As there were now 67 mouths to feed instead of 24, the only course for the commander to pursue was to cut down the daily rations by one-third, and this he accordingly proceeded to do. The men took the misfortune in a spirit of praiseworthy resignation, but their fortitude was strongly tried a few days later when the news was sprung upon them that six walrus-vessels had been frozen in at Point Grey and Cape Welcome, that their crews numbered 58, and that, with care and economy, their provisions might be made to last till December 1, after which they would have to ask Nordenskiöld to help them. It need hardly be said that the explorer was not overjoyed at the prospect, more especially as with so many to feed and so little to eat it was morally certain that they would all starve to death before the end of the winter. Fortunately, however, he knew that a Swedish settlement at Cape Thörsden, some 200 miles away, had been abandoned that year, and that a good store of provisions had been left behind. He accordingly bargained with the hunters that some of their party should repair thither, and that he would support the rest to the best of his ability when their own stock of provisions had run out. With a view to economising his own so far as possible he tried the experiment of converting his now useless reindeer moss into bread. The recipe is not one to be commended to the notice of epicures in search of a novelty, but it was found to be just eatable. This precaution, however, fortunately proved unnecessary, for two of the walrus-ships were released in a gale, and the hunters made their escape. Those of them who went to Cape Thörsden showed such a complete disregard for the laws of hygiene that they all died during the winter. As was only inevitable in the circumstances, outbreaks of scurvy were frequent, but they proved amenable to treatment. The huntsmen of the party were lucky enough to shoot seven reindeer, which formed a welcome addition to the poorly filled larder. “These,” says Leslie, “were reins in winter dress. The whole body was covered with a very close winter coat of hair several inches thick. The head, nearly indistinguishable from the neck, was short and thick, with broad nose and eyes visible on careful scrutiny. The trunk appeared shapeless, and the legs short and clumsy. This peculiarly shapeless appearance is owing not merely to the coat of long hair, but also to the thick layer of fat with which at this season the whole mass of muscle therein is surrounded. It is, indeed, surprising how this animal can collect such a mass of fat in Spitzbergen, where the vegetation is so scanty and the summer so short. In spring, even in the end of June, they are only, as people say, skin and bone; but in autumn, by the end of August, and throughout September, they resemble fat cattle, and have their flesh so surrounded and impregnated with fat that it is for many nearly uneatable.”