On the day following, the hawsers by which we had thus far been moored to the rocks were cut out of the ice and elevated on blocks of the same material. We also made a stairway of slabs of this same cheap Arctic alabaster, from the upper deck down to the frozen sea; and, a deep snow falling soon afterward, we banked this up against the schooner's sides as a further protection against the cold.
During the next few days the teams were employed in collecting the reindeer which had been cached in various places, and when this labor was completed our inventory of fresh supplies was calculated to inspire very agreeable sensations.
The schooner being now snugly cradled in the ice, we had no longer occasion for the nautical routine, so I adopted a landsman's watch, with one officer and one sailor; the sea day, which commences at noon, was changed to the home day, which begins at midnight; and, conscious that we had reached the dividing line between the summer sunlight and the winter darkness, we settled ourselves for the struggle which was to come, resolved to get through it with the cheerfulness becoming resolute men, and to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. And the personal characteristics of my associates augured well for the future. While there was sufficient variety of disposition to insure a continuance of some novelty in our social intercourse, there was enough esprit to satisfy me as to the continuance of harmony in the performance of individual duty.
THE DAY ENDED.
The sun sank out of sight behind the southern hills on the 15th of October, not to be seen again for four long months. The circumstance furnished the subject of our conversation in the evening, and I could easily read on the faces of my companions that their thoughts followed him as he wandered south; and a shade of sadness fell for a moment over the table about which we were grouped. We had all been so intent upon our cares and duties, during the past five weeks, that we had scarcely noticed the decline of day. It had vanished slowly and as if by stealth; and the gloom of night following its lengthening shadow made us feel now, for the first time, how truly alone we were in the Arctic desert.
CHAPTER IX.
SUNSET.—WINTER WORK.—MY DOG-TEAMS.—"MY BROTHER JOHN'S GLACIER."—HUNTING.—PEAT BEDS.—ESQUIMAU GRAVES.—PUTREFACTION AT LOW TEMPERATURES.—SONNTAG CLIMBS THE GLACIER.—HANS AND PETER.—MY ESQUIMAU PEOPLE.—THE ESQUIMAU DOG.—SURVEYING THE GLACIER.—THE SAILING-MASTER.—HIS BIRTHDAY DINNER.
My diary thus records the advent of winter:—
October 16th.