CHAPTER XXXI. 



A NEW START. — SPECULATIONS. — IN A FOG. — POLAR SCENERY. — STOPPED B1 

 ROTTEN ICE. — LOOKING AHEAD. — CONCLUSIONS. — THE OPEN SEA. — CLI- 

 MAX OF THE JOURNEY. — RETURNING SOUTH. 



The unexpected breaking down of my strong man, 

 Jensen, was a misfortune only one degree less keenly 

 felt than the previous failure of the foot party, and it 

 troubled me much ; for, while I lost the services of a 

 stout arm and an active body, I was naturally anxious 

 about his safety. With a helpless man on my hands, 

 and with four hundred and fifty miles of rough ice 

 between me and the schooner, — with but scant de- 

 pots of provision by the way, calculated only for a 

 journey with empty sledges, I must own that I was 

 somewhat perplexed. 



When the morning came, Jensen was found to have 

 improved but little and was scarcely able to move. I 

 promptly determined to leave him in charge of Mc- 

 Donald, and to push on with Knorr alone. Lest acci- 

 dent from rotten ice (the only one that I had to fear) 

 should befall me, I left with McDonald five dogs, with 

 directions to await us as many days, and then make 

 the best of his way back to Port Foulke. 



Our simple breakfast over, I was once more plung- 

 ing through the hummocks, making my last throw. 

 Our track lay across a bay so deep that the distance 

 would be more than quadrupled if we followed its 

 tortuous windings of the shore upon the land-ice. 



