Littleton and McGary Islands are literally swarming with birds, chiefly eider-ducks and burgomasters. There was no end to the number that could have been shot. The eggs have nearly all chicks in them, but fortunately we have already collected from the islands of the harbor a good supply. I found a flock of brant-geese, but could not discover their nests. The burgomaster-gulls are very numerous, but there were no ivory or other gulls, as I had hoped to find. They do not appear to come so far north.
PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE.
The open water has made still further inroads upon the ice. The islands are all now in the open sea, and it is but a few rods from the ship to its margin. The ice still clings tightly to the schooner, notwithstanding all our efforts to free her. In anticipation of a southerly swell setting into the harbor and breaking the ice, I have had the men at work for several days sawing a crack across the harbor from the vessel's fore-foot in the one direction, and from the stern-post in the other. The ice is now only 4½ feet thick.
The sails are all bent on, the hawsers are brought on board, our depot ashore is completed, and we are ready for any fortune. If blown with the ice out to sea, we are fully prepared.
Upon the hill-top of the north side of the harbor we have constructed a cairn, and under it I have deposited a brief record of the voyage. The Observatory I leave standing, and Kalutunah engages that the Esquimaux will not disturb it during my absence. All of them who have been here are so amply enriched that I think I ought to rely upon their good faith; yet the wood will be valuable to them, and these poor savages are not the only people who find it hard to resist temptation.
July 9th.
I have paid another visit to Chester Valley, and have had adieu to "Brother John." If the latter continues to grow until I come again, the stakes which I have stuck into its back will show some useful results. The valley was clothed in the full robes of summer. The green slopes were sparkling with flowers, and the ice had wholly disappeared from Alida Lake. Jensen shot some birds and tried hard to catch a deer, and while thus engaged I secured a yellow-winged butterfly, and—who would believe it?—a mosquito. And these I add to an entymological collection which already numbers ten moths, three spiders, two humble-bees, and two flies,—a pretty good proportion of the genus Insecta for this latitude, 78° 17´ N., longitude 73° W.
July 10th.
A heavy swell is setting into the harbor from the southwest. There has evidently been a strong southerly wind outside, although it has been blowing but lightly here. The ice has been breaking up through the day, and crack after crack is opening across the harbor. If it lasts twelve hours longer we will be liberated. It is a sort of crisis, and may be a dangerous one. The crashing of the ice is perfectly frightful. The schooner still holds fast in her cradle.
July 11th.