An exceedingly persistent fog prevailed during the whole of the time we remained here, but at last on the 18th it lightened a little. We immediately weighed anchor and steamed along the western shore of Taimur Island. It is surrounded by a large number of islands that are not given on the map, and possibly Taimur Island itself is divided by sounds into several parts. During our voyage, however, the fog that was still very close hindered us from mapping, otherwise than in a very loose way, the islands, large and small, between and past which the Vega searched for a passage. So much we could in any case see, that the northern extremity of Taimur Island does not run so far north as the common maps show.
Ice we met with only in small quantity, and what we saw was very rotten fjord or river ice. I scarcely believe that in the course of the day we met with a single piece of ice large enough to flense a seal upon. We had as yet seen no true old drift-ice such as is to be met with north of Spitzbergen. In respect to the nature of the ice, there is a complete dissimilarity between the Kara Sea and the sea north and east of Spitzbergen. Another striking difference is the scarcity of warm-blooded animals which prevails in this region, hitherto exempted from all hunting. In the course of the day we had not seen a single bird—something which never before happened to me during a summer journey in the Arctic regions—and scarcely any seals.
On the 19th August we continued to sail and steam along the coast, mostly in a very close fog, which only at intervals dispersed so much that the lie of the coast could be made out. In order that they might not be separated, both vessels had often to signal to each other with the steam-whistle. The sea was bright as a mirror. Drift-ice was seen now and then, but only in small quantity and very rotten; but in the course of the day we steamed past an extensive unbroken ice-field, fast to the land, which occupied a bay on the west side of the Chelyuskin peninsula. The ice, of which it consisted, appeared in the mist immensely rough and high, although in fact it was nearly as rotten as that of which the narrow belts of ice were formed which we now and then met with out at sea.
The fog prevented all view far across the ice, and I already feared that the northernmost promontory of Asia would be so surrounded with ice that we could not land upon it. But soon a dark, ice-free cape peeped out of the mist in the north-east. A bay open to the north here cuts into the land, and in this bay both the vessels anchored on the 19th August at 6 o'clock p.m.
We had now reached a great goal, which for centuries had been the object of unsuccessful struggles. For the first time a vessel lay at anchor off the northernmost cape of the old world. No wonder then that the occurrence was celebrated by a display of flags and the firing of salutes, and, when we returned from our excursion on land, by festivities on board, by wine and toasts.
As on our arrival at the Yenisej, we were received here too by
a large Polar bear, who, even before the vessel anchored, was seen to go backwards and forwards on the beach, now and then turning his glance and his nose uneasily out to sea in order to investigate what remarkable guests had now for the first time come to his kingdom. A boat was put off to kill him. Brusewitz was the chosen shot; but on this occasion the bear took care not to form any closer acquaintance with our guns. The firing of the salute put him so thoroughly to flight, that he did not, as bears are wont, return the following day.
