68 THE GERMAN ARCTIC EXPEDITION. 



see, is sad and grey. An auk or a diver, now and 

 again flying before the sliip, is the only thing presented 

 to the wandering eye. Occasionally the gloom lightens 

 so much, that one can just make out where the sun is ; 

 but it is seldom so far visible as to afford us an obser- 

 vation for latitude, or the sight of a fogbow : but every 

 hope of a change which might rise at such a moment was 

 at once destroyed by fresh mist rolling up thicker than 

 ever. One glance over the different diaries at this par- 

 ticular time will best show the depressing influence of 

 such continual foggy weather. As in the North Sea over 

 the constant north wind, so here over the new enemy, 

 the everlasting complaint was, — "Fog! thick fog!" 

 And if it would stop at that ! But now the small 

 vesicles condense and fall first like fine spray, and then 

 like a heavy shower, though without bringing any relief 

 from the fog. The sails flap, the running-gear droops ; 

 and, added to this, is a fresh cold breeze, with the 

 ship swinging to and fro. At such a time every one 

 appears on deck in the excellent oil-skin clothes, 

 with high boots and serviceable sou' westers. With 

 wide and cautious steps, we walk up and down on the 

 ever wet and slippery deck, our eyes, as if open sea lay 

 before us, constantly sweeping the horizon and turning 

 doubly disappointed away. The sight of the swaying 

 masts and the rustle of the untiring wavelets against the 

 ship's side, at length bring the comfortless impression of 

 all surroundings to rest. The mind turns inwards upon 

 itself; and amidst all the thoughts of the serious and yet 

 eagerly looked-for future, the remembrance of the past 

 and home stand vividly before us. We think of the last 

 time we were on land, of that wonderfully beautiful and 



