At length, after being buffeted about for many days, the high land of Disco was sighted on the 25th of September; and on the same day we came to an anchor in the little harbour of Godhavn, and congratulated ourselves once more upon our return to civilization.
The day, as if to make up for our previous bad weather, was a bright sunny one, and perfectly still and calm. This was all the more appreciated after the turbulent seas which had lately almost driven us distracted. The scenery coming in was very beautiful. On one side were the high cliffs of Disco, intersected here and there with deep fiords and bays, whilst on the other lay the perfectly quiescent sea, studded with icebergs of all shapes and sizes. Occasionally the surface of the water would be ruffled and disturbed by the appearance of a seal’s head, as the inquisitive little animal would pop it up to gaze curiously at us as we steamed slowly by; or else a whale, as he swam lazily along, would give a flick with his huge tail, or spout a jet of water in the air, which might be taken either as a welcome back to more genial climes, or an angry remonstrance that a monster larger than himself should dare to live in his own particular domain. Birds flew around and alighted near us. One, a ger-falcon, was so bold as to venture to perch upon our fore-royal truck; but, I am ashamed to relate, was fired at for its misplaced confidence. It escaped, however, unhurt. Everything was bright and joyous, and all were happy and elated. Our joy was slightly marred on arrival to find that our mails had really been taken on and left at Littleton Island; but a mail, with letters of a later date than those brought out by the “Pandora,” which had been got together and made up for us at Copenhagen by my cousin, had just arrived in the Danish brig “Tjalfe.”
Of course it could not be expected that, during the period of our absence from England, no sad changes should have taken place, and the sorrowful faces of more than one among us testified to the fact that some dear and loved ones would be seen no more in this world.
From Mr. Krarup Smith, the Inspector, we learnt that the “Pandora” had only taken her departure for England four days previously, having been unsuccessful in her endeavours to reach Cape Sabine. The attempt had only been relinquished by her commander when the lateness of the season compelled him to beat a retreat. A supply of beer, sent from England by my cousin, was found awaiting our arrival, and was most acceptable. A cask of beer had also been kindly left for our use by Allen Young, so that we were enabled to supply “all hands” with a glass of beer twice a week during the passage to England. Through the kindness of the Danish authorities, we were able to obtain thirty tons of coal, with a promise of thirty more if we chose to go to Egedesminde, another settlement about sixty miles to the southward. This was an offer too valuable to be disregarded, and was accepted by Captain Nares.
Having shifted our rudder, which, to use an American phrase, was “pretty considerably chawed up,” from its treatment by the ice, and made good a few other defects, we took our departure from Godhavn on the morning of the 28th, Mr. Krarup Smith, the Inspector, coming on board to accompany us round to Egedesminde. As we steamed out of harbour the little three-gun battery fired a farewell salute, the ensigns on shore, and on board, were dipped, and the ladies (two in number), from their verandahs, waved with their pocket handkerchiefs a last adieu. It was a fine clear morning as we left; but a thick fog soon overtook us, in which we remained enveloped for the remainder of the day, and it was not until the following morning that we reached our destination.
Our way took us through a perfect labyrinth of small islands, some of the narrow channels through which we had to pass being almost blocked by large grounded masses of ice, remnants of icebergs. The “Alert” and “Discovery” being the first steamers that had ever visited Egedesminde, the natives turned out in force to witness our arrival. Several kayaks came skimming rapidly along the smooth and unruffled surface of the water as we approached, their occupants gazing with evident astonishment at the large “umiaks,” whose motive power was to them invisible and incomprehensible. The Danish flag was run up on three separate flag-staves on shore, and a salute of seven guns was fired to welcome our arrival.
There is much similarity about the various Danish settlements in Greenland. The houses are of the same size and colour, and generally of about the same number, whilst all possess their little church, their storehouse, and their cooperage. The settlement is very prettily situated on the northern side of the largest of a group of many islands of all sizes. These are of the same metamorphic formation, and possess a more luxuriant vegetation than we had hitherto seen. The island is covered with numerous small lakes and ponds, and is extremely marshy and swampy. The difficulty of walking, without sinking up to the ankles in a bog, is very great.
The population of Egedesminde, which is the most southern settlement in the Inspectorate of North Greenland, is about one hundred and thirty souls, including the Danes, who with the Governor and his family number about twelve. The entire population of North Greenland is about four thousand three hundred.
The boggy substance, like peat, is dug up and stacked during the summer, and when dried is very generally used as fuel. The chief employment of the inhabitants is, as at the other settlements, that of collecting skins and blubber. Reindeer are obtained on the mainland, but they are not plentiful.
The Governor, Mr. Boldroe, was good enough to present us with a fine large haunch of venison; but, curious to relate, when served up, it had an unmistakeable taste and odour of musk! Our scorbutic patients, who were at this time nearly all convalescent, benefited largely from the quantities of fresh fish, principally cod, obtainable at this place.