skipper's offer of a passage across the Straits, which might, however,
have been prolonged for an indefinite period as the ship was now bound
in an opposite direction. That night was certainly the worst we ever
experienced, for even Teneskin was rendered helpless by the pandemonium
created by the floods of whisky which had streamed into the settlement
from the hold of the _William Bayliss_. Towards evening things looked so
ugly that the chief and his sons, armed with Winchester rifles, took up
their quarters for the night in our hut, the door of which was
barricaded by means of iron bars. Even Yemanko looked pale and anxious,
for every man in the village, he said, was mad with drink. The chief's
wife and daughters remained in the _yarat_, for a Tchuktchi however
drunk has never been known to molest a woman. Singing, shouting and
deafening yells were heard during the earlier part of the night, as men
reeled about the settlement in bands, and occasionally our door would
re-echo with crashing blows and demands for admission. This went on for
two or three hours, and when things had quieted down and we were
thinking of emerging from the stifling hut for fresh air, a shot rang
out on the stillness. We seized our rifles, and not a moment too soon,
for simultaneously the door flew open with a crash and half a dozen men
reeled into the room. One of them brandished a Winchester, but I noticed
with relief that the rest of the intruders were unarmed. The face of
another whom I recognised as a medicine man, was streaming with blood
from a wound across the forehead. Fortunately all were overcome by the
fiery poison they had been greedily imbibing and were therefore as weak
as children in the hands of seven sober men. In less time than it takes
me to write it the invaders were firmly secured with walrus thongs and
thrown out of doors to sleep the drink off. A watch was kept throughout
the night in case of an attack by reinforcements, but the deadly
"Tangle-foot" had done its work, and the village did not awaken until
the following day from its drunken slumbers. Unfortunately a native was
killed by the shot we heard.

On the morning of the 18th of July Harding and I, while walking on the
beach, remarked a white cloud on the horizon, the only blur on a
dazzling blue sky. Presently the vapour seemed to solidify, and assume
the appearance of a floating berg, until, a few minutes after, we looked
again at the object which had attracted our