Having taken up winter quarters at Sabine Island, September 13, Captain Koldewey and Lieutenant Payer undertook a sledge journey to Flegely Fiord. They returned to the ship September 21, after an absence of seven days, having travelled 133½ miles. The long winter passed in the usual monotonous fashion, and in preparation for the spring sledge journeys. A thrilling incident, however, occurred early in March, which is almost unprecedented in Arctic adventure.
“We were sitting,” writes Lieutenant Payer, “fortunately silent in the cabin, when Koldewey suddenly heard a faint cry for help. We all hurriedly tumbled up the companion-ladder to the deck, when an exclamation from Borgen, ‘A bear is carrying me off!’ struck painfully on our ears. It was dark; we could scarcely see anything, but we made directly for the quarter whence the cry proceeded, armed with poles, weapons, etc., over hummocks and drifts, when an alarm-shot, which we fired in the air, seemed to make some little impression, as the bear dropped his prey, and ran forward a few paces. He turned again, however, dragging his victim over the broken shore-ice, close to a field which stretched in a southerly direction. All depended upon our coming up with him before he should reach this field, as he would carry his prey over the open plain with the speed of a horse, and thus escape. We succeeded. The bear turned upon us for a moment, and then, scared by our continuous fire, let fall his prey. We lifted our poor comrade up on to the ice, to bear him to his cabin,—a task which was rendered somewhat difficult by the slippery and uneven surface of the ice. But after we had gone a little way, Borgen implored us to make as much haste as possible. On procuring a light, the coldest nature would have been shocked at the spectacle which poor Borgen presented. The bear had torn his scalp in several places, and he had received injuries in other parts of his body. His clothes and hair were saturated with blood. We improvised a couch for him in the rear of our cabin, as his own was not large enough. The first operation was performed upon him on the cabin table. And here we may briefly notice the singular fact that, although he had been carried more than 100 paces with his skull almost laid bare, at a temperature of -13° Fahrenheit, his scalp healed so perfectly that not a single portion was missing.”
Borgen describes the sudden attack of the bear as follows: “About a quarter before nine P.M. I had gone out to observe the occultation of a star, which was to take place about that time, and also to take the meteorological readings. As I was in the act of getting on shore, Captain Koldewey came on to the ice. We spoke for a few moments, when I went on shore, while he returned to the cabin. On my return from the observatory, about fifty steps from the vessel, I heard a rustling noise to the left, and became aware of the proximity of a bear. There was no time to think, or use my gun. The grip was so sudden and rapid, that I am unable to say how it was done; whether the bear rose and struck me down with his fore-paws, or whether he ran me down. But from the character of the injuries I have received (contusions and a deep cut on the left ear), I conclude that the former must have been the case. The next thing I felt was the tearing of my scalp, which was only protected by a skull cap. This is their mode of attacking seals, but, owing to the slipperiness of their skulls, the teeth glide off. The cry for help which I uttered frightened the animal for a moment; but he turned again and bit me several times on the head. The alarm had meanwhile been heard by the Captain, who had not yet reached the cabin. He hurried on deck, convinced himself that it was really an alarm, roused up the crew and hastened on to the ice, bringing assistance to his struggling comrade. The noise evidently frightened the bear, and he trotted off with his prey, which he dragged by the head. A shot fired to frighten the creature effected its purpose, inasmuch as he dropped me, and sprang a few steps aside; but he immediately seized me by the arm, and, his hold proving insufficient, he seized me by the right hand, on which was a fur glove, and this gave the pursuers time to come up with the brute, which had by its great speed left them far behind. He was now making for the shore, and would certainly have escaped with his prey, had he succeeded in climbing the bank. However, as he came to the edge of the ice, he turned along the coast side, continuing on the rough and broken ice, which greatly retarded his speed, and thus allowed his pursuers upon the ice to gain rapidly upon him. After being dragged in this way for about 300 paces, almost strangled by my shawl, which the bear had seized at the same time, he dropped me, and immediately afterwards Koldewey was bending over me, with the words ‘Thank God! he is still alive.’ The bear stood a few paces on one side evidently undecided what course to pursue, until a bullet gave him a hint that it was high time to take himself off.”
LIEUT. PAYER’S REMARKABLE JOURNEY
Preparations having been completed for an extended sledge journey to examine the bays and inlets of the mainland, the party started March 8, 1870, and were absent until April 27 after twenty-three days of most arduous labours. Lieutenant Payer had the satisfaction of reaching 77° 1´ north latitude, at that time the most northerly point ever reached on the east coast of Greenland. From an elevated sight the sea appeared covered with an unbroken field of hummocks, and land was seen to stretch out in a northerly direction as far as the eye could reach.
Other journeys which followed at close intervals greatly added to the geographical knowledge of the coast. On the return from one of these, they discovered (9th of August) the entrance to a magnificent fiord to the south of Cape Franklin (73° 10´ north latitude), into which they penetrated to a distance of seventy-two nautical miles. As they advanced into the interior, a decided change in the temperature was noticed, the atmosphere and water became warmer, and herds of reindeer and musk-oxen were seen; butterflies, bees, and other insects fluttered over the green earth. Nothing could exceed the grandeur of the scenery.
“Numerous glaciers and cascades descended from the mountains, which rose higher and higher as they advanced towards the west. Lieutenant Payer and Doctor Copeland having climbed a peak 7000 feet high saw the fiord still branching out in the distance, and towards the west a remote chain of mountains, situated about 32° W. long., rising to an altitude of at least 14,000 feet, terminated the magnificent prospect. The interior of Greenland thus proved itself to be not a mere naked plateau covered with perpetual ice-fields, but in some parts at least a country of Alpine grandeur.”
RETURN OF THE “GERMANIA”
On the 24th of August, the Germania steered her course for home; as the ship cleared the last of the Greenland ice, Captain Koldewey quoted the words of old Scoresby under similar conditions. “My watch is over!” he used to say—and turning to Mr. Sengstache, Captain Koldewey exclaimed, “My watch is over!” and retired to his cabin with a feeling of security that he had not enjoyed for many a day.
Pursuing a course past Iceland between the Faroe and Shetland isles, they stood off Heligoland, September 10. “At daybreak, though we had seen no pilot, we recognized Wangerooge, and steered along the South wall to the mouth of the Weser. No sign of a ship! The Weser seemed to have died out. Where are the pilots hidden? Are they lying perdu on account of yesterday’s storm? Well, then, we must run into the Weser without them, the wind is favorable, the weather clear, the outer buoy will be easy to find; there is the church-tower of Wangerooge. Suspecting nothing, we steered on; the tower bears south-southwest, southwest by south, southwest, but no buoy in sight. The Captain and steersman look at each other in astonishment. Can we have been so mistaken and out of our reckoning? But, no! That is certainly Wangerooge; the depth of water agrees, our compass is correct. No doubt about it, we are in the Weser; something unusual must have happened! Still no sail in sight! But what is that? Yonder are the roads. There are several large vessels under steam; they at least can give us some information. So we make for them. We saluted the German flag, and soon the cry was heard, ‘War, war with France; Napoleon a prisoner! France has declared a Republic; our armies are before Paris!’ And then, ‘Hansa destroyed in the ice, crew saved.’ We thought we were dreaming, and stood stiff with astonishment at such grand and heart-stirring news. Not until a loud hurrah for King William sounded from a hundred German throats did we regain our speech, and answer with another ‘Hurrah!’”