wondered at, "at the first thinking that it
had been white swannes, for," says the teller
of the story, "one of our men walking on
deck, on a suddaine began to cry out with a
loude voyce, and sayd that hee sawe white
swans: which wee that were below hearing,
presently came up, and perceived that it was
ice that came driving from the great heape,
showing like swannes, it being then about
evening." After further voyaging through
perils and adventures, Gerrit de Veer tells
us: "We at last sawe that we could not get
out of the ice, but rather became faster, and
could not loose our ship as at other times we
had done, as also that it began to be winter;
we tooke counsell together what we were
best to doe according to the time, that we
might winter there and attend such adventure
as God would send us; and after we had
debated upon the matter, to keepe and defend
ourselves both from the cold and the wild
beasts, we determined to build a house upon
the land, to keep us therein as well as we
could, and so commit ourselves unto the
tuition of God. And to that end we went
further into the land, to find out the
convenientest place in our opinions to raise our
house upon, and yet we had not much stuffe
to make it withall, in regard that there grew
no trees nor any other thing in that country
convenient to build it withall. But we leaving
no occasion unsought" — among the good
thoughts pertaining to the Arctic regions we
should have said that it is a place in which
no idleness is known—"we leaving no occasion
unsought, as our men went abroad to
view the country and to see what good
fortune might happen unto us, at last we found
an unexpected comfort in our need, which
was that we found certaine trees, roots and
all (as our three companions had said before),
which had bin driven upon the shoare, either
from Tartaria, Muscovia, or elsewhere, for
there was none growing upon that land,
wherewith (as if God had purposely sent them
unto us) we were much comforted, being in
good hope that God would show us some
further favour; for that wood served us not
only to build our house, but also to burne
and serve us all the winter long; otherwise
without a doubt we had died there miserably
with extreame cold."

The simple piety of speech, the quiet
submission to a great and unexpected hardship
noticeable in this passage runs through the
whole Dutch narrative, and through the whole
Arctic literature. It is as evident now, in
the straightforward despatches of Captain
M'Clure written the other day, as it was in
the Dutch seaman's narrative written two
hundred and fifty years ago. It does not
court attention: it is never obtrusive, because
it is always true.

" It grieved us much," said the Dutchmen,
"to lye there all that cold winter, which we
knew would fall out to be extreame bitter ;
but, being bereaved of all hope, we were
compelled to make necessitie a vertue, and with
patience to attend what issue God would
send us. The 26th of September we had a
west wind and an open sea, but our ship lay
fast, wherewith we were not a little greeved;
but it was God's will, which we most
patiently bare, and we began to make up our
house." It became presently so cold that if
in building that same house (the carpenter
was dead) one of them put a nail into his
mouth, it froze upon his lips and brought
away with it the skin and blood. The ship
had been lifted by the pressure of the ice
above the sea level and rested on the top of
a huge grounded ice hill. Again and again
the sea became open all about it; but the
Dutchmen's ship was not to be got off. Working
between the house and ship and in great
dread of bears, that were numerous and bold,
the ice-bound men bore their lot without
repining. Winter set in. "The 8th of October.
All the night before it blew so hard and the
same day also, and snowed so fast that we
should have smothered if we had gone out
into the aire; and, to speake truth, it had not
beene possible for any man to have gone one
ship's length, though his life had laine thereon ;
for it was not possible for us to go out of the
house or ship." The men in the ship (where
they had few clothes) it should be said lay
under hatches, and the men in the house
with outlets closed swallowing the smoke of
their wood fires, which "sore tormented"
them. They knew not how else to save their
lives. Having sea-coal with them they, on
one occasion, lighted a huge coal fire in the
centre of their closed hut; and while they
enjoyed the warmth, were being gradually
suffocated by the products of combustion.
The vapours from the fire had nearly made an
end of them; when one tottered across to
throw open the door. They dreaded coals
for a long time thereafter. Then there was a
sick comrade dragged by eight of them from
the ship to the house upon a sledge, and
disposed upon a bed near the central fire. The
others slept on shelves that they had built
for themselves round the wall. They had
also a Dutch clock as well as a great sand
glass, running twelve hours, and there was a
lamp suspended from the roof. Reduction of
food soon became inevitable; one article after
another falling short. On the eighth of
November, it is said, "we shared our bread
among us, each man having four pound and
ten ounces for his allowance in eight daies;
so that then we were eight days eating a
barrell of bread, whereas before we ate it up in
five or six daies." Four days afterwards, "we
began to share our wine, every man had two
glasses a day; but commonly our drink was
water, which we molt out of the snow." On
the twenty-second of November, "we had
but seventeene cheeses, whereof one we ate
amongst us, and the rest were devided to
every man one for his portion, which he
might eate when he list." Two days