THE MARCH OVER THE FROZEN OCEAN. 639 



good one and a half miles. Nothing could be seen of 

 the land and water we saw yesterday. The southwest 

 horizon was foggy. Many dovekies (guillemots) were 

 seen, several gulls, one auk, and, strange to say, the 

 doctor picked up a live butterfly, which I have pre- 

 served. This last is not an habitue of the ice, and was 

 certainly blown from the land by the southeaster of 

 yesterday, or by the south wester which followed it. 



Supper at 7.30 A. m. Nobody under our conditions 

 could write very fully all the occurrences of a day, and 

 I am very glad before turning in each morning to re- 

 member even as much as I write. The hundred trials 

 and difficulties in getting along, the heavy hauling, etc., 

 are regular, and once mentioned need no repetition. 

 No doubt, one of these days I can more satisfactorily 

 describe our march over the frozen ocean, but just now 

 these rough notes must suffice. Sounded in twenty- 

 three fathoms ; muddy bottom, rapid drift S. E. Piped 

 down at nine A. M. Called all hands at six P. m. ; 

 breakfasted at seven p. m. ; fresh N. W. wind ; ba- 

 rometer, 30.05 at 40° ; thermometer, 31° ; cloudy and 

 foggy ; under way at eight p. m. Immediately we had 

 to ferry all our things across from the island on which 

 we camped to the one alongside of it, and from there 

 to adjoining ones, and at 12.30 A. m., 



July loth, Wednesday, we had only made one half 

 mile good, reaching then a strip of ice about a mile 

 long. Halted for dinner, and at 1.50 went ahead 

 again. Traversed this one mile piece, and then came 

 to an opening about two hundred feet wide, separating 

 us from an ice-island, which on the opposite side was 

 near enough to a floe piece to make access easy. By 

 great good luck there were three large cakes floating 

 along this two hundred foot opening ; we seized on 



