816 EXPEDITIONS OF PARRY AND ROSS— 1827-33. 



ticable — having been resolved upon, the carpenter proceeded to make 

 sledges out of the empty bread-casks, and the return march to Fury Beach 

 was commenced on October 4th. Meantime, Taylor, one af the mates, who 

 had been some time previously hurt by accident, was now so lame and ill 

 that he could neither walk on his crutches nor ride on the sledges, which 

 were continually overturning on the rough ice. Bow the party reached 

 Somerset House on the 7th October, Eoss himself seems unable to tell ; and 

 it is perhaps enough to know that they did reach home without fatal 

 casualty. An early and miserable winter now set in, and as the house had 

 not been prepared for severe weather, the men suffered much from cold. 

 Gradually, however, these castaways began to fortify their habitation against 

 the winter. Stores that had been left behind were brought in, a snow 

 wall four feet thick was built around the house, its roof was strengthened 

 and covered with snow, and an additional stove was set up inside. With 

 these contrivances they found that they could raise the heat of the interior 

 to 51°. At the close of October, Mr Thom, the purser, inspected and took 

 an account of the remaining provisions, and found that there were flour, 

 sugar, soups, peas, vegetables, pickles, and lemon-juice in abundance, while 

 of preserved meats there was a considerable quantity. On the 6th Novem- 

 ber the men were busily employed throwing water on' the snow walls of the 

 house and pointing them with wet snow, which, immediately freezing, formed 

 a coating of ice around the house which completely excluded the cold 

 winds. 



The cold of November and December was extreme ; and the only 

 amusement of the men was in trapping foxes, which they stewed or roasted, 

 and devoured with the greatest relish. A dish of "fox" was the only 

 variety of fresh meat obtainable. From November 1st, the whole party were 

 put upon half rations. On the 16th February C. Thomas, the carpenter, 

 who had been ill for some time, died. He was buried with the usual 

 solemnities of the Church, though, with the thermometer at 45° below zero, 

 " it was not easy to read the service out of doors." No other incident 

 marked the slowly creeping months. Everything was frost-bound, still, 

 immovable. Even the intellects of Eoss and his companions seem to have 

 suffered from a frost. The gallant old captain has nothing to relate, and he 

 bemoans and apologises for the uninteresting character of his journal. 

 " But," he pleads, " let him who reads to condemn what is meagre, have 

 some compassion on the writer, who had nothing better than this meagre- 

 ness, this repetition, this reiteration of the ever-resembling everyday dulness 

 to record, and, what was infinitely worse, to endure. I might have seen 

 more, it has been said : it may be ; but I saw only ice and snow, cloud and 

 drift and storm. Still I might have seen what I did not ; seen as a painter, 

 and felt like a poet ; and then, like painter and poet, have written. That 



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