55.2′ N. Lat.
and 19° 9′ Long. west of Greenwich. In the evening it was 14° Fahr.,
and when we started at midnight 7°, making the snow hard. Until six
a.m. this was good, then the influence of the sun began to be felt, and
the sledge sank deeper and deeper.
We pitched our tent over against a huge ice-block, and were soon under
the bed-clothes, but not for long, for the sun shone so powerfully on
the tent that by one p.m. the temperature was 81° Fahr., whilst in the
shade the glass stood some degrees below freezing.
We started again at one a.m., and even for the short stretch of a
mile and a half we had to divide our baggage, some of which had to be
left behind. Whilst Iversen and the boatswain effected this change,
we climbed the Ruthner to signal. On the way from the ice-block to
the shore we saw traces of a sledge, which we rightly attributed to
Lieutenant Payer, who, not being able to penetrate the Fjord, had to
return to the ship.
After reading the barometer on the shore we climbed the mountain. In
the snow were traces of musk-oxen, reindeer, lemmings, foxes, and
hares; a bear, too, was seen in the distance. The upper part of this
mountain consists, I believe, of mica-schist, the strata of which falls
at an inclination of about 30° to the north-west.
Below is rather a rich vegetation, particularly of _Andromeda
tetragona_, whilst above, where the stones lie loose, there is no
trace of it. Here the first flies were evidently enjoying the warmth
of the stones; the top we found was formed of a steep roof of snow and
ice, not very extensive, but enough to make it of no use to us. This
was unfortunate, as all the points of our triangle, such as Tellplatte,
Pendulum, and Hühnerberg, could be distinctly seen. Besides these were
two others erected by Lieutenant Payer, one at Cape Bremen, and one at
the “black wall,” to the south of our standing point.
The prospect from Ruthner to westward, if only over the interior of
Kuhn Island, is wonderfully beautiful. The wildly rent mountains,
with broad ravines and narrow gorges, and the wonderful contrast of
the granite sandstone, and basaltic rocks against the blinding white
snow, made a never-to-be-forgotten impression. To the north end of
the island lay a long, narrow channel, running deep into the land
to the west; where to, remained an unsolved question. In Ardencaple
Inlet at 75°, and Gael Hamkes Bay in 74°, was ample room for sledging
expeditions in the spring and autumn. Our interesting excursion ended
at three-quarters past six p.m. At seven on the 25th of May we left
Ruthner, which we were unable to use as a station, for Cape Bremen,
reaching the shore beneath it by half-past three a.m. It was quite
clear and evident to us that our sledge journeys would soon have to be
given up for this year, and therefore it would be impossible to carry
our measuring as far as Haystack. The furthest we could hope to reach
was a spot on Hochstetter’s Promontory, in order to connect it with the
Observatory on Sabine Island; this Copeland and Sengstacke were to do,
and choose the station from which to signal. Börgen and Iversen were
to climb Cape Bremen, to heighten the cairn already built, and there
begin the measurement of the angles. We should then visit Tellplatte
once more, and leaving all we could behind, hurry on board with the
instruments.
We trod Hochstetter’s Promontory at a small tongue of land, behind
which stretched a rather large bay; here we found, to our astonishment,
some brown coal, some of which we collected for a fire. We soon came
upon a family of musk-oxen, which all fled at our approach, except a
calf, which we caught. We were, however, a long way from the ship, and
its loud and unceasing bellowing put us in some danger, so we were
forced to kill it, preserving only the skin and head for the zoological
collection.
We mounted the most easterly of two hills forming the greatest
projecting point of the peninsula. The whole summit is composed of
plates of a dark kind of marble chalk-stone, which answered our purpose
beautifully, and after four hours’ hard work we had the pleasure of
seeing a cairn two yards and a half high, and a base of at least two
yards in diameter. Under its protection we had a short sleep and
refreshment of water, blackbread, pemmican, and ham, which tasted
excellent. We then continued our journey, and, after an absence of
twenty-five hours, reached the tent, where our comrades were sleeping,
at half-past seven p.m. on the 27th.
About noon on the following day we climbed the mountain for the third
and last time, and were received by such a violent west wind that it
was impossible to put up our instruments.
We retraced our steps through the ravine, but what a change! Spring had
indeed come with might. Where forty-eight hours before not a drink of
water could be had without a fire, and where twenty-four hours before
we could hear a low gurgling deep under the snow, were now countless
rills of crystal water and a foaming, rushing torrent. But we were
indeed astonished upon reaching the shore to find our tent, which we
had left on a gravelly hillock, standing on a peninsula in the midst of
a broad sea. Yes, the Arctic summer comes overnight! how else would it
be possible, in the short space of three months, for the earth to bring
forth flowers, and for the fruit to ripen?
At four a.m. on the 4th of June we prepared to carry out our plan of
taking the sledge to Hochstetter’s Promontory, but it was a colossal
work; at every step both ourselves and the sledge broke through,
and some inches of water stood on the ice, so that our boots were
soon full. We now determined to leave everything behind except the
instruments, and, keeping close to the coast, reach the ship as soon as
possible.
On our way we found the first blooming plant, a _Saxifraga
oppositifolia_. Copeland and Iversen went hunting, and killed two
musk-oxen; upon reaching the top we were just in time to take the sun’s
altitude; it then clouded over, and began to snow. Deep in Ardencaple
Inlet we discovered a glacier reaching down to the sea, from which, no
doubt, proceeded the greater portion of the icebergs with which this
Fjord is filled.
In Ardencaple Inlet and north of Kuhn Island so much water had
collected on the ice that the mountains were reflected in it; we might
therefore make up our minds to wade from thirteen to fourteen hours
through water at 32°.
At eleven p.m. we retraced our steps, with the intention of visiting
the western hill, which we conjectured to be the beds _in situ_ of
the brown coal which lay in such quantities on the shore; this was so
good that it lit with a lucifer-match. By noon we had returned to the
tent, and after sleeping twenty-four hours began our return march to
Cape Bremen, which we reached on the morning of the 10th.
By the telescope we inspected the south coast of Bastian’s Bay, and
found it almost impossible for us to get along with the sledge, which
we therefore decided upon leaving behind, taking with us on our backs
nothing but the instruments, the tent, and a few other things. Three
great difficulties we should have to surmount--the passage of Bastian’s
Bay, the Fligely Fjord, and Clavering Straits; the whole distance we
hoped to do in four marches at the utmost.
After a short sleep we began our march on the 10th of June, at
midnight, each with a weight of from 40 lb. to 50 lb. on his back.
We first tried to cross the bay direct, but this we found impossible
from the depth of water and snow upon the ice. We therefore went along
the coast to the narrowest part, which we crossed in two hours, and at
ten p.m. on the 11th of June we began our second day’s journey; but we
seemed to have over-estimated our strength, and could scarcely hope
to reach the ship by the time we had hoped; we had, therefore, to be
careful of our provisions, which had fallen very low. Fortunately for
us, we fell in with a herd of fifteen musk-oxen and four calves; they
were very shy and restless, which we could account for afterwards, as
Lieutenant Payer had already met them and killed two. We fired four
shots, and had the satisfaction of bringing down one young bull.
We soon had a bright fire of willow branches, and some Andromeda made
us an excellent soup, which, with the liver and heart of the animal,
afforded us a refreshing meal. This day we saw a number of sea-gulls,
and caught an ermine, already in its summer dress, which we took on
board. The exertions of the previous days, our constantly wet feet and
boots, were beginning to tell upon us. The feet began to swell, and
Sengstacke and the boatswain suffered much. At eleven p.m., on the
12th, we began our third day’s march, and soon reached the summit of
the foreland, the height of which we found to be 994 feet. Vegetation
was here rather plentiful, the willow, the dwarf birch, and a shrub
somewhat resembling the pine, though not belonging to this group. From
here we descended quickly to the shore, and came upon a layer of coal
clay about twelve yards thick, containing a number of fossils, which
were unfortunately lost.
[Illustration: FOSSIL FROM KUHN ISLAND.]
As we descended the slope to the coast, we saw walking along the shore
a she-bear, and two cubs, the size of a poodle, playing together, the
mother taking no notice of them whatever. No sooner did the young ones
perceive the hunter than they galloped towards their mother, who in two
strides turned and stood by them, with such rage expressed in all her
actions, that we knew we must be careful; finding, however, that they
were unhurt, she seemed to think only of bringing them to a place of
safety.
It was eleven p.m. on the 13th of June when we prepared ourselves for
the most difficult and critical part of our journey, the passage of
the Fligely Fjord. We kept on the northern side of the straits, until
we came to the narrowest part, according to Payer’s chart, opposite a
tongue of land. The water was here from 111 feet to 125 feet deep,
covered with a thin coating of ice, which broke at every step.
Fortunately, just at the moment when we were going to leave our
instruments behind, we came upon a firm bank of snow, where we rested
awhile, and warmed our feet in our hands, and wrung out our stockings,
after which we got on better, and, had our provisions been somewhat
more plentiful, we should have felt quite comfortable; but they only
consisted of biscuit-dust, of which we had two table-spoonfuls at each
meal, with some coffee and meat.
At two a.m. on the 15th we started once more. The road was good, but
the diminution of our strength was more and more perceptible. Every
little while we had to rest. We were now passing through a great
valley in which were some considerable streams to ford. Soon we came
to a broad, deep river, with a strong current. After several attempts,
we at last pitched upon a spot in which, sinking up to the waist, we
succeeded in crossing.
It now seemed necessary to leave our things behind. Sengstacke was
not well, and we were not much better, and, as we did not wish to get
really ill by remaining in our wet things, we thought it better to
hurry on to the ship.
At eight p.m. on the 15th all was ready for starting, when a snow-storm
set in, and we began to think of murdering some of the Boatswain birds
(_Lestris parasitica_) which were flying about us, when Iversen
descried a fine reindeer, and a luck shot brought it to the ground.
At eight a.m. on the 16th we started for our last march; the snow in
Clavering Straits, at which we had secretly quailed, we found firmer
than we expected, so that we soon came to the island, and, after
eighteen hours’ march, trod the deck of our good Germania at two a.m.
on the 17th of June.
The hearty welcome we received from Captain Koldewey, Dr. Pansch, and
Lieutenant Payer greatly enhanced the pleasure of our return. Some days
later Sengstacke fetched the instruments which we had left behind.