LONG AND WEARY MARCH.
The storm continued with unabated violence through the next day; and as the wind shrieked along the tall cliffs, carrying with it the drifting snow, I thought that I had scarcely ever seen or heard any thing more dismal. Unable to bear the chilliness of our imperfect shelter, (we had no means of making a snow-hut,) we pushed on, wading through deep drifts in addition to climbing the rocks and masses of ice, which, in going north, had everywhere more or less embarrassed our progress. The snow-drifts were often so deep that the dogs had much trouble in wading through them, and it was all that they could do to drag the now quite empty sledge. After a time they became so much exhausted that it was with the utmost difficulty that we could force them forward. The poor beasts fell in their tracks the moment the whip ceased to be applied. I had never before seen them so much broken. To halt was of little use, as rest, without food, would do harm rather than good; and as we had no shelter, and in the item of food were as badly off as the dogs, there was nothing for us to do but to hold on and get through to Jensen's camp, or perish in the storm. Fortunately, the wind was at our backs.
We kept on in our winding course through the pelting snow, and reached, finally, the north side of the bay above Jensen's camp; and then the hardest part of the journey was to come. The tramp across that bay comes back to me now as the vague recollection of some ugly dream. I scarcely remember how we got through it. I recall only an endless pounding of the dogs, who wanted to lie down with every step, the ceaseless wading, the endless crunch of the wearied feet breaking through the old snow-crust, the laborious climbing over hummocks, the pushing and lifting of the sledge,—and, through the blinding snow, I remember, at length, catching sight of the land and of hearing the cry of Jensen's dogs; and then of crawling up the ice-foot to his snow-hut. Through all these last hours, we were aware of a desire to halt and sleep; and it is fortunate for us that we did not lose consciousness of its dangers.
Without waiting to be fed, the dogs tumbled over on the snow the moment they were left to themselves; and we, dragging ourselves inside the hut which McDonald had made to shelter his sick companion, fell into a dead, dead sleep. Jensen noted the time. We had been twenty-two hours on the way, since leaving our shelter beneath the ice-cliff.
A LAST LOOK.
When we awoke, the storm had died away, and the sun was shining brightly. McDonald had looked after the dogs, and had ready for us a hot pot of coffee and an abundant breakfast, which thirty-four hours' fasting had prepared us fully to appreciate. Refreshed by this, I climbed the hill-side for a last look at the sea which we were leaving. The gale had told somewhat upon it. The dark water-sky to the northeast had followed us down the coast, the wind had acted upon the open places in the ice, and the little waves had eaten away their margins, and magnified them greatly, while many of the old floes had finally yielded to the immense pressure of the wind, and had moved in their winter moorings, tearing up the rotten ice about them. Several cracks had opened almost to the shore, and the "hinge" of the ice-foot had mainly tumbled away.
Jensen was better, but still moved with much difficulty and pain. By sitting on the sledge, however, he thought that he should be able to drive his dogs; so I gave Knorr our entire cargo. This cargo was now reduced to small dimensions, and consisted of nothing but our buffalo-skins, rifle, my instruments, and a few geological specimens. Our food was consumed to the last pound, and hence we must go supperless if we did not reach our next cache, where, if the bears should not have discovered it, we had one meal buried under a heap of stones.
June 5th.
I resume the narrative.
The march to the cache was a very tedious one, but we took it leisurely, and got through with it in sixteen hours, to find our food unmolested. The repeated halts to rest the dogs gave me abundant leisure to search among the limestone cliffs for further fossil remains, and my exertions were rewarded with a valuable collection. It is, perhaps, too much to say that they are fossils of the Silurian era, from a hasty examination; but I think it more than probable.