“It was foule weather again, with an easterly wind and extreame cold, almost not to bee endured, where upon wee lookt pittifully one upon the other, being in great feare, that if the extreamitie of the cold grew to bee more and more, wee should all dye there with cold; for that what fire soever wee made it would not warme us; yea, and our sake, which is so hot, was frozen very hard, so that when we were every man to have his part, we were forced to melt it in the fire, which wee shared every second day about halfe a pint for a man, where with we were forced to sustayne ourselves; and at other times we dranke water, which agreed not well with the cold, and we needed not to coole it with snow or ice; but we were forced to melt it out of the snow.” They were often awed by the great volumes of sound, “like the bursting asunder of mountains and the dashing them to atoms.” About the middle of January, they were forced, under great difficulties, to secure more wood, and, making another trip to the vessel, they found much ice accumulated within, and returned to their hut with a fox caught in the ship’s cabin, which provided them with fresh meat. On Twelfth Night they made a heroic effort to make merry. They drew lots for the honour of being king of Nova Zembla, and the gunner was royally installed. Imagining themselves back in Holland, they drank to the three kings of Cologne, soaking biscuit in the wine that for days they had set aside out of their scant store to celebrate this “great feast.” But the intense cold and storms that soon followed excluded every other idea, and for days they were shut in, trying to bring warmth to their frozen bodies with hot stones, but while sitting before the fire, their backs would be white with frost, while their stockings would be burned before they could feel heat to their feet. Their stock of provisions was becoming exhausted, and although they had seen traces of bears and heard the foxes running over their heads, they could not secure any. On January 24, Gerard de Veer, Jacob Keemsdirk, and a third companion, upon making their way to the seaside toward the north, saw the sun above the horizon for the first time. Not having expected this event for fourteen days later, Barentz was doubtful of their accuracy. On the 26th, one of their number who had long been ill died, and they dug a grave seven feet in the snow, “after that we had read certaine chapters and sung some psalmes, we all went out and buried the man.” As daylight increased, they left their hut for short periods of exercise. By May their impatience to leave this desolate spot prompted them to make preparations for departure, and without waiting to see if their ship would be navigable when once released from the ice, they repaired their two boats and awaited the first opportunity “to get out of that wilde, desart, irkesome, fearfull, and cold countrey.”