Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
FROM Copenhagen Jones set out through Sweden, and in his haste declined even to pause long enough in Stockholm to receive the social attentions of the court. On reaching the Gulf of Bothnia he found the sea blocked by ice. He decided to sail around it south through the Baltic sea. At Gresholm he chartered a thirty-foot boat, with a smaller one in tow, and without telling his plans to the boatmen, steered south along the coast of Sweden. At nightfall he headed across the open sea. A freezing gale blew them off their course and the boatmen began to grumble. When they proposed to turn back, Jones drew his pistol and ordered them to steer for the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland. The gale increased, but with demoniac fury Jones urged his men to push through the ice blocks and on through gusts of bitter wind clogged with snow. The small boat overturned and was lost, but Jones helped to rescue its frozen crew, and kept on, with one hand on the tiller, the other on his pistol, and his eyes fixed on the compass. To one in his weakened condition, such exposure was the reverse of good, but picturing the Empress as waiting, he permitted no sensible pause either for eating or sleeping. Too long had he been idle