A system which is thus kept so well under control, with the niceties of administration so carefully preserved, could hardly be otherwise than successful. In fact, I do not see that any thing of human devising could better suit the purpose of its founding than this Greenland Company, which transacts business and does good works under the name and title of “Kongelige Grönlandske Handel, i Kiöbenhavn.”
It was founded in the year 1781, much upon the same plan as that of the Hudson Bay Company. The whole trade of Greenland is, through this Company, an absolute monopoly of the Crown, and a foreigner is not allowed to trade to the value of a skilling with Dane or Esquimaux—a system which all the better enables the benevolent intentions of the Government to be carried out, as spirits and other hurtful articles can be excluded from the country. The Company is controlled by a Directory in Copenhagen (Kiöbenhavn properly); and to its present presiding officer, Herr Justitsraad C. S. M. Olrik, knight of Dannebrog, and formerly the enlightened and genial Inspector of North Greenland, the Company’s increasing prosperity and usefulness are largely due.
CHAPTER XIV.
A GREENLAND BALL.
Monday was occupied by our party in a very agreeable and profitable manner—by the photographers especially, who, early in the day, took possession of one of the governor’s rooms, and photographed the whole town and nearly every body in it. The following day was fixed upon for our departure; but the only pilot in the place was otherwise employed, and we were forced to wait until he was ready for us. In short, he was bringing in another vessel, and one of infinitely more importance to Julianashaab than any number of Panthers. It was the one ship of the year, a ship bringing to the colonists their supplies for the next twelve months, and was to return home laden with the wealth which they had gathered.
I do not remember any thing in all my experience in Greenland that has left a stronger impression upon my mind than the arrival of this ship, nor any thing which made the isolation of the Danes who dwelt there so apparent. In these days of telegraphs, and steamships, and quick transit everywhere, it is rather painful to contemplate civilized, refined, and Christian families being a whole year without once hearing from the world. To be sure, it has its advantages, for they are saved many annoyances, and are spared the everlasting bore of writing letters for the mail. But then, what hopes and fears the mail must come charged with when it comes but once a year! with what almost terrible anxiety they must look for news from home! what changes may have taken place in the year gone by! what may Death not have done with the loved ones in that long interval! Fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, and friends, are sending tokens by that winged messenger across the sea; but what if they should be sad ones, and not those they hoped for?
When the announcement was made that the ship was in the offing, the excitement was at first intense, and the hours of the day while the ship was coming up the fiord, with baffling winds, were most anxious ones. Of course, there were many exceptions. Indeed, the people generally could have no other possible interest in the arrival of the ship than the mere selfish one of what they would gain thereby. I speak only of those Danish residents who were bred in Denmark, and whose friends dwell there now. To these, the arrival had something in it of a painful character, mingled with anticipated pleasure. Hope and fear seemed alternately to prevail in the breasts of the families of the governor, the pastor, and the doctor.
Meanwhile, every boat in the settlement had gone down to assist in towing up the ship; and at length the sound of splashing oars was heard upon the still night air; then voices were distinguished calling to each other or issuing the word of command. Soon, above the rocky point of the harbor, we saw the tops of two masts, with their black yards, creeping nearer and nearer; then a vessel burst in view, through the brilliant moonlight. The ship was now pointed for the harbor, and was coming slowly up beside us, towed by half a dozen boats, and surrounded by a swarm of men in their little kayaks, shouting, talking, and gesticulating, in their exuberant happiness.
I stood upon the Panther’s deck watching this scene of animation, until the anchor had gone into the phosphorescent sea with its unearthly “cr-r-r-r-r-r-r-up.” The mooring-lines were soon all out and made fast. The crowd of people then left the sea, and no sounds were heard but the orders on board the newly-arrived vessel for stowing the sails and making every thing snug on board. Then I heard people getting down into a boat; the oars were splashing again, and, as I traced the streak of phosphorescent light that trailed away and lengthened as the boat receded, I knew that it was carrying ashore the mail, with all its freight of words.
The vessel proved to be the Tjalfe, one of the best of the Company’s vessels—a brig of three hundred tons, and as taut and tidy as a man-of-war. I had a visit from her master in the morning, and was rejoiced to find in him an old friend, to whom, in 1855, when I had escaped with Dr. Kane from the abandoned brig Advance, I was indebted for many serviceable attentions—Captain Ammondsen, one of the most tried and trusty servants of the Royal Company.