Those who are familiar with arctic scenes well remember the report of concussions between huge masses and blocks of ice, the hoarse and dismal chafings between contending pieces, and their violent agitation by the action of a heavy swell, or winds, or currents; at such times it seemed as if the fabled giants or gods of mythology were engaged in some fierce and terrible encounter.
But now, while the ocean was frozen over with an incrustation like one of the strata of the earth's surface, we were frequently startled at the deep and prolonged sounds, or rumblings, falling upon our ears like peals of thunder, or discharges of cannon from this sea of solid ice; and then their varied echoes and reverberations would roll away in the distance, forming a most sublime finale to the music of an arctic winter.
These icequakes, as we might properly call them, at the north, may be placed in the same chapter with earthquakes, exhibiting on a scale of astonishing magnitude and inconceivable energy the throes of nature.
Fogs began to prevail, and so dense that we could discover an object only a very short distance from us; and besides, so saturating that they were equivalent to rain.
In the months of October and November, various species of birds and sea fowl, with the exception of the crow, which is a permanent fixture in all climates and regions, migrate to the south. In the months of April, May, and June, they return again in immense numbers, beyond all calculation. The air seemed to be alive with the feathered tribe.
The last part of April and the first of May, the snow began to waste away, and objects which had for months been concealed were now made visible.
It was about this time that an incident occurred which created great delight in the minds of the natives. The thawing away of the snow had revealed to their rejoicing eyes a dead whale, which was found three or four miles distant from the settlement. It was probably driven ashore the season before, and thus preserved in the snow and ice. It was a gala time with these simple-hearted and ignorant people. All that could go—men, women, and children, hastened to the dead whale for the purpose of cutting blubber. It furnished a fresh stock of provisions for them; a new bite, far better, we presume, than the old, which had become not only reduced, but rather stale. Nor did we fail of receiving our supply from this newly-cut blubber.
It was deeply interesting, as well as amusing, to witness the zeal of the natives in cutting up the whale, and sledding home the blubber with their dog teams. This was a valuable prize to them, and the staff of life.
As we remarked before in the former part of this narrative, at the time of our visiting the wreck with the natives, they were very inquisitive to know whether we had any thing to drink which would make them dance and sing, and such like. From their gestures, words, and actions, we knew they meant rum. In addition to our previous knowledge of their habits in this particular, our further acquaintance with them, for half a year or more, confirmed us in the opinion that they loved ardent spirits, and whenever and wherever they could get it, they would drink to excess.
We found they were no half-hearted, occasional, genteel drinkers. They had no idea of making a quantity of spirits continue its enlivening and kicking effects through several days and weeks; but they wanted, and they would have, if furnished with the means, one grand "burst up," one tremendous "spree," and that would end it for the present, until the next supply could be obtained. They went on the principle that many others tolerate, "they could not have too much of a good thing."