Читать книгу The Great Frozen Sea - Sir Albert Hastings Markham - Страница 3
ОглавлениеLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
| FULL-PAGE PLATES. | |
| PAGE | |
| ”Alert” and “Discovery” | Frontispiece |
| Polar Bears | To face 46 |
| Winter Quarters H.M.S. “Alert” | 151 |
| Highest Northern Camp | 308 |
| Reducing a Floe-berg | 349 |
| H.M.S. “Alert” forced on Shore | 351 |
| SMALLER WOODCUTS. | |
| Seals basking on the Ice | 23 |
| Eskimo Women | 28 |
| Walruses | 75 |
| Cape Hawks | 84 |
| Plan of Ice Dock | 88 |
| ”The Moaning of the Tied” | 89 |
| Musk Oxen | 105 |
| Knots | 111 |
| Dog-sledge in difficulties | 131 |
| Start of the Autumn Sledges | 143 |
| Diagram of Magnetic Observatories | 153 |
| Flag-staff Point (Cape Sheridan) | 155 |
| Royal Arctic Theatre—Scene from “Aladdin and the Wonderful Scamp” | 170 |
| Nellie | 189 |
| Lemmings | 212 |
| Cairn Hill | 220 |
| Sledge under sail | 231 |
| Dogs and Sledge | 247 |
| Getting ready to “Bag” | 269 |
| Chart of Outward and Return Tracks | 274 |
| Interior of Tent | 280 |
| A Packed Sledge | 281 |
| Snow-bunting | 319 |
| Brent-goose and Eider-ducks | 340 |
| Allman Bay | 355 |
| Fulmar Petrels (“Mollies”) | 361 |
| Farewell! | 369 |
| Map showing the Discoveries of the Arctic Expedition, 1875–6 | To face 1 |
THE GREAT FROZEN SEA.
CHAPTER I.
FITTING OUT.
| “Vitailled was the shippe, it is no drede, Habundantly for hire a ful long space: And other necessaries that shuld nede She had ynow, heried be Godde’s grace: For wind and weather, Almighty God purchace, And bring hire home, I can no better say But in the see she driveth forth hire way.” Chaucer (Man of Lawe’s Tale). |
The above quaint lines, written five hundred years ago, well describe the scenes that were being enacted during the months of April and May, 1875, in Portsmouth Dockyard.
Busy as this great naval depôt of England almost always is, it is seldom, in peace time, that so much interest is shown in the equipment of two small steam-vessels as was the case with regard to those that were then lying “all a taunto” in the steam basin of that extensive yard.
The names of those comparatively small ships were the “Alert” and the “Discovery,” their destination the unknown North.
Although of insignificant size, in comparison with the huge ironclad monsters by which they were surrounded, yet a close observer would readily detect signs of great strength in these two business-like looking vessels. And very necessary was it that they should possess strength and powers of resistance of no ordinary kind, for they were destined to grapple and fight with the heavy and unyielding ice floes of the Polar Ocean.
The two ships had been very carefully selected and fitted for the important work in which they were about to engage. The “Alert” was a 17-gun sloop, and had already served two or three commissions on foreign stations before she was converted for Arctic service. The “Discovery” was built in Dundee for the whaling and sealing trade, in which she had been engaged for a short time off the coast of Newfoundland, before she was purchased for the Arctic expedition.
The “Alert” was thoroughly strengthened, and, under the supervision of the Admiral Superintendent of the Dockyard (Sir Leopold McClintock), adapted in every way for the hazardous service on which she was about to be employed.
After a complete overhaul of her hull, all defective timbers and beams were removed, and replaced by sound ones; extra beam power was introduced; an external sheathing of seven inches of teak, tapering from amidships to four inches forward and three inches aft, extending from the keel to the waterways, was put on; whilst a longitudinal beam, placed between the shelf-piece and the lower-deck waterway internally, bound and strapped the whole ship together. Extra iron knees were introduced in order more effectually to resist the enormous pressure of the ice; and the stem was fortified outside with half-inch iron plates extending to about ten or twelve feet aft, whilst inside the bow was strengthened by numerous diagonal beams and dead-wood.
Between the inside planking and the lining were placed sheets of felt for the promotion of warmth. New waterways, of a most substantial form, were added; and the ship was divided into watertight compartments.
Two large davits projected over each quarter of the vessel, by the aid of which the rudder, some three tons weight, was easily shipped and unshipped when in danger of being damaged by the ice. On these occasions it would be suspended horizontally over the stern from the davits.
Around the galley-funnel was an ingenious contrivance for making water, consisting of a large reservoir to receive either snow or ice; this, being dissolved by the heat from the fire underneath, is drawn off through a tap at the bottom, thus providing our water supply. Like all vessels employed in the whaling trade, both ships were fitted with Pinkey and Collins’ patent reefing and furling topsails; and each possessed a steam-winch on the upper deck, capable of being utilized for many purposes.
At the maintop-gallant-mast-head of each vessel was a large barrel-like object. This was the crow’s nest, a very necessary item on board all ships destined to navigate the icy seas. Both ships were barque-rigged, and were supplied with the ordinary contrivances used on board short-handed merchant vessels to facilitate the work.
They formed, indeed, a curious contrast to the heavily rigged but trim men-of-war, which, with their tapering spars and faultlessly squared yards, lay in the harbour near them.
Each vessel was supplied with nine boats of various shapes and sizes, specially designed and constructed for the service peculiar to Arctic waters. Two of these were completely equipped for whaling, so as to be able to follow and capture walruses and narwhals. They were both fitted with harpoon-guns fixed on swivels in the bows. The ice-boats were three in number for each ship, and were built as light as it was possible to make them. Paddles were supplied, by which they could be propelled, as well as oars. They were all carvel-built boats, and the bows of each were armed with a broad sheet of copper as a protection from the ice.
The figure-heads of each ship, like their fittings, were exactly similar. They were what are commonly called “fiddle-heads,” having the Union Jack painted on them, and underneath the word Ubique; and to no flag can that word be more truly and more appropriately applied. Everywhere is it to be found, even beyond the limits of the abode of man!
The clothing and provisions supplied to the ships were in a great measure regulated according to the establishments by which preceding expeditions had been fitted out, and were almost identical in texture and quality.
Great care was taken in the selection of both officers and men, and none were appointed until they had undergone a searching medical examination as to their fitness for Arctic service, several being rejected who had the appearance of being fine and eligible young fellows. The slightest defect, such as bad teeth or old wounds, was a sufficient pretext for refusing the services of otherwise apparently strong and healthy men. Numerous were the volunteers that came forward, rendering the task of selecting a few from the number of eager willing men that presented themselves one of no little difficulty.
Their social and moral qualifications were as strictly inquired into as was their physical condition; and men of a happy and genial disposition were selected in preference to others who appeared morose and taciturn.
“Can you sing or dance? or what can you do for the amusement of others?” were questions invariably addressed to candidates for Arctic service by the board of officers appointed to select from the numerous applicants who presented themselves.
The ray of pleasure that lighted up the faces of those individuals who were informed that they were to be of that small chosen band, indicated most clearly the popularity of the enterprize amongst the men of the Royal Navy; whilst the disappointed ones, and they were many, showed only too plainly the mortification they experienced at being rejected. As an instance of the eagerness evinced by the men to be employed in the expedition, a gallant captain commanding a ship at Portsmouth called at the office where the men were being entered, and requested advice. He said, “An order has come on board my ship, directing me to send volunteers for Arctic service to this office. What am I to do? The whole ship’s company, nearly eight hundred men, have given in their names!”
This is merely mentioned in order to show the amount of interest taken by the whole navy in the cause for which the ships were being equipped.
The ships’ companies being completed, officers and men were unremittingly engaged in the various duties incidental to fitting out. Provisions and stores, sufficient to last for three years, had to be received on board and stowed away. There was no waste space on board either vessel. Every little nook and corner was destined to be the receptacle of some important article. The ships gradually settled down in the water as the weights on board accumulated, until they appeared to be alarmingly deep, whilst much yet remained unstowed. The Admiralty had, however, provided for this emergency. The “Valorous,” an old paddle-wheel sloop of good carrying capabilities, was ordered to convey all surplus stores, that could not be stowed on board the two exploring vessels, as far as the island of Disco, on the west coast of Greenland.
This was a very wise and necessary precaution, as it would be obviously unsafe to cross the Atlantic in boisterous weather, laden as the two ships undoubtedly would have been if they had received no assistance from a third vessel in the conveyance of their stores.
Through the kindness and generosity of our friends, and of those who more especially interested themselves in the progress of Arctic discovery, we received many useful and valuable gifts. Her Majesty and the members of the Royal Family testified, in a substantial manner, the deep interest they took in the enterprize. The name of her Imperial Majesty the Empress Eugénie must always be associated with the expedition as one of its warmest friends. Her kind and considerate present, consisting of a fine woollen cap for each individual, contributed materially to our comfort whilst engaged in the onerous duties of sledging.
To mention the names of all our generous benefactors would require a chapter to itself. Books, magic lanterns, a piano, pictures, and money came pouring in from all sides; but smaller and less valuable, though not the less appreciated, gifts were also received. A small case, with the superscription, “A Christmas box for my friends on board the ‘Alert,’ ” and containing four bottles of excellent punch, and a little parcel of well-thumbed books and periodicals, showing undoubted signs of having been well perused, but which came with the “best wishes of a warrant officer, himself an old Arctic explorer,” were accepted with as much pleasure and gratitude as were the more costly presents.
Games of all descriptions, to while away the long evenings of a dark and monotonous winter, were purchased; whilst a complete set of instruments for a drum-and-fife band was also added to the long list of our necessaries.
In devoting a certain sum of money to the purchase of musical instruments and games, wherewithal to amuse ourselves, we were only following an example set us many years ago; for when Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed in 1583, for the purpose of discovering new lands, and planting Christian colonies upon those large and ample countries extending northward from Florida, we read that, “for the solace of our people, and allurement of the savages, we were provided of musicke in good varietie; not omitting the least toyes, as morris dancers, hobby horses, and many like conceits, to delight the savage people, whom we intended to winne by all faire meanes possible.”
We also hear, when that brave old navigator John Davis undertook his first voyage in 1585, with his two frail little barks, the “Sunneshine” and the “Mooneshine,” that in the first-named vessel were twenty-three persons, of whom four were musicians—a large band in proportion to the complement of officers and men.
In spite of the bustle and confusion that are inseparable from the preparation of such an expedition, in spite of fresh paint and tarry ropes, several thousands of visitors came on board before sailing, to the no small hindrance of the work; but it is feared that many others, owing to the stringent regulations that it was necessary to issue in order to have the vessels ready by the appointed time, were compelled to return to their homes without having the satisfaction of saying that they had been on board the Polar ships. Amongst those who honoured the vessels with a visit were his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, his Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, and her Imperial Majesty the Empress Eugénie.
The entertainments given in our honour were very numerous; many were almost regarded as farewell banquets.
We were looked upon as public property; our hospitable countrymen, in the generosity of their hearts, never thinking that we should like to spend our last few days in England in peace and quietness amongst our own friends, wished to feed us on the fat of the land, and send us to sea suffering from that worst of all complaints, dyspepsia, accompanied perhaps by mal de mer.
At length all preparations were completed. The day originally assigned for the sailing of the expedition, the 29th of May, dawned grey and misty, with dashes of rain falling and lying in little pools on our freshly painted deck. During the forenoon we were honoured by a visit from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, who came to bid us farewell and success on our mission. This was the last official visit paid to the vessels. At its termination officers and men were left pretty much to themselves, so that their last few hours in England might be spent with their own relatives. Four o’clock in the afternoon was the hour named for the departure of the ships, and punctual to the very minute they cast off from the dockyard jetty. The last embrace had been taken, the last fervent farewell had been wished, and, a good omen for the coming voyage, as the vessels steamed out of Portsmouth Harbour, all clouds cleared away, and the sun shone out bright and joyous. During the day crowds had been flocking from all parts of England in order to add their voices to those of other well-wishers to the enterprize. Seldom before in that famous seaport town, although the centre of many stirring events, had such a scene been witnessed. Thousands of spectators were congregated along the sea-face extending from the dockyard to Southsea Castle, and on the opposite shore of Gosport, to witness our departure; and cheer after cheer pealed forth from the assembled multitude as we slowly threaded our way amongst the numerous yachts and pleasure boats that had collected to bid us Godspeed. A small thin line of red, hardly to be distinguished amidst the more sombre hue of the holiday seekers’ dresses, denoted the troops of the garrison drawn up to do honour to their comrades of the sister service, whilst their bands, breaking forth with the soul-stirring strains of “Auld lang syne,” found an echo in the hearts of all connected with the expedition.
It was, indeed, a proud moment for us as we witnessed this unmistakeable demonstration, and felt that we, a small but chosen band, had been selected to carry out a national enterprize of such importance.
If anything was required to assure us of the popularity of our undertaking, the spectacle that afternoon on Southsea Common was surely a convincing proof.
There was but one responsive feeling in the hearts of every member of the expedition, namely, a determination to deserve this confidence, and to achieve, with God’s help, such a measure of success as would prove satisfactory to the country and creditable to the navy.
It will be long before that scene is effaced from our memories. Our last view of Portsmouth was across a bright blue sea to a shore thronged with an enthusiastic and cheering crowd waving a last farewell; whilst the last glimpse our friends had of us was across the same blue sparkling sea, the snow-white sails of our ships being lit up by the rays of the setting sun.
Our feelings appeared to be reflected in the changes of the weather on that, to us, memorable day. The rain and mist in the morning were emblematical of the sorrow of parting; while when the sun burst forth bright and joyous in the afternoon, we all felt assured that the work on which we were about to be employed would be achieved, and that the enterprize commenced under such bright auspices would terminate as well and happily.
Nothing occurred to mar the departure; one incident only happened that might have terminated disastrously and thrown a gloom over the little squadron. Immediately after the pilot had been discharged, one of the men of the “Alert,” in the excitement and ardour of responding to the cheers with which we were on all sides greeted, lost his balance in the rigging and fell overboard. He was, however, quickly picked up and brought on board none the worse for his immersion, although the consternation excited by this mishap to a boatload of men and women, who happened to witness the accident, nearly resulted in fatal consequences. The half-drowned and thoroughly drenched man being restored to his shipmates, the squadron having been joined at Spithead by the “Valorous,” rounded the Nab-light vessel, and before a fine fresh north-easterly breeze spread their sails and steered down channel.
For many hours, however, they were escorted by a little yacht containing the relatives of some few of the officers of the expedition, which following in their wake reluctantly parted only when all further communication was impracticable.
This, and a visit we received on the following morning from the brave old admiral, the Commander-in-chief at Plymouth, when passing the port, was the last sight of friends we were destined to enjoy for many a long month.
We all felt that we had bidden them a long farewell, and from thenceforth, as far as they were concerned, we could only live in the happy memories of the past, buoyed up by hopes and aspirations as to the future.
Experiencing fine weather, the anchors were dropped on the third day in the snug little harbour of Berehaven, in Bantry Bay. The object of this visit was to obtain our last supply of fresh meat, and our last budget of letters from home. A farewell ramble on shore amongst green fields and picturesque little farmhouses, where we were regaled with delicious fresh milk, was also enjoyed, and a visit paid to some Druidical remains near the long straggling village of Castletown.
And here, amongst the long green grass and by the side of clear rippling rivulets, we gathered the last flowers of spring that would gladden our eyes until after our return to our native shore. Carefully were these floral treasures hoarded until an opportunity offered of transmitting them to dear friends at home. It is related of one officer, who was so fortunate as to gather several sprigs of “forget-me-not,” and whose home ties were, perhaps, not so attractive as those of others, that he offered to barter small tufts of this precious little plant for a bottle of beer, or a pot of cocoa and milk, the two latter articles being excessively scarce on board the Arctic ships, and proportionately valuable.
On the 2nd of June, the day following their arrival, the little squadron once more put to sea. From that date the receipt of all letters ceased. No more telegrams; no loving missives; all intelligence from home must come to an end. We could live only for the future, and pray for a happy and speedy return. Before nightfall the high and rugged coast of Ireland had sunk below the eastern horizon, leaving nothing visible on the apparently boundless ocean but our three ships as they were lazily rocked by the long rolling swell of the broad Atlantic.
| “The vessel gently made her liquid way; The cloven billows flashed from off her prow, In furrows formed by that majestic plough; The waters with their world were all before.” |
CHAPTER II.
THE VOYAGE TO DISCO.
| “Now from the sight of land, our galleys move; With only seas around, and skies above. When o’er our heads descends a cloud of rain, And night with sable clouds involves the main, The ruffling winds the foaming billows raise, The scattered fleet is forced to several ways. … . … And from our shrouds We view a rising land like distant clouds, The mountain tops confirm the pleasing sight.” Virgil. |
The next morning we found that on leaving England we had also left behind bright sunshine and blue skies, and in their place gloomy grey clouds were spread over us, while rain fell sullenly through the murky air. This, with head winds, was our normal condition for many days. Steam was occasionally raised during any lengthened periods of calm; but the report from the engineer that steam was ready was, as a rule, followed by a report from deck that a breeze was springing up, but invariably from an adverse quarter.
On the 5th of June, in order to expedite our movements, the “Valorous” received permission to ignore the presence of a senior officer and make the best of her way to Disco; the “Alert” and “Discovery” continuing their course together.
We were not many days together at sea before we discovered the good qualities of our ship’s company. There was a willingness about them that could not fail to be appreciated, whilst the thorough good feeling that seemed to exist was highly satisfactory. As a proof of the desire of each one to assist his neighbour, it may not be out of place to mention that the petty officers of the “Alert,” a day or two after leaving harbour, requested permission to take turns with the able seamen in steering the ship, a duty from which, by their position, they are usually exempt. It need hardly be said their wish was immediately gratified.
During the passage our medical staff was busily engaged in ascertaining the physical capacities of every individual member of the expedition. These experiments were by some jokingly resented as an unauthorized system of mental and bodily torture. Every one’s age was carefully noted; height and weight accurately ascertained; dimensions round the chest measured; and by means of an instrument called a spirometer the capacity of the chest was also obtained; a clinical thermometer was inserted into the mouth and kept there for an apparently interminable time for the purpose of ascertaining the temperature of the blood. The treatment we were subjected to in the cause of science was thus described by one whose acquaintance with the Royal Navy was only of a few days’ standing: “I was unceremoniously laid hold of and measured, forced into a chair and weighed, was compelled to answer the most impertinent questions regarding my age and connections; a horrid instrument was kept in my mouth for an hour or more, and I was forced to blow into a machine until not a breath of wind was left in my body!” The results of all these experiments were duly registered, the intention being to compare them with a similar examination on the return of the expedition, in order to ascertain the effects of an Arctic life upon the physical development of our bodies.
The appetites of the officers, rendered doubly keen by the fresh sea air, were so inordinate as to cause serious anxiety in the mind of our worthy caterer, who was fearful that the allowance of provisions would never last the specified time, at the rate they were then being consumed.
From the fifth day after leaving port lime juice was regularly issued to every officer and man in the expedition. Being considered an indispensable antiscorbutic, it was essential that precautions should be adopted to ensure the certainty of each man drinking it daily. It was therefore the practice to serve it out on the quarter-deck every forenoon in the presence of an officer. This was never omitted during the whole period that our expedition was absent from England. With one or two exceptions the lime juice was drunk with pleasure by the men, and the exceptions were gradually educated, by taking it in small quantities, until their dislike was cured.
In consequence of the limited stowage capacity on board, the officers were unable to provide themselves with a large stock of beer. A considerable quantity of wine and spirits, however, was laid in; but as an anticipated absence of three years had to be provided for, we were restricted to an allowance of two glasses of sherry per diem, a glass of port or madeira once a week, and a bottle of brandy or whiskey about every fourteen or fifteen days. On birthdays or fête days we were also indulged in a glass of port wine after dinner.
Ten hogsheads of Allsopp’s ale, brewed especially for the Arctic Expedition, were provided by Government and formed part of the ship’s stores. It was grand stuff—“strong enough,” as one of the men observed, “to make our hair curl!”
We were not destined to enjoy fine weather long, and our passage across the Atlantic was by no means a pleasant or a comfortable one. Gale followed after gale. If they had only blown from the right quarter we should have been happy, but we had no such luck, they were sure to come ahead!
What a lively ship was the “Alert”! making it utterly impossible to keep anything in its place. It was decidedly annoying, one day, when I entered my cabin to find my nice smart crimson table-cloth drenched with ink; but it was no use repining, and I could only exclaim, with Lord Dorset—
| “Our paper, pens, and ink, and we, Are tumbled up and down at sea.” |
Liveliness was not her only peculiarity, she was likewise excessively wet, and although battened down carefully it was impossible to keep the water from going below. To those who are uninitiated in nautical terms it must be explained that “battening down” means the careful closing and covering with a tarpaulin of every skylight and hatchway, in order to prevent the water from finding its way below. In spite, however, of these precautions, it is excessively difficult to keep the lower deck of a small ship dry during heavy weather.
On the 13th it was blowing furiously with a terrific sea, and we were compelled to “lay-to” under very reduced canvas. During the night a large steamer, supposed to be bound for Quebec, passed close to us, so close indeed that we were compelled to burn blue lights in order to denote our position, so as to avoid collision.
On the same night a heavy sea struck us, and washed away our starboard whale boat. Our consort also suffered the same loss. Nearly all our fowls, which were in hen-coops on the upper deck, were drowned; only two escaping! Fresh meat being scarce the manner of their death did not prevent their appearance on our table for some days. This gale had the effect of dispersing our little squadron, nor did we again assemble together until our arrival at Disco.
No sooner had we recovered from the effects of one gale, than we were assailed by another. Our only consolation was, the very poor one of trying to believe that these storms would eventually be the means of assisting us in our passage through Melville Bay, by breaking up the ice and blowing it out of Davis Straits!
The discomforts entailed by the perpetual bad weather did not in any way check the ardour of some of the officers in their praiseworthy endeavours to add to the scientific collections of the expedition. It is related, but I will not vouch for the authenticity of the story, that on one occasion, when the ship was labouring heavily, a huge sea washed on board, finding its way down through the skylight into the ward-room, where it splashed about from side to side with every roll of the ship. An officer, a most zealous and enthusiastic collector in all branches of natural history, being in bed at the time, thought that he detected by the dim light of a lantern some interesting, and perhaps unknown, specimens of zoology in the water. His landing net was immediately called into requisition, and, from his bed, he succeeded in fishing up some of these supposed wonderful organisms. The microscope was instantly produced for the purpose of ascertaining the nature of his find, when, to his great disappointment, he discovered they were simply grains of buckwheat—part of the stock that had been laid in for our unfortunate fowls!
Our progress was tardy. On more than one occasion we were actually farther off Cape Farewell, the point of land we were striving to make, than on the day previous!
As we approached Davis Straits, speculations were rife as to when and where we should meet our first ice. The greatest eagerness was shown by all on board to become acquainted with the enemy whose fastnesses we were preparing to attack and from which we hoped to return victorious.
On the 25th of June, being still at some distance to the southward of Cape Farewell, a vessel was sighted steering in the opposite direction to ourselves. We passed at too great a distance to avail ourselves of such a favourable opportunity of sending letters to England, though there were many on board who showed an intense anxiety to communicate. We suspected, and our reasoning proved correct, that this would be the last vessel we should see for many a long day, and she was consequently watched with a great deal of interest. She was, in all probability, a homeward bound Peterhead vessel laden with cryolite. The cryolite is a rare mineral and the sole one which has become an article of trade in Greenland. It is found only in one single spot called Ivigtut in 61° 10′ N., imbedded like a massive body in the granitic rock, and not in veins or strata. In 1857 a licence was granted to a private company for working the cryolite, and in the first nine years 14,000 tons were exported in 80 ship-loads. During the next nine years the total export amounted to 70,000 tons. Cryolite is converted by a chemical process into soda and an alumina unequalled as regards purity and fitness for the art of dyeing.1
As we neared the waters of Davis Straits, whales were observed in great numbers. They were principally what are called by the whalers “bottle-noses.” This species of cetacean is the Hyperoodon rostratus, and is from twenty to twenty-six feet long, with teeth in the lower jaw. The “bottle-noses” are seldom sought and captured by the whalers owing to the small amount of oil that they yield, not more than a few hundred-weight of blubber being derived from each one of this species. A dead whale of the “right” or “Greenland” sort was also passed. What a prize for a whaler this would have been; worth about £1,000! but of no value whatever to us, so it was allowed to float by untouched. How the mouths of our ice quarter-masters, all hailing from those essentially whaling ports Dundee and Peterhead, watered as they beheld what by them would have undoubtedly been considered a god-send! The evident look of wonder, not unmixed with contempt, that showed itself upon their countenances was truly ludicrous when they found that we were about to pass so valuable a prize unheeded. This fish—for all “right” whales (Balæna mysticetus) are denominated “fish” by those engaged in their capture—had probably been struck by some whaler and, having succeeded in evading its persecutors, had since died of its wounds; or else it had been killed by the inveterate enemy of the whale the Orca gladiator, or “grampus,” sometimes called “sword-fish,” which pursues and harasses these harmless unoffending leviathans of the deep whenever opportunities offer. The rorqual, or “finner” (Physalus antiquorum), was also seen; it is easily distinguished from the right whale by the dorsal fin peculiar to this cetacean, and from which it derives its name. The rorquals are seldom captured, great difficulty being experienced in killing these huge monsters, which are frequently known to measure as much as ninety feet in length. Scoresby mentions one measuring one hundred and twenty feet. Great as is their size, however, the amount of blubber to be obtained from them is very insignificant. They feed upon cod-fish (as many as eight or nine hundred have been found in the stomach of one of these whales) and are constantly seen off the south and west coast of Greenland.
A falling temperature on the 27th of June, and a peculiar light blink along the horizon, gave us due notice of the immediate proximity of ice. As the weather was thick and foggy extra precautions were adopted in order to guard against coming into serious collision with any icebergs, for, however beautiful these floating islands of ice may be during bright clear weather, they are dangerous and formidable foes when near and unseen.
True to the warning received, an iceberg was shortly afterwards sighted, and by 4 P.M. the ship was steaming through loose detached fragments of heavy floe ice.
It is impossible to describe the excitement that prevailed on board on this first introduction of many among us to that icy world in which we afterwards lived for fifteen months. To me it gave rise to reminiscences of old times, but to the uninitiated it was an exciting scene, and was gazed upon with intense interest.
The officer of the watch, desirous of having the honour of making the ship first touch ice, and being also under the impression that a reward of a bottle of champagne would be given to him who should first succeed in doing so, steered straight for a heavy piece nearly submerged. His efforts were crowned with success, but they were also accompanied by a gentle admonition that for the future he should be a little more careful of her Majesty’s property, and avoid all such fragments as were likely to knock a hole in the bows of the ship.
On the following morning we sighted the high, bold, and snow-capped hills in the neighbourhood of Cape Desolation. This headland was so called by that sturdy navigator, brave old John Davis, during his first voyage of discovery in the year 1585. In his quaint manner he describes “the land being very high and full of mightie mountaines all covered with snowe, no viewe of wood, grasse, or earth to be seene, and the shore for two leages into the sea so full of yce as that no shipping cold by any meanes come neere the same. The lothsome viewe of the shore, and irksome noyse of the yce was such as that it bred strange conceipts among us, so that we supposed the place to be wast and voyd of any sencible or vegitable creatures, whereupon I called the same Desolation.”
Icebergs were now constantly seen, some being of very considerable dimensions, and looming in the distance like real islands. As one of our men wittily remarked on seeing his first iceberg, it reminded him strongly of the Isle of Wight (white)!!
The streams of ice through which the vessel was navigated were composed of fragments of heavy pack ice, that had in all probability drifted down the east coast of Greenland, and had been swept round Cape Farewell. They were of very deep flotation, and great care had to be taken in steering the ship through, so as to avoid striking these pieces more than was absolutely necessary; so heavily laden was the ship, that the force of the blows in some instances was very seriously felt.
| SEALS BASKING ON THE ICE. |
Seals were seen basking lazily and dreamily on the ice, or following in our wake, staring inquisitively at us with their large round eyes, looking for all the world like human beings. The fabulous merman and mermaiden seemed to us easily accounted for. The seals observed were of two descriptions—namely, the Pagomys fœtidus, or “floe-rat;” and the Pagophilus Grœnlandicus, the “saddle-back,” or common Greenland seal.
Birds, common to these regions, hovered around, following us for days together and breaking the solitude that surrounded us with their joyous and gladsome presence.
The 1st of July was a beautiful, bright, clear, sunny day, and to us was doubly welcome after the continuous bad weather which until now had been our lot. Not a ripple disturbed the calm surface of the sea as it lay blue and gleaming in the sunshine. Here and there a few small patches of ice reminded us of our proximity to the Arctic circle, while a certain sharp-bracing crispness in the air, together with a rather low temperature, served to assure us that the high snow-covered land in the distance was in reality “Greenland’s icy mountains”—no hymnal myth as supposed by many, but grand ranges, devoid of all verdure, wrapped in their snowy mantle, and rising to an altitude of from two to three thousand feet above the level of the sea, a majestic and sublime reality.
By noon we were off the little Danish settlement of Fiskernaes, and shortly afterwards passed that of Godthaab, but at too great a distance to make out the buildings or any signs of inhabitants. It was at Godthaab that Hans Egede landed on July 3rd, 1721, with his wife and children, and commenced his noble and disinterested labour of love among the Eskimos. The missionary institutions founded by Hans Egede and the Moravians have gradually incorporated the whole population of Greenland into Christian communities.
The appearance of this part of the coast of Greenland was very striking, especially to those who were strangers to Arctic scenery. The mountains, with their peaks so pointed as scarcely to admit of the snow resting on their steep and almost precipitous sides, intersected by grand fiords and gorges penetrating for miles into the interior, formed a magnificent landscape.
To the great relief and joy of all, we were on this day rejoined by our consort the “Discovery,” who, like ourselves, had been roughly handled by the tempestuous weather since we lost sight of her in the Atlantic.
Expecting to pass over the “Torske” banks, the dredge was prepared, and fishing lines served out; every one busy stretching and fitting their lines, and smacking their lips over an anticipated dinner of fresh cod and halibut. Soundings in thirty fathoms having been obtained on one of these banks, the ship was stopped and permission given to fish. Immediately fifty or sixty fishing lines were over the side; but, although our eager fishermen persevered for a couple of hours, no capture rewarded their patience. The “wily cod” remained sullen at the bottom, and could not even be induced to “nibble.”
The dredge was also put over, and hauled in with unimportant results, only a few echinoderms being obtained.
During the night an iceberg of curious shape was passed. When first seen it was reported as a sail; on approaching it a little nearer it assumed the appearance of a huge column-shaped basaltic rock, and then that of a lighthouse; for some time it was really believed to be the former.
On the 4th of July the Arctic circle was crossed. From this date, for some weeks, we were to have continuous day. The nights had for some time past been getting gradually shorter: now they had ceased altogether—candles and lamps were no longer necessary, bright sunlight reigned paramount.
Two days afterwards the expedition was safely anchored in the bay of Lievely, off the little Danish settlement of Godhavn. Although small, it is the most important establishment in the Inspectorate of North Greenland, for here resides the Royal Inspector, who controls, with absolute authority, the large mixed population of Danes and Eskimos who inhabit this the most northern civilized land in the world.
A salute of nine guns, from a small battery of three diminutive specimens of ordnance, welcomed our arrival, the smoke from which had scarcely blown away before Mr. Krarup Smith, the Inspector, came on board, anxious to offer assistance, and desirous of extending the hospitalities of his house to the members of the expedition.
Nothing could be more kind than the reception accorded us by the inhabitants of this little settlement. Their sole desire was to please and aid us in every way, and we were soon firm and fast friends with the innocent and simple-minded residents.
