HOLDING ON. 
69 
“The walrus are very numerous, approaching within 
twenty feet of us, shaking their grim wet fronts, and 
mowing with their tusks the sea-ripples. 
“August 19, Friday.—The sky looks sinister: a sort 
of scowl overhangs the blink under the great brow of 
clouds to the southward. The dovekies seem to dis¬ 
trust the weather, for they have forsaken the channel; 
but the walrus curvet around us in crowds. I have 
always heard that the close approach to land of these 
sphinx-faced monsters portends a storm. I was anxious 
to find a better shelter, and warped yesterday well 
down to the south end of the ledge; but I could not 
venture into the lloes outside, without risking the loss 
of my dearly-earned ground. It may prove a hard 
gale; but we must wait it out patiently. 
“August 20, Saturday, 31 p.m.— By Saturday morn¬ 
ing it blew a perfect hurricane. We had seen it coming, 
and were ready with three good hawsers out ahead, 
and all things snug on board. 
“Still it came on heavier and heavier, and the ice 
began to drive more wildly than I thought I had ever 
seen it. I had just turned in to warm and dry myself 
during a momentary lull, and was stretching myself 
out in my bunk, when I heard the sharp twanging 
snap of a cord. Our six-inch hawser had parted, and 
we were swinging by the two others; the gale roaring 
like a lion to the southward. 
“Half a minute more, and Hwang, twang!’ came a 
second report. I knew it was the whale-line by the 
shrillness of the ring. Our noble ten-inch manilla still 
