CHAPTER II.
PASSAGE TO THE GREENLAND COAST.—DISCIPLINE.—THE DECKS AT SEA.—OUR QUARTERS.—THE FIRST ICEBERG.—CROSSING THE ARCTIC CIRCLE.—THE MIDNIGHT SUN.—THE ENDLESS DAY.—MAKING THE LAND.—A REMARKABLE SCENE AMONG THE BERGS.—AT ANCHOR IN PRÖVEN HARBOR.
I will not long detain the reader with the details of our passage to the Greenland coast. It was mainly devoid of interest.
My first concern was to regulate the domestic affairs of my little company; my second, to make the schooner as tidy and comfortable as possible. The former was much more easily managed than the latter. Calling the officers and crew together, I explained to them that, inasmuch as we would for a long time constitute our own little world, we must all recognize the obligations of a mutual dependence and the ties of mutual safety, interest, and ambition. Keeping this in view, we would find no hardship in making all selfish considerations subordinate to the necessities of a mutual accommodation. The response was highly gratifying to me, and I had afterward abundant reason to congratulate myself upon having at the outset established the relations of the crew with myself upon such a satisfactory footing. To say nothing of its advantages to our convenience, this course saved much trouble. From the beginning to the end of the cruise I had no occasion to record a breach of discipline; and I did not find it necessary to establish any other rules than those which are usual in all well disciplined ships.
THE DECKS.
To make the schooner comfortable was impracticable, and to make her tidy equally so. I found myself rocking about on the Atlantic with decks in a condition to have sorely tried the patience of the most practised sailor. Barrels, boxes, boards, boats, and other articles were spiked or lashed to the bulwarks and masts, until all available space was covered, and there was left only a narrow, winding pathway from the quarter to the forecastle deck, and no place whatever for exercise but the top of the trunk cabin, which was just twelve feet by ten; and even this was partly covered, and that too with articles which, if they have existence, should at least never be in sight on a well-regulated craft. But this was not to be helped,—there was no room for any thing more below hatches; every nook and cranny in the vessel was full, and we had no alternative but to allow the decks to be "lumbered up" until some friendly sea should come and wash the incumbrance overboard. (We were entirely too prudent to throw any thing away.) That such an event would happen seemed likely enough, for we were loaded down until the deck, in the waist, was only a foot and a half above the water; and, standing in the gangway, you could at any time lean over the monkey-rail and touch the sea with your fingers. The galley filled up the entire space between the fore hatch and the mainmast; and the water, coming in over the gangway, poured through it frequently without restraint. The cook and the fire were often put out together, and the regularity of our meals was a little disturbed in consequence.
THE CABIN.
My cabin occupied the after-half of the "trunk," (which extended two feet above the quarter-deck,) and was six feet by ten. Two "bull's-eyes" gave me a feeble light by day, and a kerosene lamp, which creaked uneasily in its gimbals, by night. Two berths let, one into either side, furnished commodious receptacles for ship's stores. The carpenter, however, fixed up a narrow bunk for me; and when I had covered this with a brilliant afghan, and enclosed it with a pair of crimson curtains, I was astonished at the amount of comfort which I had manufactured for myself.
The narrow space in front of my cabin contained the companion ladder, the steward's pantry, the stove-pipe, a barrel of flour, and a "room" for Mr. Sonntag. Forward of this, two steps down in the hold, was the officers' cabin, which was exactly twelve feet square by six feet high. It was oak-panelled, and had eight bunks, happily not all occupied. It was not a commodious apartment. The men's quarters were under the forecastle deck, close against the "dead-wood" of the "ship's eyes." They, too, were necessarily crowded for room.