The shipwrecked crew, in the miserable shelter of the coal house, settled themselves to meet the exigencies of their frightful position. In the far distance Halloway Bay and Glasgow Island were distinctly visible, but nowhere a way through the icy labyrinth. Slowly, steadily, the ice-field drifted to the south. By November 3 the Liverpool coast had been passed, and the picturesque formation of the coast surrounding Scoresby Sound was distinctly visible. The health of the party remained good; a monotonous routine of daily duties occupied officers and men. The capture of a walrus and bear gave a welcome supply of fresh meat. Christmas was cheerfully celebrated by these shipwrecked mariners in the coal-hut on their Greenland floe. A tree artistically manufactured of pine wood and birch broom was gayly decorated with paper rings and candles,—nor were gifts wanting, and finally, wrote Dr. Laube in his day-book:— “In quiet devotion the festival passed by; the thoughts which passed through our minds (they were much alike with all) I will not put down. If this should be the last Christmas we were to see, it was at least bright enough. If, however, we were destined for a happy return home, the next will be a brighter one; may God grant it!” The months of January and February were fraught with many anxious hours, owing to the numerous and severe storms which threatened destruction to the floe. The horrors of such an experience are vividly described as follows:— On the 11th of January, “At six in the morning, Hildebrandt, who happened to have the watch, burst in with the alarm, ‘All hands turn out.’ An indescribable tumult was heard without. With furs and knapsacks all rushed out. But the outer entrance was snowed up; so to gain the outside quickly, we broke through the snow-roof of the front hall. The tumult of the elements which met us there was beyond anything we had already experienced. Scarcely able to leave the spot, we stood huddled together for protection from the bad weather. Suddenly we heard, ‘Water on the floe close by.’ The floe surrounding us split up; a heavy sea arose. Our field began to break on all sides. On the spot between our house and the piled-up store of wood which was about twenty-five paces distant, there suddenly opened a huge gap. Washed by the powerful waves, it seemed as if the piece just broken off was about to fall upon us; and at the same time we felt the rising and falling of our now greatly reduced floe. All seemed lost. From our split-up ice-field all the firewood was drifting into the raging sea. And in like manner we had nearly lost our boat _Bismarck_; even the whale-boat was obliged to be brought for safety into the middle of the floe. The large boat, being too heavy to handle, we were obliged to give up entirely. All this in a temperature of -9½°, and a heavy storm, was an arduous piece of work. The community were divided into two parts. We bade each other good-by with a farewell shake of the