“By degrees a covering of snow at least an inch thick lies on the sack, under which we must patiently wait till the storm ceases. We scrape it away with the knife, but it soon returns again. On some occasions this snow began to melt, and penetrate the clothes, making us look like seals coming up out of the water.
“In a steadily rising temperature, too, the snow on which we lay would melt, and the sack get wet underneath, not to dry again till the summer, but freeze on the sledge in those hard folds we dreaded so much. We repeatedly felt the want of india-rubber coverings.
“This state of things often lasted from two to three days, and we waited with an indifference bordering on stupidity, sitting squeezed, with numbed hands, mending the gloves or stockings, almost freezing, masked; beards full of ice, stuffed up with a chaos of frozen clothes and boots, and, worst of all, fasting. The duration of the journey, as well as the extent of country to be explored, depended upon the use of the provisions. If, therefore, some part of the time was lost through storms, this loss, in spite of hunger, thirst, and loss of strength, could only be regained by reduced rations, which often only consisted of a thin soup.
“The saucepan has become leaky, a small sea has formed on the sack, the spirit-lamp runs, and repeatedly threatens to destroy the tent by fire, which, during the storm, would be the work of a moment. The cook grumbles, burns his fingers to-day which were frozen yesterday;—urged on by hunger, his cooking is subject to sharp criticism, as each is waiting for the eventful moment when the meal shall be ready.
“All food was frozen—even brandy began to freeze one night—meat in the tins or ham had to be chopped with the axe; butter could, without any fear, be carried in the waistcoat-pocket, to be enjoyed on the march.
“Woe to the unfortunate man who, in a lull of the storm, goes into the open air. He is almost torn to pieces, stifled by the snow-filled air, betrayed into snow-drifts, and yet not daring to open his eyes. Numbed with cold, white as a miller, he returns to the tent. Here he is a subject of horror to his neighbours in the sack, whom he intends robbing of their warmth to thaw himself. The snow-powder blown in upon the opening of the tent door has penetrated through all the clothes, and the skin has to be scraped and any frost-bites that may have set in have to be dispersed by rubbing. Indeed, the disturbance and excitement consequent upon a walk in the open air does not subside for some hours.
“But the snow-blind suffer the most from such a state of things. Out of consideration to them, smoking was dropped.
“The irritation caused by the white snowflakes, which with us are easily beaten aside, cause great suffering in Greenland, from the inflamed state of the eyes and the thick heavy atmosphere, to those who may have been unfortunate enough to break their snow-spectacles.
“Beating them off while on the march is impossible, for the damp cloth freezes at once to a lump of ice, making the eyes insupportably cold. The simple bandage, on the other hand, does not save one from the steady burning pain, which acts like needle-pricks. Opening the eye for a moment is not to be thought of. The blind are obliged to pull with the others, as the laden sledge cannot be moved but by our united strength.
“As a rule, we break up about 5 a.m. The thin black coffee is taken with some ice-cold bread-dust, which effectually destroys all its warming properties, mixed into it like a mash, and then follows laborious packing up of the clothes, in order to be prepared for all weathers. The frozen boots must first be thawed with the hands, and the folds taken out, the tent freed from snow, and beaten until pliable. The sleeping-sack receives the same treatment, which, as a sign of our disgust and its daily increasing weight from the ice, we named ‘the Walrus.’