We were very tired. We longed for day.
When at last the dawn came on the morning of May 10 there was
practically no wind, but a high cross-sea was running. We made slow
progress towards the shore. About 8 a.m. the wind backed to the north-
west and threatened another blow. We had sighted in the meantime a big
indentation which I thought must be King Haakon Bay, and I decided that
we must land there. We set the bows of the boat towards the bay and
ran before the freshening gale. Soon we had angry reefs on either
side. Great glaciers came down to the sea and offered no landing-
place. The sea spouted on the reefs and thundered against the shore.
About noon we sighted a line of jagged reef, like blackened teeth, that
seemed to bar the entrance to the bay. Inside, comparatively smooth
water stretched eight or nine miles to the head of the bay. A gap in
the reef appeared, and we made for it. But the fates had another
rebuff for us. The wind shifted and blew from the east right out of
the bay. We could see the way through the reef, but we could not
approach it directly. That afternoon we bore up, tacking five times in
the strong wind. The last tack enabled us to get through, and at last
we were in the wide mouth of the bay. Dusk was approaching. A small
cove, with a boulder-strewn beach guarded by a reef, made a break in
the cliffs on the south side of the bay, and we turned in that
direction.
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