“The prospect,” says the distinguished naturalist, “was most extensive and grand. A fine sheltered bay was seen to the east of us; an arm of the same on the north-east; and the sea, whose glassy surface was unruffled by a breeze, formed an immense expanse on the west; the icebergs, rearing their proud crests almost to the tops of the mountains between which they were lodged, and defying the power of the solar beams, were scattered in various directions about the sea-coast and in the adjoining bays. Beds of snow and ice, filling extensive hollows and giving an enamelled coat to adjoining valleys, one of which, commencing at the foot of the mountain where we stood, extended in a continued line towards the north as far as the eye could reach; mountain rising above mountain, until by distance they dwindled into insignificance; the whole contrasted by a cloudless canopy of deepest azure, and enlightened by the rays of a blazing sun, and the effect aided by a feeling of danger—seated, as we were, on the pinnacle of a rock, almost surrounded by tremendous precipices; all united to constitute a picture singularly sublime.
“Our descent we found really a very hazardous, and in some instances a painful undertaking. Every movement was a work of deliberation. Having, by much care and with some anxiety, made good our descent to the top of the secondary hills, we took our way down one of the steepest banks, and slid forward with great facility in a sitting posture. Towards the foot of the hill an expanse of snow stretched across the line of descent. This being loose and soft, we entered upon it without fear, but on reaching the middle of it, we came to a surface of solid ice, perhaps a hundred yards across, over which we launched with astonishing velocity, but happily escaped without injury. The men, whom we left below, viewed this latter movement with astonishment and fear.”
After this perilous descent, Scoresby continued his excursion on the flat land next the sea, where he found scattered here and there many skulls and other bones of sea-horses, whales, narwhals, foxes, and seals. Two Russian lodges, formed of logs of pine, with a third in ruins, were also seen; the former, from a quantity of fresh chips about them and other appearances, gave evidence of having been recently inhabited. These huts were built upon a ridge of shingle adjoining the sea. Among the boulders heaped upon the shore, numerous sea-birds had built their nests or laid their eggs, which they defended with loud cries and determined courage against the attacks of gulls. The only insect he perceived was a small green fly, but the water along the coast was filled with medusæ and shrimps. The strong north-west winds had covered the strand with large heaps of Fucus vesiculosus and Laminaria saccharina, the same which the storms also cast out upon our shores.
The view of this high northern life was extremely interesting, but Dr. Scoresby was still further rewarded by the discovery of a dead whale, found stranded on the beach, which, though much swollen and not a little putrid, proved a prize worth at least £400. By a harpoon found in its body, it appeared to have been struck by some of the fishers on the Elbe, and having escaped from them, it had probably stranded itself on the spot where it was found. When the first incision was made, the oil gushed forth like a fountain. It was a slow and laborious work to transport the blubber to the ship, which on account of the dangerous nature of the coast was obliged to remain two miles off at sea. After five boat-loads had safely been brought on board, the wind suddenly changed, so that the ship was driven far out to sea, and the boat reached her with great difficulty.
Of the numerous fjords of Spitzbergen, once the busy resort of whole fleets of whalers, and now but rarely visited by man, none has been more accurately described by modern Arctic voyagers than the magnificent harbor of Magdalena Bay. Here the Dorothea and the Trent anchored in 1818, on their way to the North Pole; here also the French naturalists, who had been sent out in the corvette La Recherche (1835–36) to explore the high northern latitudes, sojourned for several weeks.
The number of the sea-birds is truly astonishing. On the ledges of a high rock at the head of the bay Beechey saw the little auks (Arctica alle) extend in an uninterrupted line full three miles in length, and so closely congregated that about thirty fell at a single shot. He estimated their numbers at about 4,000,000. When they took flight they darkened the air; and at the distance of four miles their chorus could distinctly be heard.
71. MAGDALENA BAY, SPITZBERGEN.
On a fine summer’s day, the bellowing of the walruses and the hoarse bark of the seals are mingled with the shrill notes of the auks, divers, and gulls. Although all these tones produce a by no means harmonious concert, yet they have a pleasing effect, as denoting the happy feelings of so many creatures. When the sun verges to the pole, every animal becomes mute, and a silence broken only by the bursting of a glacier reigns over the whole bay—a remarkable contrast to the tropical regions, where Nature enjoys her repose during the noonday heat, and it is only after sunset that life awakens in the forest and the field.
Four glaciers reach down this noble inlet: one, called the Wagon Way, is 7000 feet across at its terminal cliff, which is 300 feet high, presenting a magnificent wall of ice. But the whole scene is constructed on so colossal a scale that it is only on a near approach that the glaciers of Magdalena Bay appear in all their imposing grandeur. In clear weather the joint effect of the ice under the water, and the reflection of the glacier-wall above, causes a remarkable optical delusion. The water assumes a milk-white color, the seals appear to gambol in a thick cream-like liquid, and the error only becomes apparent when, on leaning over the side of the boat, the spectator looks down into the transparent depth below.