234 SPITSBERGEN chap, xvii 



convenient rock, with the water lapping at our feet, the boat 

 bumping on the shingle, and the birds fluttering above from 

 their shelf-planted nests. A knob of ice that afterwards fell 

 close to Gregory's head suggested that we might have 

 chosen a safer reading-room. 



Long such charming conditions could not be expected 

 to last. The change came very gradually. A white bank 

 of fog formed upon the water, blotting out all save the 

 tips of the hills. It lay almost motionless at first, only 

 drifting or crawling about; presently it condensed into 

 clouds, which rose and strewed themselves about and over 

 the hills, darkening the landscape and chilling the air. This 

 was the end of the Spitsbergen summer. With the turn of 

 the tide came a wind, far too fresh, which soon tumbled 

 the water about and covered the fjord with white caps. 

 When the men came back and we could set forth, wind 

 and tide were against us. The sail could not be used, and 

 hard rowing was our fate for fifteen miles or more. The 

 waves grew bigger, catching our boat on the quarter and 

 splashing over. It was a bucketing row. Gregory and I 

 landed for a time to walk along the shore for survey and 

 collecting. We found a cauliflower and half a pine- 

 apple on the beach ; not brought by the Gulf-stream 

 from warmer climes, but by the great Hamburg steamer 

 Columbia, which had recently visited Advent Bay with a 

 cargo of tourists. The pleasant walk on shore soon came 

 to an end, for eastward of Advent Bay are a series of cliffs 

 which must be turned by water. 



Now there was rocking and misery afloat, and a cold 

 that froze the marrow in one's bones. Happy were the 

 rowers. I sat or rather lay in the stern on a pile of 

 goods, making notes of the coast-line with trembling 

 ringers and no slight tendency to mal de mer, foul visitant, 

 not, alas ! confined to the hateful ocean. We turned 



