THE UNFORTUNATE MIRANDA 



The Miranda lay at the great dry dock at St. John's, and 

 night and day the hammers played merrily upon her. In 

 about a week she was ready to start northward again. But 

 it was a question as to whether we could proceed with 

 any degree of safety, and we were obliged, much to our 

 disappointment, to give up all thoughts of entering Melville 

 Bay, both on account of the delay we had experienced, and 

 the danger of getting nipped by pack-ice, for all the authori- 

 ties agreed that in such a contingency the Miranda would 

 be crushed like an egg-shell. After considerable delibera- 

 tion and consultation it was decided that it would be safe 

 for us to proceed to the southern coast of Greenland. Not- 

 withstanding the opinion of authorities, however, the peo- 

 ple in general looked upon us as little less than crazy for 

 attempting to go on at all, after our unfortunate experience. 

 A small party of excursionists were skirting about the 

 suburbs of St. John's one morning, when they came across 

 the lunatic asylum, and thought they would like to inspect 

 it. They rang the bell, and the door was opened by an 

 attendant, who said that visitors were not admitted upon 

 that day. 



" We come from the Miranda," said one of the party, 

 starting to explain. 



The door was then opened wide. 



" Walk right in," responded the attendant, " and make 

 yourselves at home." 



On July 28 the long suffering Miranda received her 

 final hammering and a start was made for South Greenland. 

 For three days and nights we bowled along, and then a fog 

 thick and dense fell around us. For days we drifted about 

 without anybody knowing exactly where we were, for no 

 accurate observations could be taken. Sometimes the fog 

 would lift, to reveal that we were surrounded by floe ice 

 and icebergs. We coasted along this ice in fog and rain 

 attempting to find a passage through it. The long 

 stretches of ice, the huge icebergs towering like mountains 

 above, and the roaring of the waves dashing against the 

 ice-floe, combined to make a scene both impressive and 

 awful. 



We caught our first sight of the Greenland coast on 

 the morning of August 3. The lofty peaks of Mount 



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