The Arctic Whaleman; or, Winter in the Arctic Ocean

by Lewis Holmes

After having gathered all the provisions we could find at the wreck, such as bread, flour, and molasses, we judged that with economy, and with ordinary allowance, it would last the ship's company three or four months. But the great drawback which we apprehended, and which we found to be true, was, the natives acted as if they had as good a right to our provisions as we had ourselves. They not only joined us in eating what belonged to us, but they took what they wanted, both openly and secretly.

The weather continued quite moderate, we should judge, for this region of the north, not intensely cold, still gradually increasing, until the 17th of November. While the sea was open, whales were very plenty. They came near the shore where our settlement was located, and sported among the breakers, and in some instances, would rest their huge heads upon the rocks, just on the surface of the water.

About this time, a very severe gale of wind blew from the north, more furious and winterish than had occurred since our abode in this region, accompanied with a heavy fall of snow. The wind was so violent that it prostrated several native huts. This storm was doubtless a forerunner of winter indeed, and which brought from the remote wastes of the Northern Sea vast quantities of ice, which, in connection with that which had been forming along the coast, closed up the whole ocean as far as the eye could reach. Indeed, all water entirely disappeared.

This was an uncommon and singular feature in our experience of an arctic winter. It thus began in earnest to put on the sterner and more terrible attributes of dreariness and desolation. There was something profoundly dreadful and awe-inspiring in the giant march of a polar winter, prodigious in its increase of snow and the vast accumulation of ice. It was upon a scale of operation so sublime and awful as to baffle all human description, and throw wholly into the shade, as absolutely insignificant, the intensest winter ever experienced in our native country. It is utterly impossible to give to any one who has not shared somewhat in the tremendous reality of the scene a just conception of it.

The sun was now falling rapidly, and showing its bright disk only a few hours above the horizon. The nights were very long, and the days were becoming shorter and shorter. It seemed as if the luminary of day was indisposed to throw abroad his own rays upon a region of the earth's surface where either human or animal life could with so much difficulty exist. In a few weeks, the sun had wholly disappeared, though his track of light could be distinctly traced in his course below a section of the horizon; but still it was becoming fainter and fainter, until total darkness and a long night of nearly a month enveloped the outward world, as well as enshrouded our own minds in indescribable gloom and sadness.

Our readers may inquire how we passed our time during our detention among the natives, and especially during the coldest of the weather, or during the long night of polar darkness. When the thermometer, during the depth of winter, would doubtless have indicated scores of degrees less than zero, we rarely ventured forth out of the huts. But far otherwise with the natives. They would go out and travel from settlement to settlement, even in the coldest weather. At times, however, they would return from their winter excursions somewhat frost-bitten. We also became, in a measure, accustomed to the intense cold, and being clothed in the garments of the natives, consisting wholly of skins and furs, we could endure a great degree of cold.

If there was any outward relief to be found to our minds during the long nights of the arctic, and the entire absence of the sun for several weeks, it consisted in the peculiar and uncommon brilliancy which marked the course of the moon in those clear skies.

Nor was this all. The aurora borealis there is seen in all its native beauty and grandeur. It illumined the sky with a light but little inferior to that of moonlight. It would from time to time shoot up and spread itself over the whole northern horizon, and with its sparkling scintillations and brightly-colored coruscations, it would form a splendid arch over our heads. And then, again, as the advancing column of warriors rushes into battle, so the bright line above us, with its moving front and wheeling battalions, would seem to change its hue and position, and thus prepare for a fresh onset.

The aurora borealis of the arctic and polar region is one of nature's grandest and most sublime scenes ever beheld by mortals.

As we were confined within the huts of the natives during a greater part of our abode with them, and as nothing particular occurred demanding our exposure out of doors, we had sufficient time to sleep, if sleep we could. To pass away time was extremely hard and irksome. Its wheels rolled slowly and heavily along. Some of us would sing to the natives, which tended not only to divert and encourage our own minds, but to please them. We found, however, they were wonderfully pleased with our singing, and so much interested were they in it, that nothing would satisfy them unless some one of us was singing to them. Thus they laid an oppressive task upon us, which we were not able to perform. What we commenced, therefore, as a sort of pastime, in order to while away tedious hours, days, and months, finally became, through the constant importunity of the natives, a grievous burden to us.