CHAPTER XXX.
On an Ice-Raft.
A Floating Ice-Raft—The Settlement—Christmas in a New Position—Terrible Storms—Commotion under the Ice—The Floe breaks up—House Ruined—Water on the Floe—A Spectre Iceberg—Fresh Dangers and Deliverances—Drifted 1,100 Miles—Resolution to Leave the Ice—Open Water—Ice again—Tedious Progress—Reach Illuidlek Island—Welcome at the Greenland Settlements—Home in Germany—Voyage of the Germania—Discovery of Coal—A New Inlet—Home to Bremen.
Slowly but steadily their ice-field drifted to the south, and by November 3rd they had reached Scoresby’s Sound, sometimes being near the coasts and sometimes far from them. Since the ship had sunk, fourteen days before, the ice had closed in upon them, and even the blocks which had broken away from their field had frozen to it again. Their floating ice-raft was by degrees investigated in every quarter, roads cleared, and marks set up for short tours. The mass of ice was at this time about seven nautical miles in circumference, and seemed to have a diameter in all directions of over two miles. The ice-raft, on which (as Dr. Laube aptly remarked) they “were as the Lord’s passengers,” had an average thickness above the water of five feet, and they considered that there was a submergence of forty feet. “Our settlement,” says the narrative, “at the beginning of November, when we were not yet snowed up, might be seen from the most distant points of our field. Near the chief building lay two snow-houses, which served for washing and drying ourselves. Boats, heaps of wood, barrels containing coal and bacon, surrounded this heart of our colony. To prevent the entrance of the snow and wind into our coal-house, we built an entrance-hall with a winding path, and a roof constructed in the same way as that of the house.”
In November, upon a neighbouring floe, separated from them by a small interval of freshly-frozen water, they saw the shapeless body of a large walrus lying motionless as a rock. As soon as the boat could be launched several of them went in pursuit, and with a needle-gun succeeded in killing it, although in its dying struggles it tried furiously to smash the young ice on which the hunters stood, and seize them when once in the water. It took ten men with a powerful pulley several hours before they succeeded in getting the walrus out of the water on to the ice. Late that same evening a white bear, the first of their winter’s campaign, was attracted to the house by the smell of the walrus fat. Three shots greeted him, the effect of which could not be seen until the following morning. “About 100 yards distant lay the bear, hit in the head by the bullet, as if asleep, though quite dead, on the snow. It was a fine handsome beast; its well-developed head lay upon its front paws; the red drops of blood stood sharply out against the clean white snow.” It was a gift from heaven to them in their position. The four hams weighed 200 pounds.
The shortest day was passed, and still they were safe. They determined that, whether or no fated to see another Christmas, they would celebrate the present one. “In the afternoon,” says the narrative, “whilst we went for a walk, the steersman put up the Christmas-tree, and on our return the lonely coal-hut shone with wonderful brightness. Keeping Christmas on a Greenland floe! Made of pinewood and birch-broom, the tree was artistically put together. For the lights, Dr. Laube had saved some wax candles. Paper chains and [pg 264]home-baked gingerbread were not wanting. The men had made a knapsack and a revolver case for the captain; we opened the leaden box from Professor Hochstetter, and the other from the Geological Reichsanstalt, which caused much merriment. Then we had a glass of port wine, and fell upon the old newspapers in the boxes, and distributed the gifts, which consisted of small musical instruments, such as whistles, jew’s-harps, and trumpets, also little puppets and games of roulette, cracker bonbons, &c. In the evening chocolate and gingerbread nuts. ‘In quiet devotion’ (says Dr. Laube in his day-book) ‘the festival passed by; the thoughts which passed through our minds (they were much alike with all), I will not put down. If this should be the last Christmas we were to see it was at least bright enough. If, however, we are destined for a happy return home the next will be a brighter one. May God grant it!’ ”
THE SUN AT MIDNIGHT IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.
Early next morning they were awakened by a shout from the watch. They were apparently drifting to land! An island seemed to be straight ahead of them. Amid great alarm, all turned out. The air was thick, but about three miles off they could distinguish a dark mass, which looked like an island. It proved to be an enormous iceberg. Next day they passed the drifting mass, which moved much slower than their field.
On January 2nd a frightful storm arose, with driving snow. Alarming noises were [pg 265]heard under the ice. “It was a scraping, blustering, crackling, sawing, grating, and jarring sound, as if some unhappy ghost was wandering under our floe.” Perplexed, they all jumped out, but could detect no change. They lay down, and applying their ears to the floor, could hear a rustling like the singing of ice when closely jammed, and as if water were running under the floe. They felt that there was great danger of a break-up, either from being driven over sunken rocks or against the fixed ice of the coast, or, may-be, both at once, and they packed their furs and filled their knapsacks with provisions. Ropes from the house were fastened to the boats, so that in case of a catastrophe they might be able to reach them. But the driving snow was so terrible that they hardly dare move, and they passed a night of misery, expecting each minute to be their last. At nine next morning the longed-for twilight appeared, and an hour later the wind abated a little. Some of them went in the direction of the “quay,” for thus had they christened the spot, 500 steps from the house, where the sunken Hansa lay. They there found a new wall of ice, and recognised to their horror that this wall was now the boundary of their floe, whilst on all sides of it large pieces had broken off, and rose in dark shapeless masses out of the drifted snow. When, on the morning of the 4th, the storm had worn itself out, they found that their floating ice-raft had considerably diminished in size. The diameter, before over two nautical miles, had now reduced to one; on three sides the house was close to the edges, and on the fourth it was not over 1,000 steps, where it had previously been 3,000. The following days were pretty good, and they got their boats out from the snow, dug out the firewood, and employed themselves in constructing swimming-jackets and snow-shoes out of cork, the latter to prevent themselves sinking up to the hips, as they had often done before.