Through the first Antarctic night, 1898-1899

by Frederick Albert Cook

Brooklyn Island.

We spent the afternoon surveying this coast, and at 5 o’clock we were off the rounded peak (Mount Allo) which we first saw on the 23d. We then steamed again for the little island (Auguste) upon which we made our first debarkment. Here we rested under steam for the few hours of twilight, during the midnight hours, and on the 26th a number of sights were made for triangulation. The morning of the 27th was spent in a similar way. In the afternoon we steamed south to a number of small rocks (Gaston Islands), which we thought might be the islands laid down by Larsen on the east coast. Larsen claimed to have looked northward from his islands without seeing land, but we found it otherwise. The day was hazy, and, though the ice-wall of the coast was constantly visible, the interior of the country to both sides of us was obscured under clouds. A debarkment was made on one of the supposed Larsen Islands. They were three in number, of irregular shape and in size; the largest was not more than a mile in its longest diameter. The two largest islands had, in the centre, cone-like peaks of bare rocks, from which an ice-mantle spread out to the shore line, as it does on all the antarctic islands. The smallest one upon which we landed was not more than a half mile wide and three quarters of a mile long. There was about it nothing to indicate land except a shelf of volcanic rocks upon which we placed the geologist with his hammer, while the boat withdrew to keep from being dashed to pieces on the rocks. The tide was low, and if Arctowski had been left there, or if our boat had been lost, we should have been forced to climb a vertical cliff of ice one hundred feet high, or take to the rising sea of ice-water, as did the seals and penguins. Neither prospect seemed agreeable, and the danger of falling ice from the cliffs was such that we soon returned to the ship. The haze of the morning thickened to a dense fog, which entirely blocked out our view of the main shore-lines on both sides. We steamed westerly in a line over which the channel seemed to open into a large body of water.

The prevailing query on board was, “Is this the Pacific or the Atlantic?”

The weather continuing foggy, we took advantage of the time to augment our water supply. Up to this time we had made eight debarkments, but found no place where fresh water could be taken. There were about us a large number of icebergs. One of these offered an even side as a dock, and to this we attempted to anchor the Belgica that we might secure ice from it, which could be melted and put into our tanks. The ship was taken to the side, while men with ice anchors and axes mounted to the berg. The men succeeded in placing the anchors, and also chopped a supply of ice; but the motion of the berg was such that it nearly stove in the ribs of the vessel in the effort to load. We were compelled to cast off and leave the unruly berg. A few days later, however, we found a small glacial stream from which we secured a good supply of water, which served us for several months.

Being still unwilling to advance into the unknown region before us while enshrouded in mist, we drew near a prominent mountain peak (Cape Anna), whose front was perpendicular and free of snow to the seashore. This peak was, as we learned on the following day, one of a number extending far into the south-west. We made a debarkment at its base. Here was life in profusion, as indeed it was on every rock where life could gain a footing. The noise from the birds which re-echoed from cliff to cliff was so deafening that our attempts at conversation were inaudible. The lower rocks were lined with snoring and grunting sea-leopards. Columns of vapour rose above the water followed by a hiss like that of a steam-engine, and a second later the blue back of a whale, with its long fin and ponderous tail, lashed the water into a foamy whirlpool. The great wall of land-ice, which rose to each side of the black cliff, gave us a shelf as a landing-place, and from this wall came frequent sounds like the explosion of a cannon, each followed by a great splash and a commotion in the water. With such reports, parts of the wall would constantly break away and explode into a million pieces, strewing the water with small fragments of ice, but not with icebergs. Above us rose a cliff to an altitude of about two thousand feet; out from this were projecting mantel-like rocks, which served as resting-places for cormorants and sea-gulls. Here the young ones, dressed in gray down, coaxed their mothers for food. We expected to see the little things drop from the narrow resting-places to be destroyed on our heads or on the rocks below, but such an accident rarely happened. Our greatest surprise here was the discovery of large quantities of moss and lichens, which gave the spot an appearance of life that to us, after having seen nothing but ice and black rocks for so many days, made it a true oasis.

From this point we were able to see in a splendid manner almost the entire length of the channel explored to this time; but we had not yet been able to make a running survey of the regions in our immediate vicinity. To get a better view it was decided to ascend to the interior of the land and scale one of the noonataks. In a bay (Buls Bay) to the westward the land offered an easy slope and to it we steamed on the following day. In our preparations for this ascent we made arrangements to camp on the inland ice for a week. A tent was taken, sleeping bags, and fur clothing were gotten out, and bags of provisions were packed, all of which was lashed on two small sledges. Volunteers were called for and those who responded were Arctowski, Danco, Amundsen, and the writer. Led by Gerlache we landed late on the afternoon of the 31st on a little point of land (Cape d’Ursel) with a northern or sunny face. We climbed the steep slopes for five hundred feet, and then camped for the night. The first night was one of stormy discomfort. A wind came out of the bed of a glacier above us, against which we could hardly stand. It took two men to hold up the tent, and the combined efforts of all hands to keep from having our effects scattered over the cliffs but a few yards away. On the 1st of February we made another effort and mounted a few miles into the interior, but fog and wind and crevasses made frequent halts necessary. The sledges were heavily loaded and were difficult to drag, and altogether the work of travelling and the discomfort of camping were such that the life was generally miserable. We succeeded, however, in mounting to the peak of a noonatak, with an altitude of about fifteen hundred feet, and from there Gerlache and Danco were able to get the observations necessary for the rough survey of our surroundings. The view before us was even more beautiful, if possible, than anything we had seen since our first entrance into this new white world. To the south-west there was an opening through a new land and into a new sea, which remained for us to explore later. To the north-east, descending into the white airy distance, were the two high banks of the new highway. Before us was a small island, shaped like a biscuit, and like everything antarctic, it was covered with ice to the water’s edge. Around this berg-like island were a number of icebergs, stranded on submerged rocks, and these, by occasional mysterious explosions, sent up the noise and the commotion of a thousand cannons. The opposite shore here retreated, making two large bays. In these bays were a number of islands, beyond which we could see clearly a narrow canal. The land which spread out under the southern and eastern skies offered no promise of a passage eastward; it had a series of black cliffs parallel to the coast about five miles beyond the edge of the sea, and beyond these the white outline of the land rose into the clouds.

Lemaire Channel.

Wandel Island.