Letters from High Latitudes by Lord Dufferin
page 218 of 305 (71%)
page 218 of 305 (71%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
of ice ahead, and on port bow, i.e. to the westward--hope
we may be able to push through. In evening, ice gets thicker; we still hold on--fog comes on--ice getting thicker--wind freshens--we can get no farther--ice impass- able, no room to tack--struck the ice several times-- obliged to sail S. and W.--things look very shady." Sometimes we were on the point of despairing altogether, then a plausible opening would show itself as if leading towards the land, and we would be tempted to run down it until we found the field become so closely packed, that it was with great difficulty we could get the vessel round,--and only then at the expense of collisions, which made the little craft shiver from stem to stern. Then a fog would come on--so thick, you could almost cut it like a cheese, and thus render the sailing among the loose ice very critical indeed then it would fall dead calm, and leave us, hours together, muffled in mist, with no other employment than chess or hopscotch. It was during one of those intervals of quiet that I executed the annexed work of art, which is intended to represent Sigurdr, in the act of meditating a complicated gambit for the Doctor's benefit. About this period Wilson culminated. Ever since leaving Bear Island he had been keeping a carnival of grief in the pantry, until the cook became almost half-witted by reason of his Jeremiads. Yet I must not give you the impression that the poor fellow was the least wanting in PLUCK--far from it. Surely it requires the highest order |
|