leeward of the land, but the water got quickly shallow
there, and we might come on rocks at any moment. We could have gone
on in front with the boat and sounded, but I had already had more
than enough of rowing in that current. For the present we must stay
where we were and anoint ourselves with the ointment called Patience,
a medicament of which every polar expedition ought to lay in a large
supply. We hoped on for a change, but the current remained as it was,
and the wind certainly did not decrease. I was in despair at having to
lie here for nothing but this cursed current, with open sea outside,
perhaps as far as Cape Chelyuskin, that eternal cape, whose name had
been sounding in my ears for the last three weeks.

When I came on deck next morning (August 23d) winter had come. There
was white snow on the deck, and on every little projection of the
rigging where it had found shelter from the wind; white snow on
the land, and white snow floating through the air. Oh, how the snow
refreshes one's soul, and drives away all the gloom and sadness from
this sullen land of fogs! Look at it scattered so delicately, as if by
a loving hand, over the stones and the grass-flats on shore! But wind
and current are much as they were, and during the day the wind blows
up to a regular storm, howling and rattling in the Fram's rigging.

The following day (August 24th) I had quite made up my mind that we
must get out some way or other. When I came on deck in the morning the
wind had gone down considerably, and the current was not so strong. A
boat would almost be able to row against it; anyhow one could be
eased away by a line from the stern, and keep on taking soundings
there, while we "kedged" the Fram with her anchor just clear of the
bottom. But before having recourse to this last expedient I would make
another attempt to go against the wind and the current. The engineers
were ordered to put on as much pressure of steam as they dared, and the
Fram was urged on at her top speed. Our surprise was not small when
we saw that we were making way, and even at a tolerable rate. Soon
we were out of the sound or "Knipa" (nipper) as we christened it,
and could beat out to sea with steam and sail. Of course, we had, as
usual, contrary wind and thick weather. There is ample space between
every little bit of sunshine in these quarters.

Next day we kept on beating northward between the edge of the ice
and the land. The open channel was broad to