5. As we approached the promontory on the south of Crown-Prince Rudolf’s Land, we came upon innumerable icebergs, from one hundred to two hundred feet high, which made an incessant cracking and snapping sound in the sunshine. The Middendorf glacier, with an enormous sea-wall, ran towards the north to a great distance. Deep layers of snow and great rents in the sea-ice, the consequence of the falling-in of icebergs, filled the intervening spaces between them. Into these fissures we were continually falling, drenching our canvas boots and clothes with sea-water. But the aspect of these colossal fragments of glaciers engrossed us to such an extent, that we wandered a long time with unflagging interest among these pyramids, tables, and cliffs. It was only when I sent on Klotz to mark out by his footsteps a path by which we might ascend the Middendorf glacier, that we came to a more open region, and, all putting their strength to the work of dragging, we gained its summit, crossing in our progress many crevasses bridged over with snow. Three of these yawned across the lower part of the glacier, needing but a slight movement of the ice to detach them and transform them into icebergs. Further on, the glacier appeared smooth and free from crevasses, although its inclination amounted to several degrees. Towards the north it seemed as if it might be crossed without excessive exertion, if all took part in the work of dragging. But before we began this part of the day’s work we rested, and recruited ourselves with dinner, and setting up our little tent at about 400 paces above the edge of the glacier, we looked down with feelings of delight on its semi-circular terminal precipice and the gleaming host of icebergs which filled the indentations of the coast. While we were sitting in the tent Klotz made the fatal communication to me, that he was not the man he should be, that for some days his foot had swollen and ulcerated, so that he could walk only in shoes made of hide. However vexatious this mishap, there was nothing for it but to send him back to Hohenlohe Island. Laden with a sack and carrying a revolver, he set off, and soon disappeared from our eyes in the labyrinth of icebergs beneath us.

6. We had meanwhile again packed the sledge, harnessed the dogs, and fastened the traces round us, when, just as we were setting off, the snow gave way beneath the sledge, and down fell Zaninovich, the dogs, and the sledge, and from an unknown depth I heard a man’s voice mingled with the howling of dogs. All this was the impression of a moment, while I felt myself dragged backwards by the rope. Staggering back, and seeing the dark abyss beneath me, I could not doubt that I should be precipitated into it the next instant. A wonderful providence arrested the fall of the sledge; at a depth of about thirty feet it stuck fast between the sides of the crevasse, just as I was being dragged to the edge of the abyss by its weight. The sledge having jammed itself in, I lay on my stomach close to the awful brink, the rope which attached me to the sledge tightly strained, and cutting deep into the snow. The situation was all the more dreadful as I, the only person present accustomed to the dangers of glaciers, lay there unable to stir. When I cried down to Zaninovich that I would cut the rope, he implored me not to do it, for if I did, the sledge would turn over, and he would be killed. For a time I lay quiet, considering what was to be done. By and by it flashed into my memory, how I and my guide had once fallen down a wall of ice in the Ortler Mountains, 800 feet high, and had escaped. This inspired me with confidence to venture on a rescue, desperate as it seemed under the circumstances. Orel had now come up, and although he had never been on a glacier before, this gallant officer dauntlessly advanced to the edge of the crevasse, and, laying himself on his stomach, looked down into the abyss, and cried to me, “Zaninovich is lying on a ledge of snow in the crevasse, with precipices all round him, and the dogs are still attached to the traces of the sledge, which has stuck fast.” I called to him to throw me his knife, which he did with such dexterity, that I was able to lay hold of it without difficulty; and as the only means of rescue, I severed the trace which was fastened round my waist. The sledge made a short turn, and then stuck fast again. I immediately sprang to my feet, drew off my canvas boots, and sprang over the crevasse, which was about ten feet broad. I now caught sight of Zaninovich and the dogs, and shouted to him, that I would run back to Hohenlohe Island to fetch men and ropes for his rescue, and that rescued he would be, if he could contrive for four hours to keep himself from being frozen. I heard his answer: “Fate, Signore, fate pure!” and then Orel and I disappeared. Heedless of the crevasses which lay in our path, or of the bears which might attack us, we ran down the glacier back to Cape Schrötter, six miles off. Only one thought possessed us—the rescue of Zaninovich, the jewel and pride of our party, and the recovery of our invaluable store of provisions, and of the book containing our journals, which, if lost, could never be replaced. But even apart from my personal feeling for Zaninovich, I keenly felt the reproaches to which I should be exposed of incautious travelling on glaciers; and it gave me no comfort to think that my previous experiences in this kind of travelling over the glaciers of Greenland appeared to justify my proceedings. Stung with these reflections, I pressed on at the top of my speed, leaving Orel far behind me. Bathed in perspiration, I threw off my bird-skin garments, my boots, my gloves, and my shawl, and ran in my stockings through the deep snow. After passing the labyrinth of icebergs I saw the rocky pyramid of Cape Schrötter before me in the distance. The success of my venture depended on the weather. If snow-driving should set in, and footprints should be obliterated, it would be impossible to find Hohenlohe Island. All around me it was fearfully lonely. Encompassed by glaciers, I was absolutely alone. At last I saw Klotz emerge from behind an iceberg at some distance off, and though I continued to shout his name till I almost reached him, I failed to rouse him from his usual reverie. When at last he saw me breathlessly pushing on, scarcely clothed, and constantly calling, his sack slipped from his back, and he stared at me as if he had lost his senses. When the hardy son of the mountains came to understand that Zaninovich with the sledge was buried in the crevasse, he began to weep, in his simplicity of heart taking the blame of what had happened on himself. He was so agitated and disturbed, that I made him promise that he would do himself no mischief, and then, leaving him to his moody silence, I ran on again towards the island. It seemed as if I should never reach Cape Schrötter; with head bent down I trudged on, counting my steps through the deep snow; when I raised it again, after a little time, it was always the same black spot that I saw on the distant horizon. At last I came near it, saw the tent, saw some dark spots creep out of it, saw them gather together, and then run down the snow-slope. These were the friends we had left behind. A few words of explanation, with an exhortation to abstain from idle lamentation, were enough. They at once detached a second rope from the large sledge, and got hold of a long tent-pole. Meantime I had rushed upon the cooking-machine, quickly melted a little snow to quench my raging thirst, and then we all set off again—Haller, Sussich, Lukinovich, and myself—to the Middendorf glacier. Tent and provisions were left unwatched; we ran back for three hours and a half; fears for Zaninovich gave such wings to my steps, that my companions were scarcely able to keep up with me. Ever and anon, I had to stop to drink some rum. At the outset we met Orel, and rather later Klotz, both making for Cape Schrötter, Klotz to remain behind there, and Orel to return with us at once to Middendorf glacier. When we came among the icebergs under Cape Habermann I picked up, one by one, the clothes I had thrown away. Reaching the glacier, we tied ourselves together with a rope. Going before the rest, I approached with beating heart the place, where the sledge had disappeared four hours and a half ago. A dark abyss yawned before us; not a sound issued from its depths, not even when I lay on the ground and shouted. At last I heard the whining of a dog, and then an unintelligible answer from Zaninovich. Haller was quickly let down by a rope; he found him still living, but almost frozen, on a ledge of snow forty feet down the crevasse. Fastening himself and Zaninovich to the rope, they were drawn up after great exertion. A storm of greetings saluted Zaninovich, stiff and speechless though he was, when he appeared on the surface of the glacier. I need not add that we gave him some rum to stimulate his vital energies. It was a noble proof how duty and discipline assert themselves, even in such situations, that the first word of this sailor, saved from being frozen to death, was not a complaint, but thanks, accompanied with a request that I would pardon him if he, in order to save himself from being frozen, had ventured to drink a portion of the rum, which had fallen down in its case with the sledge to his ledge of snow. Haller again descended, and fastened the dogs to the rope. The clever animals had freed themselves from their traces in some inexplicable way, and had sprung to a narrow ledge, where Haller found them, close to where Zaninovich had lain. It was astonishing how quickly they discerned the danger of the position, and how great was their confidence in us. They had slept the whole time, as Zaninovich afterwards told us, and he had carefully avoided touching them, lest they should fall down deeper into the abyss. We drew them up with some difficulty, and they gave expression to their joy, first by rolling themselves vigorously in the snow, and then by licking our hands. We then raised Haller by the rope some ten feet higher than the ledge on which Zaninovich had lain, so that he might be able to cut the ropes which fastened the loading of the firmly wedged-in sledge. At this moment Orel arrived, and with his help we raised one by one the articles with which the sledge was loaded. It was ten o’clock before we were convinced that we had lost nothing of any importance in the crevasse.

7. We now left the glacier and the icebergs, and by midnight had reached Cape Habermann. Here we slept, and the dogs with us, as uncomfortably as possible. On the morning of the 11th of April (the thermometer marking 3° F.), we started at an hour when we would much rather have continued to sleep. Our thirst was so great that we felt ourselves equal to drinking up a stream. Haller, Sussich, Lukinovich had during the night returned to Cape Schrötter. Before they started Haller earnestly besought me to come back as soon as possible; for the recent event, he said, had not been without its disquieting effects on the men. On the whole, we might congratulate ourselves on being able to continue our journey, without having received any serious damage, though no longer over the treacherous glacier.

8. A sharp turn to the left brought us to the west coast of Crown-Prince Rudolf’s Land, along which we pursued our route northwards. When we reached Cape Brorock, where by an observation we found our latitude at noon to be 81° 45′, the weather became wonderfully bright, and the warm sunlight lay on the broken summits of the Dolerite mountains, which, though covered with gleaming ice, were free from snow. To the north-west we saw at first nothing but ice up to the horizon; even with the telescope of the theodolite I could not decide for the existence of land, which Orel’s sharp eye discovered in the far distance. In the Arctic regions, it often happens that banks of fog on the horizon assume the character of distant ranges, for the small height to which these banks rise in the cold air causes them to be very sharply defined. It is very common also to make the same mistake in the case of mists arising from the waste water of enormous glaciers. We marched on northward close under the land, and for the first time over smooth undulating ice, in high spirits at the increasing grandeur of the scenery and at the happy issue of our adventure of yesterday. Thirst compelled us frequently to halt in order to liquefy snow;[47] sometimes we melted it as we marched along, and our sledge with smoke curling up from the cooking-machine then resembled a small steamer.

9. By and by we came to more snow, and the ice, through which many fissures ran, became gradually thinner, but when we reached the imposing headland, which we called Cape Auk, the ice lay in forced-up barriers. A strange change had come over the aspect of nature. A dark water-sky appeared in the north, and heavy mists rolled down to the steep promontories of Karl Alexander Land; the temperature rose to 10° F.,[48] our track became moist, the snow-drifts collapsed under us with a loud noise, and if we had previously been surprised with the flight of birds from the north, we now found all the rocky precipices of Rudolf’s Land covered with thousands of auks and divers. Enormous flocks of birds flew up and filled the air, and the whole region seemed alive with their incessant whirring. We met everywhere with traces of bears and foxes. Seals lay on the ice, but sprang into the water before we got within shot of them. But notwithstanding these signs of a richer animal life, we should not be justified in inferring, from what we saw in a single locality, that life increases as we move northwards. It was a venial exaggeration, if amid such impressions we pronounced for the nearness of an open Polar sea, and without doubt all adherents of this opinion, had they come with us to this point and no further, would have found in these signs fresh grounds to support their belief. In enumerating these observations, I am conscious what attractions they must have for every one who still leans to the opinion that an open ocean will be found at the Pole; subsequent experience, however, will show how little is their value in support of this antiquated hypothesis.

10. Our track was now very unsafe; it was only the icebergs which seemed to keep the ice in the bays. A strong east wind would certainly have broken it up and cut off our return, at least with the sledge. There were no longer the connected floes of winter, but young ice only, covered with saline efflorescence, dangerously pliable, and strewn over with the remains of recent pressures. The ice was broken through in many places by the holes of seals. It was expedient therefore to tie ourselves together with a long rope, and each of us, as he took his turn in leading, constantly sounded the ice. Passing by Cape Auk, which resembled a gigantic aviary, we followed the line of Teplitz Bay, into which a stream of glaciers, descending from the high mountains in the interior, discharged itself. Icebergs lay along the terminal glacier wall which formed its shore. Ascending one of these masses, we found granite erratics on its surface and saw the open sea stretching far to the west. There seemed to be ice only on the extreme horizon. As the ice-sheet over which our track lay became thinner and more pliable, and constantly threatened to give way under us, the height and length of its piled-up barriers increased also, and because the high glacier walls made it impossible to travel over the land, we had no other resource than to open up a track through the hummocky ice by pick and shovel. At last even this expedient failed to help us; our sledge, constantly damaged, and as constantly repaired, had to be unloaded, the dogs unharnessed, and everything transported separately. Evening had now arrived; ahead of us lay the two rock-towers, which we called Cape Säulen, and open coast-water here began.

11. Beautiful and sublime was this far-off world. From a height we looked over a dark “ice-hole,” studded with icebergs like pearls, and over these lay heavy clouds through which the sunbeams fell on the gleaming water. Right over the true sun shone a second, though somewhat duller sun; the icebergs of Crown-Prince Rudolf’s Land, appearing enormously high, sailed through the still region amid rolling mist and surrounded by vast flocks of birds. Close under Cape Säulen (the Cape of Columns) we came upon the steep edge of the glaciers and dragged up our baggage with a long rope. While Orel got ready our encampment for the night in the fissure of a glacier, and completed as usual his meteorological observations and soundings, I ascended a height to reconnoitre our track for the next day. The sun was setting amid a scene of majestic wildness; its golden rays shot through dark banks of mist and a gentle wind, playing over the “ice-hole,” formed ever-widening circles on its mirror-like surface. Land was no longer visible towards the north, it was covered with a dense “water-sky.” A bird flew close past me; at first I took it for a ptarmigan, but it was probably a snipe. It ought to be remarked that during the two days which we spent near this “ice-hole” we never once saw a whale. As soon as with half-closed eyes we had eaten our supper, we fell fast asleep, for our longing to sleep was yet greater than our exhaustion and our thirst. The dogs availed themselves of this opportunity to devour several pounds of bear’s flesh and empty a tin of condensed milk, which, however, did not prevent them from barking impudently the next morning for more.

12. The 12th of April was the last day of advance in a northerly direction. Though the weather was not clear, yet it was clearer than it had been for some time. When we started we buried our baggage in the fissure of the glacier where we had slept, in order to protect it from bears, which roamed about on all sides. Our march lay over snowy slopes to the summits of the coast range—from 1,000 to 3,000 feet high. The masses of mist lying on the horizon had retreated before the rays of the morning sun, and all the region with its lines of ice-forms was bathed in light; and southward, open water stretched to the shores of Cape Felder. As we followed this lofty coast range, mountains with glaciers sloping down their sides towards the sea seemed to rise before us. An hour before noon we reached a rocky promontory 1,200 feet high, afterwards called Cape Germania. Here we rested, and from a meridian observation we found our latitude to be 81° 57′. Following the coast as it trended towards the north-east, we came on a glacier with a steep inclination and frequent crevasses, which compelled us to leave the sledge behind before we attempted to cross it. But the increasing insecurity of our track over fissures, our want of provisions, and the certainty that since noon we had reached 82° 5′ N. L. by a march of five hours, at last brought our advance northward to a close. With a boat we might certainly have gone some miles further.

13. We now stood on a promontory about 1,000 feet high, which I named Cape Fligely, as a small mark of respect and gratitude towards a man of great distinction in geographical science. Rudolf’s Land still stretched in a north-easterly direction towards a cape—Cape Sherard Osborne—though it was impossible to determine its further course and connection. The view we had from this height was of great importance in relation to the question of an open Polar sea. Open water there was of considerable extent and in very high latitudes: of this there could be no question. But what was its character? From the height on which we stood we could survey its extent. Our expectations had not been sanguine, but moderate though they were, they proved to be exaggerated. No open sea was there, but a “Polynia” surrounded by old ice, within which lay masses of younger ice. This open space of water had arisen from the action of the long prevalent E.N.E. winds. But of more immediate interest than the question of an open Polar sea was the aspect of blue mountain-ranges lying in the distant north, indicating masses of land, which Orel had partially seen the day before, and which now lay before us with their outlines more defined. These we called King Oscar Land and Petermann Land; the mountainous extremity on the west of the latter lay beyond the 83rd degree of north latitude. This promontory I have called Cape Vienna, in testimony of the interest which Austria’s capital has ever shown in geographical science, and in gratitude for the sympathy with which she followed our wanderings, and finally rewarded our humble merits.

14. Proudly we planted the Austro-Hungarian flag for the first time in the high North, our conscience telling us that we had carried it as far as our resources permitted. It was no act asserting a right of possession in the name of a nation, as when Albuquerque or Van Diemen unfurled the standards of their country on foreign soil, yet we had won this cold, stiff, frozen land with no less difficulty than these discoverers had gained those paradises. It was a sore trial to feel our inability to visit the lands lying before us, but withal we were impressed with the conviction that this day was the most important of our lives, and ever since the memory of it has recurred unbidden to my recollection.

15. The Dolerite of this region was of a very coarse-grained character, and its rocks rose in terraces from out of the white mantle of snow; Umbilicaria arctica, Cetaria nivalis, and Rhyzocarpon geographicum were the sole ornaments of its scanty vegetation. The following document we inclosed in a bottle and deposited in a cleft of rock:—

“Some members of the Austro-Hungarian North Pole Expedition have here reached their highest point in 82·5° N. L., after a march of seventeen days from the ship, lying inclosed in ice in 79° 51′ N. L. They observed open water of no great extent along the coast, bordered by ice, reaching in a north and north-westerly direction to masses of land, whose mean distance from this highest point might be from sixty to seventy miles, but whose connection it was impossible to determine. After their return to the ship, it is the intention of the whole crew to leave this land and return home. The hopeless condition of the ship and the numerous cases of sickness constrain them to this step.

“Cape Fligely, April 12th, 1874.

“(Signed)

• “Antonio Zaninovich, Seaman.
• “Edward Orel, Midshipman,
• “Julius Payer, Commander.”

CHAPTER IX.
THE RETURN TO THE SHIP.

1. This done, our thoughts now turned to the ship, between which and ourselves lay 160 miles. But, the Tegetthoff—did she lie still where we had left her, or had she drifted away? Fastened together by a rope, we began our return by re-crossing the glaciers, and on reaching the stores we had deposited at Cape Germania, the first thing we did was to prepare some water, for the beverage we had taken with us in an india-rubber bottle, made of coffee, rum, and extract of meat, had only aggravated thirst, without adding to our strength. It was late in the evening when we reached our night-encampment near Säulen Cap (Cape Columns), in a state of great exhaustion, cheered and alleviated by the thought of our success. The utter loneliness of our position could not suppress the satisfaction we felt. After digging up our still untouched stores, we went to rest for three hours. Longer we dared not sleep; the least breeze might break up the ice and drive it out of the bight on the north of Cape Auk. The insecurity of our position therefore impelled us to make a very early start on the morning of the 13th of April, with the thermometer at 12° F. As we started, we awoke also to the extreme difficulties of the return route, difficulties which the excitement of our advance had made light of. Orel, suffering from snow-blindness, marched along with closed eyes, and want of sleep now began to tell on us all. Even our dogs were all worn out, and whenever a halt was made they lay down exhausted in the snow. The sledge had constantly to be unloaded and reloaded, and its fractures repaired. The surface of the smooth ice, encumbered by the snow-slush which had accumulated on it, rendered our progress very burdensome. The dull dreary weather, however, did not prevent the sea-birds from gathering and wheeling around us in enormous flocks. During our noon-day halt, utterly distraught, I cooked our dinner with sea-water; not one of us could touch it. Our road through wastes of snow from Cape Brorock to Cape Schrötter, seemed as if it would never end. However rapidly we advanced, constantly counting our steps as we went along, that Cape remained for hours the same dark spot on the gloomy and snowy horizon. It was evening before we approached it, and as we came within 300 paces of his frontier, we were received and welcomed by ambassadors from Haller. It was curious and also characteristic to observe how a few days without active employment and without discipline had demoralised our old companions; the party we left behind were scarcely recognisable. Blackened by the oil used in cooking, wasted with diarrhœa, these men crept out of their tent listlessly to greet us on our arrival; a few more days would have sufficed to prostrate them with sickness. Yet they had strictly followed the directions I had given them, and had used with moderation their stock of provisions. As I have already mentioned, I had furnished them, before I started on my expedition northward, with all the means of ascertaining their position by observations, and of enabling them to begin their return to the ship, in the event of my failing to appear at the end of fifteen days; but when I now asked them what direction they would have taken in order to reach the Tegetthoff, to my horror they pointed, not to Austria, but to Rawlinson Sound![49]

2. The observations of temperature which Haller furnished me with, scrawled in hieroglyphics on a peas-sausage case, showed a difference of about 4½° in favour of the extreme north, and this difference was still more marked, when we came to compare the readings which had been recorded on board ship. The open water to the north was doubtless the cause of this. But the same influence extended southward, and as the snow-drifts over which we walked broke under us with a dull, heavy sound, we began to fear lest the season when the snow suddenly thaws and the land-ice breaks up had begun, and that our return would be a matter of extreme difficulty. If there had been nothing else, this would have sufficed to quicken our movements, but to this was added the discovery that our stock of provisions, independent of depôts, would last only ten days more. By ridding ourselves of all but absolutely necessary baggage, and leaving behind our common sleeping bag and the tent for the dogs, we lightened our sledge, so as to enable us to extend our day’s march considerably.

3. On the 14th of April, the thermometer marking 4° F., we left Hohenlohe Island in very bad weather, and made for the Coburg Islands, which were scarcely visible. Our route ran between hummocks, which gave the dogs an opportunity they were not slow to use, of taking it easy after their recent exertions. It had been our intention that the large sledge should keep the same line which we had taken in our journey northward, while I with the dog-sledge should visit places to the right and left. This plan, however, was found unfeasible; for in addition to the difficulties and impediments incident to the march, we had an accumulation of evils to contend with. Klotz’s foot had become much worse, and all those who had been left behind at Cape Schrötter were more or less snow-blind, though hitherto our party had suffered little from eye diseases. It was surprising that our dogs did not suffer from this affection, close as they were to the glare of the snow and without any protection against it. Snow-blindness occurs even in Alpine regions. The severity of the attack depends on the character of the snow; the harder and smoother it is, the greater is the reflection and the danger of inflammation; the retina of the eye is at last injured by the dazzling whiteness of the snow. Various remedies have been employed to mitigate this evil; even the rough-and-ready one of throwing snuff into the eyes has been tried. In Europe, snow-blindness is cured in a day or two by wet applications, but in the low temperatures of the high North such a remedy cannot be applied; poultices are hardly possible in the tent, and a simple bandage worn during the march is no preservative against the constant burning sensations common to this affection. It is clear that the range of remedies during a sledge expedition must be very limited. The crew of Sir James Clark Ross suffered in an unusual manner from this cause in their land expeditions. Richardson and Nordenskjöld dropped a weak tincture of opium twice a day into the eye, and in about twenty-four hours the patient recovered, provided he were not compelled to march. Parry on board ship used a solution of sugar of lead and cold water, applied constantly for three or four days—a somewhat questionable remedy, as it is apt to injure the cornea of the eye. Another mode of treatment, which should take effect in six hours, is unhappily not available in a North Pole expedition, as it requires white of egg, sugar, and camphor, beaten up till it becomes frothy, and laid as a compress on the eye. Some tribes of North America use the steam of hot water, the Creek Indians a decoction from the resinous buds of the Tacamahac—an application which causes much suffering. The only real preservative is the constant use of coloured spectacles, the metal mountings of which should be covered with wool, on account of the cold. The ordinary network at the side should be avoided, as this dims the glasses even when the cold is not considerable; whereas open spectacles are only exposed to this inconvenience at very low degrees of temperature, and can easily be cleared by the hand.

4. But to return to our journey. It was evening when the Coburg Islands (81° 35′ N. L.) were reached. The Dolerite rock of this small cluster of islands was of a remarkably coarse-grained crystalline texture. We had frequently come across the traces of bears and foxes during the march of this day, though we actually saw neither bear nor fox. On the 15th of April, after a severe march, we got clear of the region of ice-hummocks, and continued our southerly course with our sledge-sail before the wind. We encountered a bear this day, which, being allowed to approach within the distance of thirty paces, fell dead under our fire. In a few minutes we loaded the sledge with fresh meat, and again pursued our journey. But excessive exertion, the want of sleep, and the exclusive use of a meat diet, were meanwhile telling their tale of reduced strength, though our appetites were great almost beyond belief. The excessive consumption of animal food[50] without bread-stuff excited hunger and lowered our muscular power, while it irritated our nervous system. Our supply of bark was rapidly decreasing, and Haller, Sussich, and Lukinovich, who could not endure bear-flesh, were often attacked with giddiness during the march, and placed on “half-diet.” In the following week our miseries were intensified by insufficiency of sleep; in fact, we could not spare time to sleep it out. Hence the afternoon hours of the march were especially oppressive, and though the sledge with its load was positively lighter, our strength to drag it had diminished in still greater measure. It would be a great mistake to imagine that exercise of itself, without necessary rest, increases the capacity of marching. The loss of strength is almost suddenly experienced, especially in return journeys, when the excitement of discovery has passed away, and nothing is left but the animal-like employment of dragging.

5. Our course lay under Andrée Island; we crossed over the flat ice-dome of Rainer Island, and on the west saw Back’s Inlet filled with many icebergs. From this elevation we once more beheld the snowy ranges of Crown-Prince Rudolf’s Land in the far distance, which soon, however, disappeared in an ocean of mist, whose white waves rolled over the intervening ice-levels. As we again descended to the icy surface of the sea, to our great astonishment we fell into a hole covered over with snow, and got thoroughly wet, and, after much wandering about, we found, towards evening, a dry place (81° 20′ N. L.) on which to pitch our tent. On the 16th of April we found our latitude by an observation taken at noon to be 81° 12′, and when we reached, in the evening, a point four miles to the north of Cape Hellwald, those whose appetite had failed them could not march a step further.

6. On the 17th of April, Orel, with the large sledge, continued the march southwards, while I went on with the dog-sledge, in order to ascend Cape Hellwald. The temperature had fallen in the morning to -18° F., and the outlines of the icebergs vibrated and undulated under the influence of refraction. Ice-hummocks, on the distant horizon, insignificant in size, were magnified into gigantic proportions; then again many of these phantasmagoria seemed to form a long line, which broke up at the next step forward. Unyoking the dogs on the shore of the island, I left the sledge behind, and climbed the steep sides of a precipice of clay-slate, with its laminæ firmly frozen into a mass, and reached the summit of the lofty promontory—Cape Hellwald—about 2,200 feet above the level of the sea. On the tops of its basaltic columns great flocks of divers congregated, which flew round me without fear as I set up my theodolite, and then settled close to me on the snow. I might have killed half-a-dozen of them at a single shot. By and by, these birds, scared by the appearance of the dogs, who soon joined me, took refuge on some inaccessible rocks, but were not in the least disturbed when I fired at them. My lofty point of view enabled me to have a general survey of the mountainous country lying on the north-west, and to ascertain that I stood on an island separated from lands on the west by Sternek Fiord. Meantime Orel, far below me, was moving on with the sledge, but so great is the advantage of dog-sledging, that I descended and arrived at the same time as he did at Cape Easter. By an observation taken at noon we found our latitude to be 81°. In the afternoon the dogs in their own sledge dragged half of our baggage, and notwithstanding got on more quickly than we did with the large sledge. Henceforward the order of the day was fasting, more or less absolute; for our stock of provisions consisted of bread and bear’s flesh for two days and a half, and the dogs could no longer be favoured as they had been.

7. At a few miles’ distance there rose before us the rocky cones of Wiener Neustadt Island, with large glaciers descending their sides. As it was beyond a doubt that the ascent of one of these conical heights would open up an extensive prospect, I fixed on the imposing Cape Tyrol as the most promising for an ascent. Accordingly, on the 18th of April Haller and I started, and after a toilsome march over glaciers, reached its dark, weather-worn summit, 3,000 feet above the level of the sea. Even here we perceived the traces of excrements of the fox, from whose craft the birds were protected by the inaccessibility of the places where they bred. Though we had cut up some bullets into slugs, we refrained from shooting at the auks and divers perched on the rocks, as we saw that our game could not be bagged even if we killed them. Over our heads was spread the bright sky, below us a very sea of mist, in which, though invisible to us, Orel was wending his way towards the south. The distant glacier wastes of Wilczek Land towered aloft on the east; a cloudy shade separated the heights of the peninsula of La Roncière from the colourless icy wastes of Lindemann Bay, and beyond the picturesque Collinson Fiord there seemed to be a maze of inlets and bights, bare rocks and broad table-lands. We bitterly deplored that the necessity of returning to the ship prevented us from penetrating into this labyrinth of mountains and sounds.

8. In our descent we passed over three basaltic terraces, and came upon a rocky ledge covered with a thick carpet of Usnea melaxantha—a fresh example of the great capability of lichens to bear extremes of temperature, the great cold of winter and the burning heat of the rock in summer. The mists now began to rise, and for the first time a greenish landscape without snow gleamed out of the depth, on which lay the warm glow of the sun. The scenery seemed to belong to the Alps, and not the 81st degree of North Latitude. The contrast became the more striking, when the mists rolled away and unveiled the icebergs and the ice-filled sound. When we reached these green mountain slopes we found ourselves among grasses, the lower stalks of which were already beginning to be green; the few flowering plants (Saxifraga oppositifolia, Silene acaulis, Papaver nudicale) were clustered together in dense masses. We were now able to form some conception of what summer might be here. Countless streams issuing from the snow would force these spots to put on the livery of summer, and rapid torrents would precipitate themselves down gorges of snow and rock; but at present all was stiff and stark, save that stunted green herbage seemed to show that we were in the fancied paradise of Franz-Josef Land, though when compared even with other Arctic lands it was but a scene of desolation. Closer to the shore above the level of the sea, in a belt of yellow sandstone, we found much lignite firmly frozen in the ground, resembling drift-wood a century old.

9. The search for our companions was for some time fruitless; and a driving snow might have separated us from them for ever. At last, however, we found them gathered together in the tent near Forbes’ Glacier, in about 80° 58′ N. L., and as the party had been without tobacco for a fortnight, they greeted Haller’s collection of lichens as a welcome substitute.

10. During the last few days the cold had sensibly increased, and we therefore determined to sleep during the day, and to walk during the night. Our march in the night of April 18 was a memorable one to us. We were trudging along in the face of a strong south-wester—which was extremely distressing to our highly sensitive frozen noses—and striving to protect the soles of our feet by the rapidity of our movement from being frost-bitten. After succeeding to a certain extent in this, we began to find the snow very deep, and so soft that we sank in at every step. This grew worse and worse; water rose in the deeper layers of snow and penetrated our boots, and as this could not be explained by the state of the temperature, we had to step with distrust and hesitation, in constant fear of unseen depths. At first we believed that the water arose from streams flowing from underneath the glaciers, or from the movement of these glaciers breaking up the surface of the ice. Hence we kept at a distance from their terminal walls. But that the ice-sheet of the sea itself had broken up, that unseen fissures surrounded us, and that the water under the snow was nothing but the water of the sea forcing its way in—of this we had not the least conception, till the sudden immersion of the leader of the party left no doubt about the matter. Once Haller would have utterly disappeared unless he had been quickly rescued. As we picked our way along, even with a long pole we found every now and then no bottom. Klotz now took the lead with a long “alpenstock,” guiding us with the greatest dexterity among these fissures, though often himself falling in. Greatly did we rejoice when we reached unbroken footing. Some of the party on this occasion were frost-bitten in the feet, but we could do little more for them than rub their feet with snow and improve as we could their foot-covering. The sun was now visible at midnight, and the mountains of Markham Sound were tinged with rosy light.

11. Ahead of us in the south lay a dark water-sky, while the land on either side was veiled in mist and fog. We tried to persuade ourselves that this phenomenon might be explained otherwise than by open water. Soon, however, we heard the unambiguous sound of ice-pressure and of the beating of the surf at no great distance, and when we went to rest, in 80° 36′ N. L., it was with the feeling that we needed new strength to meet the dangers which unquestionably awaited us. We slept soundly for some hours in spite of all our anxious fears, till we were aroused by the increasing noise. We now advanced along the old sledge-track upon which we had fallen. Orel and I went first, and after we had gone a few hundred paces the truth burst upon us: we saw the sea ahead of us and no white edge beyond. Walls of forced-up ice surrounded this water, which, stirred by a heavy wind, threw up crested waves; the spray of its surf dashed itself for a distance of thirty yards over the icy shore. Forthwith ascending an iceberg, we looked over the dark waste of water, in which the icebergs, under which we had passed a month before, were now floating; the more distant of them stood out against the arch of light on the horizon, and those nearer to us shone with a dazzling brilliancy under the dark water-sky. That on which lay our depôt of provisions was floating in the midst of them; and here we were, without a boat, almost without provisions, and fifty-five miles distant from the ship! A strong current was running southwards at the rate of three or four miles an hour; fragments of ice were driving before the wind, as if they meant to delight us by their movements, and as if there were no change for the worse to a handful of men, who stood in reality before an impassable abyss.

12. But what were we to do; what direction were we to follow? If we killed and ate our dogs and broke up our sledge to find wood to melt the snow, we might live for eight days longer. In this case we must ourselves carry our baggage. But the most important question was, Whither? In what direction did the ice lie still unbroken? Did the land on the west afford a connected route to the ship? Did the sea before us communicate further south with the sea where the Tegetthoff lay? There was but one alternative—escape by land and over land; and because open water could be traced to the north-west beyond the bare reefs of the Hayes Islands, and heavy clouds over Markham Sound seemed to indicate that the ice had broken up in it also, I decided to try the way over the glaciers of Wilczek Land. Everything depended on the unbroken state of the ice in the southern parts of Austria Sound. Dejected as I was, I finished my sketch of this dreadful scene, while Orel went back to caution the men against venturing on the young ice and to tell them to keep to the old ice under the land. While the men were struggling with the great sledge in the snow, I descended from my higher point of view, and, soaked through by the surf, went along the ice-strand in a south-easterly direction towards Wilczek Land. The others followed, and though we came on many fissures merely covered with snow, we yet reached terra firma in safety, Orel skilfully guiding the movements of the sledge according to the signs agreed on.