A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 311 



guillemots were still to be seen. They popped up 

 suddenly in front of us and flung themselves along the 

 surface, splashing ludicrously in their efforts to take 

 wing and escape the bows of the ship. The storm had 

 blown away all the pomatorhine skuas, but it brought 

 other bird guests to the Ragna. At noon a purple 

 sandpiper — a passenger from Spitzbergen or Franz- 

 Josef Land — came on board, and during the day we 

 saw both a snow-bunting and a mealy redpoll. Some 

 small wader also fluttered round for a while. I think 

 it may have been a dunlin. The sandpiper was tired, 

 and consequently very tame. I tried to photograph 

 it, but owing to an impending blizzard and the roll of 

 the ship, the result was not very successful. 



Hammerfest was our first port of call. We had 

 expected to reach it on 29th September, but the 

 installation of the wireless apparatus in the charthouse 

 behind the wheel had affected the working of the 

 compass. We were something out in our reckoning, 

 and as the coast was hidden by driving snowstorms, 

 we were not able to take our bearings, and had to lie 

 to for the night. 



For the first time we saw the aurora horealis in 

 great splendour. To the south the snow-clouds were 

 piled along the cliffs of North Cape. Half-way to the 

 zenith the wind tore them apart, and between their 

 ragged edges, the stars shone, polished with frost. But 

 in front of the stars, and lighting the whole firmament 

 and the sea with their soft shifting radiance, the spears 

 and shafts of the aurora spanned the sky. The broken 

 edges of the storm-clouds caught the glow, until it 



