3. On the morning of the 10th of April (the thermometer standing at 5° F.) we divided the tent; one half was put on the dog-sledge, the other was pitched, with its open side close under the rock. Before a caravan takes the desert, the camels are watered, and we too, though in a very different kind of desert, exposed to the constant evil of thirst, would gladly have been treated in like fashion. But we had to content ourselves with a pint of boiling water, served out to each of us every morning, reminding us, indeed, of coffee, for 2 lbs. of it were boiled in 105 gallons of water in the course of thirty days. The provisions were divided, and enough for eight days was dealt out to the party starting to the north, Orel, Zaninovitch, Klotz, myself, and two dogs. The special requirements of our expedition, among which were a rifle and a revolver, raised the weight of our sledge to about 4 cwt., which it was the business of the dogs to draw without any assistance from us, and this they did over the level snow with such zeal, that we had some trouble in keeping up with them.
4. The merits of our dogs I have hitherto left unnoticed, in order emphatically to assert that we owed the passing beyond the eighty-second degree of north latitude not to our own exertions, but to the endurance and courage of these animals. No kind of life among dogs is comparable for hardships with the life of a dog in an Arctic sledge. His tent is scarcely the pretext of a shelter, and his natural coat is generally covered by a thick rime. The snow when it drifts completely covers him, though he constantly but vainly seeks to shake it off. He draws his breath with difficulty, hunger gnaws at his bowels, and his wounded feet colour the snow with blood. Often, too, these poor animals amid the great cold must keep still; then they lift up their paws alternately, to prevent frost-bite. The two dogs, which accompanied us to the extreme North, were the noblest animals ever employed in a sledge expedition, and when I recall the great services they rendered us, both now and afterwards in the return to Europe, their sad end fills me with sincere sorrow. Jubinal and Torossy were dogs of remarkable size and strength, and escaped the epidemic diseases[46] which attacked the dogs of Hayes and Kane; and though it has been thought that the dogs of the Eskimo and of the Siberian people were alone adapted for Arctic expeditions, our experience with our own dogs most of them brought from Vienna, proves that they were not a whit less useful. Our dogs had only one defect: they had not been trained to sledge-drawing from their youth, but had been broken to it only during our expedition, and were therefore not always amenable to discipline. When left to themselves in dragging the sledge they went on, without turning to the right or left, from cape to cape, and if they found themselves on a wide plain of ice, and far from all striking landmarks, they ran either towards the sun or moon, or some remarkable star. It was against the grain with them to have to drag in the teeth of the wind, and if they had to push on amid hummocks of ice, they immediately began to growl. They were fed in the morning, and more particularly in the evening, and they showed a delicacy of taste in discriminating between bear’s flesh and the despised seal’s flesh. While they carefully avoided coming near us before our start, provided they were not very hungry, in order to escape being harnessed, yet when harnessed nothing could exceed their vigour and persistence in dragging.
ICEBERGS AT THE BASE OF THE MIDDENDORF GLACIER.
5. As we approached the promontory on the south of Crown-Prince Rudolf’s Land, we came upon innumerable icebergs, from one hundred to two hundred feet high, which made an incessant cracking and snapping sound in the sunshine. The Middendorf glacier, with an enormous sea-wall, ran towards the north to a great distance. Deep layers of snow and great rents in the sea-ice, the consequence of the falling-in of icebergs, filled the intervening spaces between them. Into these fissures we were continually falling, drenching our canvas boots and clothes with sea-water. But the aspect of these colossal fragments of glaciers engrossed us to such an extent, that we wandered a long time with unflagging interest among these pyramids, tables, and cliffs. It was only when I sent on Klotz to mark out by his footsteps a path by which we might ascend the Middendorf glacier, that we came to a more open region, and, all putting their strength to the work of dragging, we gained its summit, crossing in our progress many crevasses bridged over with snow. Three of these yawned across the lower part of the glacier, needing but a slight movement of the ice to detach them and transform them into icebergs. Further on, the glacier appeared smooth and free from crevasses, although its inclination amounted to several degrees. Towards the north it seemed as if it might be crossed without excessive exertion, if all took part in the work of dragging. But before we began this part of the day’s work we rested, and recruited ourselves with dinner, and setting up our little tent at about 400 paces above the edge of the glacier, we looked down with feelings of delight on its semi-circular terminal precipice and the gleaming host of icebergs which filled the indentations of the coast. While we were sitting in the tent Klotz made the fatal communication to me, that he was not the man he should be, that for some days his foot had swollen and ulcerated, so that he could walk only in shoes made of hide. However vexatious this mishap, there was nothing for it but to send him back to Hohenlohe Island. Laden with a sack and carrying a revolver, he set off, and soon disappeared from our eyes in the labyrinth of icebergs beneath us.
THE SLEDGE FALLS INTO A CREVASSE ON THE MIDDENDORF GLACIER.
6. We had meanwhile again packed the sledge, harnessed the dogs, and fastened the traces round us, when, just as we were setting off, the snow gave way beneath the sledge, and down fell Zaninovich, the dogs, and the sledge, and from an unknown depth I heard a man’s voice mingled with the howling of dogs. All this was the impression of a moment, while I felt myself dragged backwards by the rope. Staggering back, and seeing the dark abyss beneath me, I could not doubt that I should be precipitated into it the next instant. A wonderful providence arrested the fall of the sledge; at a depth of about thirty feet it stuck fast between the sides of the crevasse, just as I was being dragged to the edge of the abyss by its weight. The sledge having jammed itself in, I lay on my stomach close to the awful brink, the rope which attached me to the sledge tightly strained, and cutting deep into the snow. The situation was all the more dreadful as I, the only person present accustomed to the dangers of glaciers, lay there unable to stir. When I cried down to Zaninovich that I would cut the rope, he implored me not to do it, for if I did, the sledge would turn over, and he would be killed. For a time I lay quiet, considering what was to be done. By and by it flashed into my memory, how I and my guide had once fallen down a wall of ice in the Ortler Mountains, 800 feet high, and had escaped. This inspired me with confidence to venture on a rescue, desperate as it seemed under the circumstances. Orel had now come up, and although he had never been on a glacier before, this gallant officer dauntlessly advanced to the edge of the crevasse, and, laying himself on his stomach, looked down into the abyss, and cried to me, “Zaninovich is lying on a ledge of snow in the crevasse, with precipices all round him, and the dogs are still attached to the traces of the sledge, which has stuck fast.” I called to him to throw me his knife, which he did with such dexterity, that I was able to lay hold of it without difficulty; and as the only means of rescue, I severed the trace which was fastened round my waist. The sledge made a short turn, and then stuck fast again. I immediately sprang to my feet, drew off my canvas boots, and sprang over the crevasse, which was about ten feet broad. I now caught sight of Zaninovich and the dogs, and shouted to him, that I would run back to Hohenlohe Island to fetch men and ropes for his rescue, and that rescued he would be, if he could contrive for four hours to keep himself from being frozen. I heard his answer: “Fate, Signore, fate pure!” and then Orel and I disappeared. Heedless of the crevasses which lay in our path, or of the bears which might attack us, we ran down the glacier back to Cape Schrötter, six miles off. Only one thought possessed us—the rescue of Zaninovich, the jewel and pride of our party, and the recovery of our invaluable store of provisions, and of the book containing our journals, which, if lost, could never be replaced. But even apart from my personal feeling for Zaninovich, I keenly felt the reproaches to which I should be exposed of incautious travelling on glaciers; and it gave me no comfort to think that my previous experiences in this kind of travelling over the glaciers of Greenland appeared to justify my proceedings. Stung with these reflections, I pressed on at the top of my speed, leaving Orel far behind me. Bathed in perspiration, I threw off my bird-skin garments, my boots, my gloves, and my shawl, and ran in my stockings through the deep snow. After passing the labyrinth of icebergs I saw the rocky pyramid of Cape Schrötter before me in the distance. The success of my venture depended on the weather. If snow-driving should set in, and footprints should be obliterated, it would be impossible to find Hohenlohe Island. All around me it was fearfully lonely. Encompassed by glaciers, I was absolutely alone. At last I saw Klotz emerge from behind an iceberg at some distance off, and though I continued to shout his name till I almost reached him, I failed to rouse him from his usual reverie. When at last he saw me breathlessly pushing on, scarcely clothed, and constantly calling, his sack slipped from his back, and he stared at me as if he had lost his senses. When the hardy son of the mountains came to understand that Zaninovich with the sledge was buried in the crevasse, he began to weep, in his simplicity of heart taking the blame of what had happened on himself. He was so agitated and disturbed, that I made him promise that he would do himself no mischief, and then, leaving him to his moody silence, I ran on again towards the island. It seemed as if I should never reach Cape Schrötter; with head bent down I trudged on, counting my steps through the deep snow; when I raised it again, after a little time, it was always the same black spot that I saw on the distant horizon. At last I came near it, saw the tent, saw some dark spots creep out of it, saw them gather together, and then run down the snow-slope. These were the friends we had left behind. A few words of explanation, with an exhortation to abstain from idle lamentation, were enough. They at once detached a second rope from the large sledge, and got hold of a long tent-pole. Meantime I had rushed upon the cooking-machine, quickly melted a little snow to quench my raging thirst, and then we all set off again—Haller, Sussich, Lukinovich, and myself—to the Middendorf glacier. Tent and provisions were left unwatched; we ran back for three hours and a half; fears for Zaninovich gave such wings to my steps, that my companions were scarcely able to keep up with me. Ever and anon, I had to stop to drink some rum. At the outset we met Orel, and rather later Klotz, both making for Cape Schrötter, Klotz to remain behind there, and Orel to return with us at once to Middendorf glacier. When we came among the icebergs under Cape Habermann I picked up, one by one, the clothes I had thrown away. Reaching the glacier, we tied ourselves together with a rope. Going before the rest, I approached with beating heart the place, where the sledge had disappeared four hours and a half ago. A dark abyss yawned before us; not a sound issued from its depths, not even when I lay on the ground and shouted. At last I heard the whining of a dog, and then an unintelligible answer from Zaninovich. Haller was quickly let down by a rope; he found him still living, but almost frozen, on a ledge of snow forty feet down the crevasse. Fastening himself and Zaninovich to the rope, they were drawn up after great exertion. A storm of greetings saluted Zaninovich, stiff and speechless though he was, when he appeared on the surface of the glacier. I need not add that we gave him some rum to stimulate his vital energies. It was a noble proof how duty and discipline assert themselves, even in such situations, that the first word of this sailor, saved from being frozen to death, was not a complaint, but thanks, accompanied with a request that I would pardon him if he, in order to save himself from being frozen, had ventured to drink a portion of the rum, which had fallen down in its case with the sledge to his ledge of snow. Haller again descended, and fastened the dogs to the rope. The clever animals had freed themselves from their traces in some inexplicable way, and had sprung to a narrow ledge, where Haller found them, close to where Zaninovich had lain. It was astonishing how quickly they discerned the danger of the position, and how great was their confidence in us. They had slept the whole time, as Zaninovich afterwards told us, and he had carefully avoided touching them, lest they should fall down deeper into the abyss. We drew them up with some difficulty, and they gave expression to their joy, first by rolling themselves vigorously in the snow, and then by licking our hands. We then raised Haller by the rope some ten feet higher than the ledge on which Zaninovich had lain, so that he might be able to cut the ropes which fastened the loading of the firmly wedged-in sledge. At this moment Orel arrived, and with his help we raised one by one the articles with which the sledge was loaded. It was ten o’clock before we were convinced that we had lost nothing of any importance in the crevasse.
