A Lake. The Sporting Place of Whales, Seals and Penguins.
Moonlight Photograph of the Belgica, May 20, 1898.
Outside, the conditions, for the past few days, have been more cheerful, though there is every indication of our being permanently fixed here. The nights are clearer and colder, but longer and darker, and the mercury is sinking into the bulb. When on the ship we brood over, and complain of our miserable lot, but when we stroll over the pack, interview the groups of friendly penguins, seek the company of the gregarious seals, watch the petrels dive into the icy waters, and behold the restfulness and contentment of this life within its lonely world of ice, we are encouraged to stay and experience the unknown conditions. There is now also a short glory in the sky as the sun departs, and a long scene of joy in the curious colours playing on the ice. Every day we see new charms in our surroundings, which makes us almost hope that we will stay to study the strange effects. The warm golden sunsets, followed by a long soft blue twilight, are now a daily delight. The milky white of the old floes, with the glitter of its miniature mountains, is under a thin veil of evening lilac. The new ice, which is quite as extensive as the old, takes the heavenly colours and glows in lakes of gold, while the water separating these is a most delightful azure. There is a fascination in all this; there is a spirit of contentment in the white silence, which hangs over all.
March 4.—This morning a bunch of sharp rays of light pierced my port as the sun rose over the icy stillness of the north. It was like a bundle of frosted silver wire, and it served well the purpose of an eye-opener. Sleep here is an inexpressible dream. It does not matter how difficult the work, or how great the anxiety, we sink easily into prolonged restful slumbers. We awake rested, refreshed, and full of youthful vigour, always ready for the day’s task. In the first days of our life in the pack we ate when we were hungry, slept when we were tired, and worked when the spirit moved us. (But later we were never hungry, always tired, and the spirit never moved us.)
This morning the vessel was allowed to rest quietly, though there was considerable water about. On board we are adjusting things to guard against the expected heavy seas, which we anticipate when we leave this accursed pack. At noon we took a sounding and struck bottom at 530 metres. Soon after, steam was raised and we began to ram through the ice northward. We now intended to visit Peter Island if possible. At first we made good progress. The young ice was five inches thick, but this we cut like butter. The large old floes were either pressed out of our way, or broken. There were many groups of small penguins, shedding feathers and resting with their ragged coats in the lee of hummocks. There were also many seals on the ice. On the whole, however, our hard efforts were poorly rewarded, for, after battling with the ice six hours, we had gained not more than two miles and were again as snugly beset as before.
Lichen.
(Gyrophora vellea (L.) Nyl.)
