Читать книгу The Great Frozen Sea - Sir Albert Hastings Markham - Страница 4
Оглавление1 See Dr. Rink’s “Greenland,” p. 79.
CHAPTER III.
THE GREENLAND SETTLEMENTS.
| “Behold I see the haven nigh at hand, To which I meane my wearie course to bend; Vere the maine shete and beare up with the land, The which afore is fayrly to be kend, And seemeth safe from stormes that may offend.” Spenser. |
It was with a very pleasing sensation of relief that we found the ship once more at rest, after thirty-four days of such knocking about as is seldom experienced at sea for so long a time without a break. The rolling and pitching to which a small ship is subjected in a heavy sea are never altogether agreeable, and the quiet and repose of a snug well-protected harbour are welcomed even by the “veriest old sea-dog.” But, although free from the turmoil of the “angry waste of waters,” our short stay at Godhavn can scarcely be called a period of rest. Much had to be done, coals had to be taken on board, and a nondescript quantity of stores and provisions received from the “Valorous” and stowed away.
The days were long, however. We had arrived in the region where the midnight sun shone almost as brightly and gave as much light as at noonday; and if, in consequence, the men were kept longer at work than they otherwise would have been, they felt themselves amply compensated for their extra labour by the indulgence of a run on shore in the evening, and an open-air dance with the dusky and light-hearted beauties of the land.
| ESKIMO WOMEN. |
Never did the deck of a man-of-war present such an untidy and confused appearance as ours did after receiving the last cask from the “Valorous.” Casks and cases lay higgledy-piggledy amongst coals and ropes. Such a scene as our upper deck presented would have been sufficient to drive a smart first lieutenant distracted. We were, however, all much too practical to think of appearances, our sole thought was to be provided with enough of everything to guard against all accidents. Between decks was a repetition of the scene above, and it was with the greatest difficulty we could move from one part of the ship to the other. To add to the pleasing state of the vessel twenty-four Eskimo dogs—the number was afterwards augmented to thirty—were received on board, to be used in our sledging operations. Such a howling lot! No sooner did they arrive than a regular battle ensued, and we were compelled for some days to tie up a few of the most pugnacious, in order to secure anything like peace.
This state of affairs, namely, the incessant fighting and squabbling amongst the dogs, continued until one had gained the acknowledged supremacy by thrashing the whole pack. This happens in all well-regulated dog communities. The conqueror is henceforth styled the “king” dog; he rules his subjects with despotic sway, frequently settling a quarrel between a couple of pugilistic disputants, reserving for himself the best of everything in the shape of food, the other dogs yielding their tit-bits with cringing servility, exerting a complete mastery over his canine subjects, and exacting from them the most abject homage. The dogs were kept as much as possible in the fore part of the ship, and soon became great favourites with the men.
To take charge of this unruly pack, we obtained the services, through the kindness and assistance of Mr. Krarup Smith, the Inspector, of a native Eskimo, who with his gun and kayak was duly installed on board in the capacity of dog-driver and interpreter. He rejoiced in the name of Frederic, and had the reputation of being a keen and successful hunter. Although he could not boast of good looks, his bright cheerful face and unvarying good temper soon made him a friend to all on board.
The novelty of a never-ending day, for the first time experienced by so many in the expedition, sadly interfered with the natural time for rest and sleep. Long past midnight would the sounds of music and mirth be heard from the shore, as the dances were kept up with unabated vigour; while shrieks of laughter and merriment would be heard afloat, as the officers, indulging in aquatic tastes, would be seen rowing races in small collapsible boats, or trying their skill for the first time in the frail kayak. For the management of these latter fairy-like canoes great caution is required—indeed, it is hardly possible to manage them without much practice.
Our first lieutenant was, however, an exception to this rule, for owing to experience acquired in canoes in various parts of the world, he succeeded in the management of the kayak so admirably as to excite the surprise and admiration of the natives. W——, another of our officers, not to be outdone by his mess-mate, also tried his skill in one of these little barks, but he had not paddled many yards before it capsized, leaving him head down in the water, with his legs firmly jammed in the boat. He would undoubtedly have been drowned before assistance could arrive had he not shown a wonderful degree of presence of mind. So securely was he fixed in his kayak, that it was only by unbuttoning his braces and getting out of his trousers that he succeeded in extricating himself from his dangerous predicament, leaving that article of dress inside the kayak!
In spite of the multifarious duties connected with the ship, which kept every one fully occupied, the pursuit of science was not neglected. Several complete series of observations were obtained for the determination of the magnetic force. Photographs were taken, and geological and botanical collections were extensively made, whilst a boat with the first lieutenant and our energetic naturalist proceeded some little distance up the coast to a place called Ovifak for the purpose of obtaining information regarding some “meteorites” reported to have fallen there.
The desire of “stretching one’s legs” after being cooped up on board ship for so long was universally felt, and officers and men alike enjoyed a scramble over the lofty volcanic cliffs which overlie the gneiss in this part of the island of Disco.
The difficulty of the ascent of the Lyngenmarkfjeld, a range of hills about two thousand feet in height, situated on the northern side of the harbour, was amply compensated for by the view from its summit. Landing in a pretty little bay, in which lay the remains of an old steam whaler, the “Wildfire,” that had fallen a victim to the ice some years ago, and emerging from the rather dense, though stunted, vegetation that grows luxuriantly at the base of these hills, the way led over precipitous basaltic cliffs, until by dint of hard climbing the snow-clad heights were reached.
The accomplishment of this task, however, was both arduous and perilous, in consequence of the action of the frost on the rocks of which the cliffs were composed; for on the slightest touch they often crumbled away, rolling with a mass of débris many hundreds of feet to the bottom.
From the summit a glorious scene was revealed to us. The mainland of Greenland, that land so “wonderfull mountaynous, whose mountaynes all the yeare long are full of yce and snowe,” was distinctly brought to our view, whilst immediately at our feet was the picturesque settlement of Godhavn, and the three vessels, resembling miniature toy-ships, lying at anchor in its snug little harbour. The Whale-fish Islands, a group in Disco Bay, lay spread out as it were on a map. Hundreds of icebergs dotted the perfectly placid sea, and beyond them we could plainly discern the great ice fiord of Jacobshavn with its gigantic discharging glacier behind, and the mouth of its fiord almost choked with huge fragments of ice, children of that same glacier. At brief intervals a noise as of thunder or distant artillery announced the disruption, or creation, of one of these wonderful islands of ice.
We were not, however, allowed to enjoy this glorious scene in quietness. Our pleasure was marred by the attacks of swarms of musquitoes. These irritating insects assailed us on first landing, and persecuted us incessantly until we were again afloat.
| “A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe us molest, All striving to infixe their feeble stinges, That from their noyance we nowhere can reste.” |
It was indeed hard to meet so far in the icy north our implacable enemies of the tropics!
The descent was as dangerous, though perhaps not so laborious as the ascent. Occasionally we were able to avail ourselves of patches of snow, down which we slid, much to the astonishment and discomfiture of my dog Nellie, who was at a loss to understand the means of our rapid progress, and who rushed down after us barking frantically.
We were excessively fortunate in our weather during our brief stay at Godhavn. We rejoiced in ceaseless sunshine, which lit up the surrounding hills with a golden light, throwing deep dark shadows into the valleys and ravines by which they were intersected, whilst the bright rays of the sun glittering on the ice-strewn surface of the sea formed a scene at once novel and sublime.
Our short stay at Godhavn will, I think, always be regarded with pleasure by the members of the expedition. Nothing could exceed the kindness we received and the hospitality that was extended to us by the good people on shore, who appeared to vie with each other in their endeavours to render our visit an agreeable one. Nor was it only from the inhabitants that we received so much kindness. The captain, officers, and indeed I may say the ship’s company of the “Valorous” were unremitting in their exertions to provide us with every necessary that it was in their power to supply, for the furtherance of the arduous service in which we were so soon to be engaged, depriving themselves of many things that they thought would add to our comfort.
Although the Eskimos, according to Dr. Rink, and we can have no better authority respecting the natives of Greenland, have a pretty fair talent for writing and drawing, scarcely any traces of sculpture belonging to earlier times remain, with the exception of a few small images cut out in wood or bone, which had probably served children as playthings. Notwithstanding the want of means for handing down to posterity and retaining historical events amongst this interesting people, many traditions and legends have been preserved. Among the number is one relating to this island of Disco. It was supposed to have been situated off the southern coast of Greenland, and in consequence of its cutting off the inhabitants of the mainland from the open sea, a great dislike was entertained for it; for, to live comfortably, an Eskimo must be in the vicinity of the sea, so as to follow his usual avocation of seal hunting.
The story relates that two old men, having set their wise heads together, determined to attempt the removal of the island with the aid of magic. A third old gentleman, however, desired to retain it in its position. The first two, launching their kayaks, fastened the hair of a little child to the island wherewith to tow it by; whilst the other, from the shore, attempted to keep it back by means of a sealskin thong. Desperately did the two kayakers labour at their paddles in their endeavours to move the island, chanting their spells as they tugged at the hair. But as resolutely did the third man hold on to his thong, straining every nerve to render their exertions abortive; suddenly, to his chagrin, the thong parted, and the island floated off, and was towed away triumphantly to the northward, where it was deposited in its present position.
Another tradition says it was removed from Baal’s River to its present site by a famous angekok, or magician, and that the harbour of Godhavn is the actual hole in the island to which the tow rope was fastened.
On the afternoon of July the 15th, amidst much firing of guns and dipping of flags, the little squadron steamed out of the harbour, threading its way through innumerable icebergs, and passing along the high snow-clad hills that adorn the southern end of the island of Disco, proceeded towards the settlement of Ritenbenk, at which we arrived the following morning. The scenery as we approached the anchorage was truly magnificent. Lofty hills encompassed us on either hand, down whose steep sides the water was pouring in rapid cascades, produced by the thawing of the snow on their summits. How full of life and joy appeared these bright sparkling streams as they seemed to chase each other in wanton sport, skipping from rock to crag in their headlong career, until lost in one large sheet of glistening spray that poured over the edge of a precipitous cliff into the clear still water at its base!
Thousands of birds congregate along the inaccessible ledges of these cliffs, perched in such precise order, and having such a uniformity of colour, that they resemble regiments of soldiers drawn up in readiness to defend their fortresses from the attacks of ruthless invaders. But fresh food was at a premium, and the wretched looms were doomed to suffer a long assault at the hands of our energetic sportsmen.
Other and more weighty matters also required our attention. We were to bid farewell to the “Valorous” on the following morning. And with her we should lose the last connecting link with home.
Letters had to be hurriedly finished, and then we had to bid adieu to one to whose untiring energy the departure of the expedition was due, who had been mainly instrumental in obtaining the sanction of Government for its dispatch, and who, leaving the comforts of a home life, had accompanied us thus far on our journey, sharing our discomforts, but adding to our knowledge from his rich fund of information, and enlivening our mess-table with his conversation and presence.
We felt, whilst he was on board, that we were not quite separated from the civilized world. His departure made a chasm that it was difficult for some time to bridge over, but the memory of him lived long amongst us, and served to recall many a pleasant and happy hour.
At four o’clock on the morning of the 17th the “Valorous” steamed away from us on her way to the coal quarries on the north side of the island of Disco, and, two hours after, the “Discovery” and ourselves put to sea, having increased the number of our dogs by purchasing several from the natives at Ritenbenk.
The scenery in the Waigat, a strait separating the island of Disco from the mainland of Greenland, is very grand. The channel was rendered almost impassable from the number of icebergs of every fantastic form and shape that lay scattered about, and which, although adding materially to the beauty of the scene, made the passage one of no little intricacy: indeed we very narrowly escaped losing all our boats on one side of the ship by shaving a large iceberg a little too closely!
On one side were the high snow-clad hills of Disco, intersected by deep and narrow ravines, whilst on the opposite side was a bold and lofty coast with precipitous headlands ending in needle-shaped peaks and separated by glaciers and fiords. Passing the beautiful large discharging glacier of Itivdliarsuk, many minor ones opened to our view as we sailed slowly past, presenting a panorama such as it would be impossible to depict faithfully on canvas.
Several remarkable red patches, apparently of basalt, were observed on the bare gneiss hills in the vicinity of Point Kardluk, which is noted for the large quantity of vegetable fossils that have been found there, and close to the petrified forest of Atanekerdluk.
Catching sight of the “Valorous” at anchor, busily engaged in procuring coal, we endeavoured to reach her, for the purpose of sending a few stray letters that had been inadvertently left behind; but a thick fog overtaking us, we were very reluctantly compelled to relinquish all idea of communicating, and had to be satisfied with reading the signal of “farewell” and “good wishes” that she threw out. It was fortunately distinguished before the vessels were effectually concealed from each other by an impervious fog which crept over the surface of the sea, hiding everything around us, though high above our heads the mountain tops were clearly to be seen.
So dense did it become that we were, after a time, obliged to make the ships fast to icebergs to await a more favourable opportunity of advancing.
Whilst attempting to secure the ships an alarming catastrophe occurred. The boat had been dispatched containing three men with the necessary implements, such as an ice drill and anchor, for making the vessel fast.
As soon as the first blow of the drill was delivered the berg, to our horror, split in two with a loud report, one half with one of our men on it toppling completely over, whilst the other half swayed rapidly backwards and forwards. On this latter piece was another of our men, who was observed with his heels in the air, the violent agitation of the berg having precipitated him head foremost into a rent or crevasse. The water alongside was a mass of seething foam and spray; but curious to relate, the boat with the third man in it was in no way injured. They were all speedily rescued from their perilous position and brought on board, sustaining no further harm than that inflicted by a cold bath. Their escape appeared miraculous.
By the next morning we were through the Waigat Strait. Much to our disappointment the weather remained thick, and we were in consequence unable to gratify ourselves with a sight of the truly grand scenery to be found at the mouth of the Omenak fiord, which possesses some of the largest discharging glaciers in Greenland.
On the night of the 19th both vessels came to an anchor off the Danish settlement of Proven.
The harbour, which is small, is formed by two islands. On the western side of the easternmost of the two is situated the quaintest of quaint little settlements. It consists of a neat little church, the Governor’s residence, the storehouse, boiling down establishment, smithy, about two other wooden habitations, and some igdlus, or Eskimo huts. Of course it boasts its flagstaff and battery of three guns. The Governor, who, in his endeavour to be civil, had boarded us before anchoring, apologized for not saluting, saying “that though he had the guns he had no artillerists.” Although it was midnight before we arrived, the inhabitants were lining the side of the hill as we entered, the white boots and fur jackets and short trousers of the women affording a very novel though picturesque scene.
The dogs on shore, evidently annoyed at being disturbed in their slumbers, set up a fearful howling, which, being answered by the dogs in both ships, produced a most unpleasant and discordant concert. The natives have a saying, when the dogs make this noise, “that they are holding their parliament.” This is hardly flattering to the Greenland senate!
During our short stay at this place a rough survey of the harbour was taken, and a number of scientific observations were made.
Nothing could be kinder or more friendly than the reception met with from all on shore. In the Governor’s good wife I recognized an old acquaintance whom I had had the pleasure of meeting on a former occasion during a cruise in a whaler to these regions.
Here also we succeeded in engaging the services of Hans Hendrik, an Eskimo, as dog-driver and hunter. This man had been employed in the same capacity in all the American expeditions to Smith’s Sound, and was an invaluable acquisition.
Our men enjoyed themselves every evening during our stay, dancing to their hearts’ content.
My black retriever, Nellie, was a great object of admiration amongst the inhabitants, one man especially being very pertinacious in his request that she might be presented to him. On inquiring to what use he would put her, I was informed that my faithful companion would be converted into food for the man’s oily-faced family, whilst her beautiful black curly coat would serve to adorn his wife’s person. Nellie, I think, had some notion of the designs on her life and skin, as in future she always regarded with disfavour not only the Eskimos themselves, but also their dogs and everything belonging to them.
Leaving Proven on the evening of the 21st of July, we arrived on the same night off a remarkable headland called “Sanderson, his hope.” It was so named by old John Davis, after his friend and patron, Mr. W. Sanderson, in 1587, and was the extreme northern point reached by him during his third voyage.1
This prominent and precipitous cliff is a famous place for looms, as those white-breasted guillemots are termed, which are considered such rare delicacies on an Arctic table. They are the Uria Brunnichii of naturalists, and are numerous in sub-Arctic regions. Their favourite breeding-places are along these terraced cliffs, where they assemble in large quantities.
Of course so favourable an opportunity of procuring fresh food was not to be disregarded. The ships were hove to, and the boats, crammed with eager sportsmen, dispatched for the purpose of shooting for the “pot.”
Myriads of these birds were congregated along the face of the steep precipitous cliffs, in some places almost overhanging, which rose abruptly to an altitude of about a thousand feet. Owing, however, to the unsteadiness of the boats, caused by the roughness of the sea, our “bag” did not realize our anticipations. Many of the birds that were shot remained on the inaccessible ledges of the rocks, and were therefore lost to us; and many fell into the sea beyond, and were no more seen.
The midnight sun was shining brightly during this battue, and we returned to the ship, after a couple of hours’ sport, the richer by one hundred and seventy birds, each equal in weight to a fair-sized duck. For the succeeding three or four days we revelled in “loom soup,” “loom pie,” or “roast loom,” and looms cooked in every imaginable form. No matter how they were served up, they were always pronounced to be delicious. Indeed, one of my messmates went so far as to say that he had never tasted anything better in his life. In fact, for the purpose of thoroughly enjoying a good dinner, a trip to the Arctic regions is indispensable!
On the following morning we anchored off Upernivik,2 the most northern settlement but one in Greenland. It is situated on one of the Woman Islands, so named by Baffin in 1616. The usual kindness and hospitality were extended to us here, as at all the other Danish settlements visited. We also received important information concerning the state of the ice to the northward, with a tabulated statement of all the meteorological observations obtained during the previous winter, a study of which would be of the greatest importance to us.
In the evening, taking the “Discovery” in tow, we again put to sea, this time finally bidding farewell to civilization. From henceforth our energies and our thoughts must turn Polewards.
As the last glimpse of the little church was shut out from our view, many a prayer was silently offered to Him in his infinite mercy to protect and guide us in our endeavours, and to vouchsafe us a safe return again to home and civilization.
1 On his return to England he wrote to his friend, saying, “I have been in 73°, finding the sea all open and forty leagues between land and land. The passage (the N.W.) is most probable, the execution easie, as at my coming you shall fully knowe.”
2 It is sometimes spelt Uppernavik. But Upernivik is the correct form. See Rink, p. 354. It means spring in the Eskimo language. Upernivik is in 72° 48′ N. The most northern Danish station is Tasiusak, in 73° 24′ N.
CHAPTER IV.
MELVILLE BAY AND THE NORTH WATER.
| “Embark with me, while I new tracts explore, With flying sails and breezes from the shore. Not that my song, in such a scanty space, So large a subject fully can embrace. Not though I were supplied with iron lungs, A hundred mouths, filled with as many tongues. But steer my vessel with a steady hand, And coast along the shore in sight of land. Nor will I try thy patience with a train Of preface, or what ancient poets feign.” Virgil. |
Threading our way through narrow passages between numerous islands that lay to the eastward of Upernivik, and trusting to the knowledge and guidance of an Eskimo pilot, we felt at length that we had in reality, seen the last for some time, of our fellow men, and that our struggle with the almost insuperable difficulties of the frozen north was about to commence.
Preparations for an unsuccessful combat with the ice were made, and every precaution was adopted necessary to ensure the safety of the men, in cases of extreme emergency. The boats were prepared for immediate service, each man having his allotted station, so that little or no confusion would ensue if the abandonment of the ships should be decided upon—an event that was by no means improbable. Ice-saw crews were organized in readiness for cutting a dock, in case such a proceeding should become necessary for the protection of the vessels. Provisions and clothes were so arranged along the upper deck that they could easily and readily be thrown out on the ice at a moment’s notice. Knapsacks, each containing two pairs of blanket wrappers, one pair of hose, one pair of stockings, one pair of mitts, one pair of drawers, a Welsh wig, a jersey, a comforter, a pair of moccasins, a towel and small piece of soap, were packed and placed in some handy position where they could be reached without delay. The necessary tackles for lifting the screw and unshipping the rudder were provided: in fact every preparation was made that could possibly be thought of to guard against accidents and to promote success in the forthcoming conflict.
On the morning after leaving Upernivik, on account of a dense fog, it was determined to anchor off one of the small islands composing a group through which we were passing, in order to wait for finer weather.
Our pilot, getting into his kayak, offered to pioneer us into a little bay with which he was intimately acquainted. Being totally unable to realize the difference of size between the large unwieldy “Alert” and his own frail little bark, and probably imagining that where he was able to go in his tiny boat, we also could do the same, he led us close in to the land, which, on account of the thick fog, was hidden from our view, and we soon had the annoyance of finding our ship hard and fast on shore. Fortunately we were going very slow at the time, so that no injury was sustained; but we remained immoveable for many hours until the flood-tide floated us and enabled us once more to proceed.
The dangers connected with a passage through Melville Bay are now so well known to all who have taken any interest in Arctic affairs, or who have devoted any time to the perusal of Arctic literature, that it is needless for me either to explain or dwell upon them at any length. Many a well-equipped ship has been caught in the fatal embrace of this bay. What tales of woe and disaster could its icy waters unfold, coupled, however, with deeds of heroic daring, endurance, and suffering!
Captain Nares, determining to avoid the ordinary passage through this once dreaded bay, the dangers of which in these days of steam have been so materially lessened, pushed his ships boldly through what is generally termed the “middle ice.” This, at such a late season of the year, is undoubtedly a wise course; but woe to the unfortunate ship that at an earlier period should be caught in this moving pack, and be there detained for thirteen or fourteen months, as the little “Fox” was, under the command of Sir Leopold McClintock!
If the pack is composed of loose light ice, such as we found it to be, rendering a passage through it one of no difficulty, it may also be presumed that the ice in Melville Bay at the same time would be of the same consistency, thereby also affording an easy and safe passage through.
The reason that the passage by Melville Bay is always taken by the whalers is the existence of fixed land ice, which is found adhering to the shores, and in which it is easy to cut a dock for the preservation of the ship if the heavy pack is forced by wind, or otherwise, towards it, thereby endangering any vessel that may happen to be between the two. Directly the pack moves off the vessel is liberated and proceeds on her voyage.
It would be very different if the ship was caught in the pack. Then she would, in all probability, be severely handled, and being beset would drift to the southward with the ice and thereby lose all the hard-fought ground gained with so much labour and fatigue.
One of the most important maxims in ice navigation, which is strictly followed out by the whalers, is “stick to the land-ice.”
We were certainly extremely fortunate in finding the pack so “loose” as to give us little trouble or difficulty in making progress. The ice was of a soft “brashy” nature, apparently only of one year’s formation, and only from one to three feet in thickness. The weather being fine and calm, advantage was taken of it to steam full speed, for there was no saying how quickly the ice might pack with even a light breeze. The tow rope was accordingly cast off, and we proceeded at our highest rate of speed with the “Discovery” following close at our heels.
Occasionally our progress would be checked by a stream of ice extending across the lane of water through which we were steering; but through these obstructions we bored, or charged them at full speed, and thus cleared a way. A walrus and a few seals were seen on the ice, but their capture did not hold out sufficient inducement to detain the ship.
Very different from the apathy shown on passing these animals was the excitement exhibited when a bear, a veritable Polar bear, was seen on the ice. Such a rush for rifles and weapons of all descriptions! It was the first and only bear seen, and therefore the excitement its presence caused was natural. Every one appeared to share in it. Bear-skins were certainly on that day at a premium, for all were eager and anxious to become the fortunate possessor of such a prize. Master Bruin, however, did not reciprocate this feeling, and evinced an equal amount of anxiety to retain his nice warm coat.
The engines were immediately stopped, and the boats crammed with volunteer hunters. These landing on the ice, advanced upon their quarry in skirmishing order, while the ship, steaming round to the opposite side of the floe, endeavoured to cut off his retreat. All was ineffectual. Bruin’s strategic abilities were of too high an order for us to cope successfully with him in his own territories, and he escaped. Many rounds of ammunition, however, were fired at him both from the party on shore and also by those on board the ship, in the faint hope that a lucky shot might bring him down. To this day there are many who seriously believe that he carried away with him a portion of the bullets they so lavishly expended. So keen were some in the ardour and excitement of the chase that they rushed on, heedless of the rotten and treacherous nature of the ice, until an immersion in the cold water brought them to a sense of their danger and compelled them to seek refuge on board the ship, wet, cold, and uncomfortable. Many little rotges (Alca alle) were flitting about from the ice to the water, and the beautiful ivory gull (Larus eburneus) was also seen for the first time.
| POLAR BEARS. |
In thirty-four hours from first encountering the ice we reached the North Water, and our troubles were for a time at an end. It was an unprecedented passage. Only seventy hours from Upernivik to Cape York!
Melville Bay, with all its terrors, was behind us; a beautifully smooth unruffled sea, devoid of all ice, was in front; everything pointed to success, and the hearts of all in the expedition beat high with joy and delight at the speedy prospect of attaining the utmost realization of their hopes. Large icebergs were around us in every direction; but what cared we then for icebergs? We had continuous day; the North Water had been reached; our way lay northwards. In a few short days the entrance of Smith Sound would be reached, the threshold of the unknown region crossed, and then onwards to—where? We did not dare to anticipate, but we felt that the first step towards success had been gained, and that we had commenced our real work under most propitious circumstances. We would not predict, but we determined to deserve, success.
It was, for many reasons, a matter of congratulation that this “North Water” had been so speedily and so successfully reached. Instead of only two or three weeks of the navigable season being available for us to penetrate the hidden mysteries of Smith Sound, owing to our rapid passage, we could reckon upon a clear month or five weeks before being compelled to secure our ship in winter quarters; besides which, our fuel had been very materially saved by this quick run, and this in itself, to ships situated as we were, was no unimportant matter.
On reaching the neighbourhood of Cape York, the “Discovery” was ordered to proceed shorewards for the purpose of communicating with the natives (the Arctic Highlanders of Sir John Ross), in the hope of inducing one of their number, a brother-in-law of Hans, to accompany the expedition; the “Alert” in the mean time shaping a course to the Cary Islands, at which latter place the “Discovery” was ordered to rejoin us.
The scenery, as we steamed along at a distance of about two miles from the shore, was most interesting. The hills along the coast were entirely clad with snow, whilst the long undulating ranges, as they receded far back to the horizon, appeared to be buried under the everlasting mer de glace. Numerous glaciers of various sizes, some of them being discharging ones, rolled down to the water’s edge in one vast icy sheet. The width of one of these, the Petowik Glacier, is fully seven miles. Fragments from these lay scattered along the coast in every direction, whilst we had to thread our way through clusters of huge bergs of every form and size. Passing the crimson cliffs of Beverley, we were able to distinguish, in a few small patches, the so-called coloured snow whence the name originates; but not in the highly imaginative mass of bright colour depicted by Sir John Ross, in his interesting illustrated work describing his voyage to Baffin Bay. The question of the nature of this colouring matter on snow has now been definitely set at rest. It is an alga, the Protococcus nivalis.
We did not reach the Cary Islands so soon as we expected, in consequence of experiencing a strong S.E. current that had not been anticipated. A sudden rise of temperature of the surface water naturally led us to suppose that it must be due to the absence of ice, which, raising our spirits, made us regard with displeasure any hindrance to our progress.
Arriving off the Cary group early on the morning of the 27th, we were detained for a few hours landing a boat with a large depôt of provisions, sufficient to sustain 60 men for two months, or 120 men for one month. The depôt was placed on the easternmost island, and a large cairn was erected on the highest and most prominent point. Here also were deposited the last home letters which our friends were destined to receive until after our own arrival in England.
The depôt was established as a safeguard for us to fall back upon in case of any accident happening to our vessels in Smith Sound. From this position it was expected that a party duly provisioned would have little difficulty in reaching the northern Greenland settlements, or at any rate the simple but hospitable natives of Cape York, who would, it was anticipated, afford us protection and assistance. This duty having been accomplished, and having been rejoined by our consort, the northward course was resumed.1
Crossing over to the eastward we steamed along on that beautifully clear sunny morning within a short distance of the western shores of Greenland. With the exception of icebergs, not a speck of ice was to be seen to disturb the smooth glassy surface of the sea. Passing the mouth of Whale Sound we made rapid progress northwards, steering between Northumberland and Hakluyt Islands, almost under their steep, precipitous, and in some places overhanging cliffs; on past Murchison Sound with the Crystal Palace glacier ahead, whilst on our port bow was easily discernible the opposite coast of Ellesmere Land, with the Prince of Wales Mountains, covered with snow or ice, rising above the western horizon.
It was indeed a glorious sight as we passed close to this little known land, opening out, as we proceeded, its many and large glaciers glittering white and radiant in the sunshine, growing, as it were, out of the clouds and rolling down grandly towards the sea, until the opaque masses plunged sullenly and silently into the deep blue water.
Animal life, so far as the feathered tribes were concerned, appeared in abundance. The lively little rotges or little auks (Alca alle) were seen in frequent clusters diving quickly under water as the ship approached. Looms (Uria Brunnichii), dovekies (Uria grylle), and king-ducks (Somateria spectabilis), alarmed at our appearance, rose in long flights, and circled around us uttering their discordant cries. The glaucous gull and the pretty kittiwake (Larus tridactylus) soared above our heads, whilst occasionally a graceful ivory gull (Larus eburneus) flapped its way leisurely along, its snowy wings contrasting with the background of clear blue sky. Here and there, on small fragments of floating ice, were seen huge walruses basking in the golden sunshine. Amid such scenes, which to be realized must be seen, the two vessels wended their way towards the entrance of Smith Sound, all elated with the fair prospect that was before them and hopeful for the future.
At half-past seven on the morning of the 28th of July both ships came to an anchor in Hartstene Bay, more commonly known as Port Foulke, the harbour in which Dr. Hayes wintered in 1860.
1 The Cary Islands consist of a group of eight islands, besides small rocks or islets, and are situated in Baffin Bay, in lat. 76° 45′ N. They vary in size from two and a half miles in diameter downwards. They are composed of syenitic and porphyritic granite, overlaid in places with gneiss. They rise to a height of about 400 feet above the level of the sea, and possess a luxuriant vegetation, at least for these regions. They are much frequented as breeding places by the eider-ducks and looms.
CHAPTER V.
SMITH SOUND.
| “Now far he sweeps, where scarce a summer smiles, On Behring’s rocks, or Greenland’s naked isles. Cold on his midnight watch the breezes blow, From wastes that slumber in eternal snow, And waft across the waves’ tumultuous roar The wolf’s long howl from Oonalaska’s shore.” Campbell. |
No sooner were the ships secured and breakfast discussed, than there was a regular rush for the shore. Some went for a scramble over the neighbouring glacier, named by Dr. Kane, “My brother John’s glacier;” some went to collect specimens; others to take various scientific observations; and others to hunt and shoot—this spot having been found wonderfully prolific of game, more especially of reindeer, during Dr. Hayes’s stay. No signs of any inhabitants were visible. This surprised us, as we were fully expecting to meet the natives of the village of Etah, situated only a couple of miles from the anchorage. A visit to the village during the course of the day proved the huts to be standing, but quite deserted. Traces of their having been recently inhabited were manifest, and portions of seal and walrus meat were discovered in caches, as if the migration was only temporary and a return was meditated. No other signs, however, of any living human being were found.
Leaving to others the exploration of the country in the immediate vicinity of the harbour, Captain Nares and myself started, in one of the whale-boats, with four men, for the purpose of visiting Life-boat Cove, where some of the officers and crew of the “Polaris” spent their second winter, 1872–3, and also to search for an iron boat on Littleton Island, said to have been left there by Dr. Hayes in 1860.
Sailing round Sunrise Point, we encountered a fresh northerly wind dead in our teeth, against which, under oars, we made but slow progress, whilst the cold spray flew aft into our faces where it almost froze. After about five hours’ hard pulling Life-boat Cove was reached, and very glad we all were to get on shore and stretch our legs and restore the circulation of our blood.
Immediately on landing we met with traces of the late occupants. These consisted of a large cairn—which, however, had been demolished by others previous to our arrival, probably by the searching expedition sent out in the “Tigress” in 1873—a basket lined with tin, and a trunk, neither of which contained anything of importance; indeed, their contents and the strong odour pervading them convinced us that they were now the property of Eskimos. Strolling on a little further, a boat was seen, which, although somewhat of European shape, appeared to be of Eskimo construction, as it was simply a framework covered with skins; yet it was undoubtedly built under a white man’s superintendence.
Continuing to advance until we reached the western extreme of the spit of land on which we had landed, we conjectured, from the amount of débris by which we were surrounded, although no remains of a house were visible, that we were on the site of the Americans’ winter quarters. Trunks, boxes, stoves, pieces of wood, gun-barrels, and odds and ends of all descriptions lay strewed about over an area of half a square mile—a desolate scene of ruin and misery!
Some of the boxes were marked with the names of their previous owners, and contained, amongst other things, books, principally relating to the Arctic regions. One trunk contained a few small articles of female apparel, such as a lace collar and black veil, and some faded ribbons; souvenirs from some fair damsel at home, which had probably, from the thoughts their presence created, beguiled many a long and lonely hour during the monotonous winter night. Numerous cairns and caches, under which were deposited lumps of seal blubber, led us to suppose that the natives intended returning, especially with such a mine of wealth to attract them as an abundance of wood and iron, so invaluable to an Eskimo.
Two other boats were also found, constructed in the same rude manner as the first. On one was painted, in good large letters, the word MAUMOKPO; though what it meant we were at a loss to conceive, but concluded it was an Icelandic name.
Two Casella thermometers, marked as low as 130° below zero, were also picked up in perfect order. It is to be regretted that these were not self-registering maximum and minimum thermometers, as it would have been most interesting to have ascertained the greatest amount of heat and cold at this spot during a period of more than two years.
Collecting everything that we considered of the least value, such as books and instruments, for the purpose of returning them to the United States Government, and taking possession of a couple of boats, which we thought would prove useful at some of our depôts, we embarked and proceeded towards Littleton Island, with our prizes in tow. Diligent search was made for the pendulum said to have been left by the “Polaris” people, but without success: also for the box chronometers and transit instrument, but with a like result. We could only come to the conclusion that, if these articles had been left there, somebody had been before us. Every cairn and cache was thoroughly examined, and so was every nook and crannie within a radius of half a mile from where we imagined the house had originally stood. A chronometer-box was picked up, but empty.
On landing at Littleton Island a careful search was instituted for Hayes’s boat, but, although we made the complete circuit of the island, we failed to discover any traces of it whatever. At the south-west end we erected a cairn on the highest hill, about five or six hundred feet above the level of the sea, and obtained a round of angles with the theodolite. The view from the top of this hill was very cheering. Cape Sabine was distinctly visible; whilst farther to the northward could be seen the land about Cape Fraser, with no signs of ice! We were, however, too wary to indulge to excess in hopeful anticipations, knowing full well the vagaries of our capricious enemy, the ice; but still such a scene could not but tend to cheer and exhilarate, and send us back to our ship with light and buoyant hearts.
It was past midnight before we reached the “Alert.” Our sportsmen, we found, had been unsuccessful in their endeavours to shoot any reindeer; one, however, fell to the rifle of an officer of the “Discovery.” Very few were seen, and those so wild as to render an approach within range no easy matter. Several ducks and a few hares, however, were obtained.
Leaving Port Foulke on the following morning, we crossed over to the west side, and erected a large cairn on the summit of Cape Isabella, about one thousand feet above the level of the sea. The ascent of this headland was both arduous and dangerous. The face of the cliff was very precipitous, and it was only by a zig-zag course that it could be effected. At one moment the way led over loose shingle, that gave way under the feet at every step; at another over a broad patch of frozen snow, one false step on whose slippery surface would precipitate one many hundred feet below; and at another we were clinging desperately with hands and feet to the hard, smooth, syenitic granite rocks, of which this cape is composed. Very thankful were we when the summit was reached; but much more so when we found ourselves again at its base, sound in wind and limb. To add to the difficulties, there was a high wind and dense snowstorm.
At a less high elevation, and in a secure niche amongst the rocks, were deposited an empty cask and about one hundred and fifty pounds of preserved beef. The cask was intended for the reception of any letters that might be brought up by a Government ship in the following year, or by any enterprising and adventurous whaling captain who should penetrate so far in order to bring us news. The provisions were left as a small depôt for any sledging party that might be dispatched to the southward. The site was marked by a small cairn. Records were left at each of these cairns detailing the movements and the prospects of the expedition, together with instructions regarding our letters, should any be brought thus far.
Some beautiful little yellow poppies were gathered on the slopes and crests of the hill, whilst the draba and saxifrage were found growing in profusion.
The navigation of these icy seas is most uncertain! Within twenty-four hours of the time that, from the summit of Littleton Island, we had been cheered by the view of an apparently open sea free of ice, and extending in our imagination for miles to the northward, we were battling with the pack, consisting of large floes and loose broken-up fields, that extended on both sides of us and as far north as we could see. From this period our troubles commenced; from this date our progress was one endless and unceasing struggle with the ice: ever on the watch, and never allowing a favourable opportunity to pass unheeded.
Shortly after leaving Cape Isabella the ice was observed stretching across Baird Inlet—the fixed land ice with loose detached streams. As we proceeded more ice was seen, which by degrees completely surrounded us, and we only succeeded, after much boring and charging, in forcing a way through, and into a well-protected little harbour to the southward of Cape Sabine. This bay was formed by a deep indentation in the land having a long jutting-out spit to the S.E. which acted as a famous breakwater, and was protected seawards by Brevoort Island. Here we were detained for five days, although several attempts were made to proceed, which resulted in one instance in a hopeless besetment in the ice for some hours. The pack was impenetrable; our only hope was to wait patiently for a strong wind to open out a passage. The place was in consequence called “Bide-a-wee” Harbour, subsequently changed to Payer Harbour, after the distinguished Austrian Arctic explorer of that name.
During our detention the time of the officers was not unprofitably spent. A rough survey of the place was made, its position was correctly ascertained, a series of magnetic observations were obtained, and long walks were taken in the neighbourhood, during which a large and rich collection was made in the interests of geology and botany. No game of any description was seen. Traces of Eskimo were discovered, but evidently of an ancient date. They consisted of the remains of igdlus or huts, also some bone spear-heads, and the runners and cross-bars of a sledge.1 Tidal observations were also taken in the harbour.
Here also, it may be said, we received our first lessons in the art of sledging; for, wishing to be initiated into its mysteries, a party, consisting of four officers and five men dragging one of our large twenty-feet ice boats on a sledge, started to travel over the pack. Our main object was of course to derive some practical experience in this all-important mode of Arctic exploration, and in this, I think, we succeeded.
We found the ice exceedingly hummocky, with narrow water spaces between, just too broad to admit of our jumping over, yet not sufficiently wide to launch the boat into. So rough was the road that at one time the bows of the boat would be seen rising almost perpendicularly in the air, whilst all hands were engaged in long-standing pulls on the drag-ropes to the tune of “one, two, three, haul;” at another time the sledge would come down the side of a hummock with such rapidity as to give us hardly time to spring out of the way to avoid the sledge and boat coming over us, and many were the falls in consequence. It was, however, rare fun. Once while launching the boat into a pool of water she nearly capsized; as it was she half filled, and everything inside—provisions, clothes, instruments, guns, and ammunition—was thoroughly saturated. A gold watch that happened to be in a coat pocket was not improved by its immersion.
Another source of amusement during our stay in this harbour was chasing “unies,” as narwhals are invariably called by the whalers; but, although a good deal of patience and perseverance was displayed in attempts to harpoon them, these qualities were never rewarded, and the boats always returned unsuccessful from their pursuit.
Our little check in this harbour produced a slight despondency in those who, for the previous few days, had been most sanguine of pushing on. This was always alluded to in the ward-room as the depression of the social barometer, and was for the future daily registered!
On the morning of the 4th of August, a southerly gale having blown all the previous night, a channel of open water was visible as far as Cape Sabine. This was an opportunity not to be lost. Accordingly, at 4 A.M., the anchors were weighed, and, before a fresh but bitter cold wind, both ships made sail, and succeeded, after having made so many futile attempts, in rounding the Cape. Bearing away to the westward we steered up Hayes Sound, keeping close in to the land, the grounded icebergs giving us timely notice of shoal water. At noon, opening a perfectly land-locked bay, and the ice being so closely packed ahead as to defy farther progress, the vessels were steered for the entrance, and we soon found ourselves in a beautiful inlet enclosed by high land, but bounded on one side by one of the grandest sights it is possible to behold: two enormous glaciers coming from different directions, but converging at their termination. They reminded us of two huge giants silently attempting to push and force each other away.
It was indeed a noble sight, and filled us with impatient curiosity for the moment when we could land and indulge in a closer inspection.
Accordingly, the anchors were no sooner let go than several started for the purpose of paying it a visit. Landing abreast of the ship, we had rather a rough and tumble sort of a scramble over loose masses of gneiss, until we emerged on the banks of the bed of the glacier—that is, the bed formed by the water running from the glacier during the summer thaws. The walking was most laborious, at one moment through a wet swampy bog, and at another over rough sharp-pointed stones.
The vegetation appeared luxuriant, and we found the traces of musk-oxen, reindeer, wolves, foxes, and hares in abundance; but, although we were provided with guns, we failed to secure any game, for the simple reason that we saw none. But the traces of musk-oxen were very fresh, and several horns of the reindeer were picked up. After a tedious walk of about four or five miles we arrived at the glacier—the stupendous and sublime work of ages. How insignificant and despicable did we appear in comparison to this gigantic creation of Nature! I can compare it to nothing except, perhaps, a frozen Niagara! The left-hand glacier was rounded off, like a huge icy wave to its end, whilst it receded from our view in long milky undulations until lost in the clouds. The right-hand one—the lateral and terminal sides of which were quite precipitous—was pressing against its neighbour until it had raised a slight ridge between the two. We were naturally desirous of ascending one or both of these glaciers, but time would not admit of such an undertaking, and we were therefore compelled to content ourselves by standing upon a small projection of each glacier, so as to be able to say that we had been on them.
That Eskimos had visited this locality was certain; for we discovered on our way out the site of an old settlement, and on the way back we observed two large cairns that had evidently been used as caches.
Alexandra Bay and Twin Glacier Valley, as they were henceforth designated, were the nearest approach to an Arctic paradise that we saw during our sojourn in the Polar Regions. A sheltered and well-protected harbour, with a locality abounding in game of various descriptions, are of such importance that it is impossible to prize them too highly. They should be the first and grand objects to be taken into consideration whilst selecting a spot for winter quarters.
Although we were not fortunate in obtaining game during our stay of only a few hours in this interesting neighbourhood, I have not the slightest doubt that, had we penetrated a little farther into the interior, or had we remained here a day or two longer, we should have been rewarded by an ample supply, the traces that we observed being both numerous and recent.
From tidal observations made during our brief stay in this harbour, we found that the flood tide in Hayes Sound came from the eastward, but that the ebb coming from the westward was the strongest. Whether Hayes Sound was a strait opening out to the westward or only a deep inlet was, and remains, a matter of uncertainty.
