672 THE VOYAGE OE THE JE ANNETTE. 



abreast a large glacier, whose broken edge (it may be 

 twenty feet high) we can see with a glass. I have 

 watched carefully all day for a landing-place, but not 

 one has shown. The coast is either steep cliff or gla- 

 cier, and neither is a successful landing-place. The ba- 

 rometer is now at a stand, — I think 29.63 at 33°, — 

 and, though rain is occasionally falling, and the sky is 

 dark and threatening where the fog does not hide it 

 altogether, I am in hopes the weather will improve dur- 

 ing the night. Supper (bear stew) at six p. m. Piped 

 down at nine. 



July 27th, Wednesday. — Called all hands at six. 

 Breakfasted at seven. The wind has veered to E., and 

 is dying away. A thick fog continues, hiding every- 

 thing fifty yards distant. The barometer is rising, — 

 29.67 at 36°, the temperature is 28.5°, from which 

 two things I anticipate clearing weather. Meanwhile, 

 we remain where we are. " Hope deferred maketh the 

 heart sick." Patiently and hopefully have I waited 

 all the forenoon for a clearing, but still, at one P. m., 

 does the fog hang about us impenetrably. The barom- 

 eter still goes up (29.72 at 38°), and the temperature 

 is 30°. 



Soundings in sixteen fathoms water, and I am afraid 

 we have drifted down abreast the point west, and are 

 too far west to hope for any benefit from the bay in 

 which yesterday we shoaled our water to thirteen fath- 

 oms, in which case we are now beginning to open the 

 west face of the island. This will be the last forlorn 

 hope for open water in this neighborhood. 



And yet there is much to be thankful for ; everybody 

 is in excellent health, in spite of our terribly hard work ; 

 the appetites are something wonderful to think of, and 

 our sleep is sound and unbroken. Forty-one days of 



