Not far from the place where the seals disappeared, there is an opening free from ice; we decide, at all events, to wait some minutes on the brink of this pond. Two of the seals appear, and are at once greeted by us with bullets; the water is dyed red with blood over a large expanse, but the two animals, though wounded in the head, have strength enough left to dive under the ice, there to die. Baffled in this attempt, we return to our boat and continue our trip in the Smeerenburg in a south-easterly direction; we wish to reach the glaciers haunted by bears, but a thick fog surprises us on our way and stops our progress. We have no compass; in order to get back and avoid losing ourselves in the fog we are obliged to follow the coast-line, which considerably increases the distance to be covered. Objects are beginning to assume fantastic forms in the fog. At one part of the coast which I know perfectly well, having roamed over it several times, a rock of from sixteen to nineteen feet high appears to us a mountain of respectable dimensions; further on, the ice round the coast is about six feet above the water, and this looks to us like a colossal glacier; then we come across some eider-geese, which animals seem to assume awful dimensions, appearing to us about thirty-two feet high. Finally, becoming more and more subject to these curious effects of optical illusion, taking small blocks of ice for enormous icebergs, we imagine we can identify a walrus in a moving mass which appears to be the size of a small whale: we approach the animal, whose true nature we recognise when its size still appears to be thirteen or sixteen feet—it is a small bird of the size of a pigeon. After several hours of a dispiriting journey made in the damp and penetrating cold, tossed to and fro by the waves, which have become very rough, while the water, lashed by a contrary wind, is constantly dashing in our faces, we arrive near Virgo Bay at the very moment when the fog commences to clear, and with it these phantasmagoric effects gradually disappear. We feel as if we had awakened from a hideous nightmare, and are glad to see the sun once more, shedding its warm rays upon us. We return on board the _Svensksund_ at 6 a.m., after roaming about on the sea for nine hours, and just at the time when all on board are waking up. We celebrate St. John’s day as far as we can under the circumstances; at night a copious dinner is served, and we are much astonished at seeing such a variety of dishes set before us, although more than a month has elapsed since we last renewed supplies; this is a surprise reserved for us by Lieut. Celsing, who acts as steward on board our craft.