THE DRIFT. 
271 
by chasms, which seem mere ruptures in the contin- 
uous hill-line. Now, however, a trace is seen in the 
clouds indicative of distant land, higher, more mount- 
ainous, rolling, and broken. It may be the Cunning- 
hame Mountains toward Cape Warrender. 
“ The wind is quietly blowing from the west, and 
the misty haze gives us barely a vestige of daylight. 
'"’■December 28 , Saturday. From my very soul do I 
rejoice at the coming sun. Evidences not to be mis- 
taken convince me that the health of our crew, never 
resting upon a very sound basis, must sink under the 
continued influences of darkness and cold. The tem- 
perature and foulness of air in the between-deck Tar- 
tarus can not be amended, otherwise it would he my 
duty to urge a change. Between the smoke of lamps, 
the dry heat of stoves, and the fumes of the galley, all 
of them unintermitting, what wonder that we grow 
feeble. The short race of Christmas-day knocked up 
all our officers except Griffin. It pained me to see my 
friend Lovell, our strongest man, fainting with the ex- 
ertion. The symptoms of scurvy among the crew are 
still increasing, and becoming more general. Faces 
are growing pale ; strong men pant for breath upon 
ascending a ladder ; and an indolence akin to apathy 
seems to be creeping over us. I long for the light. 
Dear, dear sun, no wonder you are worshiped ! 
“ Our drift is still eastward, with a slow but unerr- 
ing progress. The high land mentioned yesterday 
took, in spite of the obscuring haze, a distinguishable 
outline. It is not more than eight miles off, and so 
high that, with its retiring flanks on either side, it can 
be none other than the projecting Cape Warrender. 
Its structure is unmistakably gneissoid. We have now 
left the limestones. 
