SHERARD OSBORNE FJORD 



a distance, however carefully he moves, and with a pang 

 through our hearts we see one seal after the other disappearing 

 through the ice. But also this disappointment we can bear if 

 only the weather will keep so that we can get our clothes dried 

 and push on upward. 



In the afternoon a seal is shot in the tidal water lane, but, 

 as usual, it goes to the bottom. We now know through long 

 experience that it is really hopeless to spend ammunition on 

 this hunt, but for all that we cannot help trying, for there is a 

 bare possibility that some time we may succeed ; and this hope 

 carries the day every time the round, shiny heads with the big, 

 staring eyes appear above the surface of the water, scanning us 

 at a distance which is within range. But the fresh water pre- 

 vents the seals from floating. 



When we return to our tent hungry and despondent after 

 this last seal-hunt, some degree of calmness settles over us when 

 we openly admit to each other that the hope of any increase of 

 provisions must be considered dead. It is necessary to resign 

 ourselves to our fate. The only living animal whose tracks we 

 occasionally run across is the craven and dastardly Polar wolf, 

 which as a rule visits the ice-foot below the tent whilst we are 

 asleep to see if there may be something to steal. But the wolf 

 also suffers from the terrible poverty of the country. Hunting 

 on land is attempted, but Hendrik's Island appears to be the 

 border for the game ; there at any rate were hares. With 

 heavy hearts we take to the last way out, killing one of our 

 dogs ; this happens for the first time on our journey. Our 

 spare provisions for the glacier we dare not touch, and we can- 

 not face a hard walking journey entirely without food. 



To-day we certainly got something in our stomachs, but as 

 the dog had been tough in life, so also was its flesh tough to 

 masticate. And contrary to our usual custom we take our 

 meal without joy. 



Towards evening adversity once more sweeps over our 

 heads. Big storm-clouds come up from the south-west, drift- 

 ing at a hot pace in across the steep -mountains of the fjord ; 

 the barometer is falling, and to our sorrow the rain once more 



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