| “Our paper, pens, and ink, and we, Are tumbled up and down at sea.” |
Liveliness was not her only peculiarity, she was likewise excessively wet, and although battened down carefully it was impossible to keep the water from going below. To those who are uninitiated in nautical terms it must be explained that “battening down” means the careful closing and covering with a tarpaulin of every skylight and hatchway, in order to prevent the water from finding its way below. In spite, however, of these precautions, it is excessively difficult to keep the lower deck of a small ship dry during heavy weather.
On the 13th it was blowing furiously with a terrific sea, and we were compelled to “lay-to” under very reduced canvas. During the night a large steamer, supposed to be bound for Quebec, passed close to us, so close indeed that we were compelled to burn blue lights in order to denote our position, so as to avoid collision.
On the same night a heavy sea struck us, and washed away our starboard whale boat. Our consort also suffered the same loss. Nearly all our fowls, which were in hen-coops on the upper deck, were drowned; only two escaping! Fresh meat being scarce the manner of their death did not prevent their appearance on our table for some days. This gale had the effect of dispersing our little squadron, nor did we again assemble together until our arrival at Disco.
No sooner had we recovered from the effects of one gale, than we were assailed by another. Our only consolation was, the very poor one of trying to believe that these storms would eventually be the means of assisting us in our passage through Melville Bay, by breaking up the ice and blowing it out of Davis Straits!
The discomforts entailed by the perpetual bad weather did not in any way check the ardour of some of the officers in their praiseworthy endeavours to add to the scientific collections of the expedition. It is related, but I will not vouch for the authenticity of the story, that on one occasion, when the ship was labouring heavily, a huge sea washed on board, finding its way down through the skylight into the ward-room, where it splashed about from side to side with every roll of the ship. An officer, a most zealous and enthusiastic collector in all branches of natural history, being in bed at the time, thought that he detected by the dim light of a lantern some interesting, and perhaps unknown, specimens of zoology in the water. His landing net was immediately called into requisition, and, from his bed, he succeeded in fishing up some of these supposed wonderful organisms. The microscope was instantly produced for the purpose of ascertaining the nature of his find, when, to his great disappointment, he discovered they were simply grains of buckwheat—part of the stock that had been laid in for our unfortunate fowls!
Our progress was tardy. On more than one occasion we were actually farther off Cape Farewell, the point of land we were striving to make, than on the day previous!
As we approached Davis Straits, speculations were rife as to when and where we should meet our first ice. The greatest eagerness was shown by all on board to become acquainted with the enemy whose fastnesses we were preparing to attack and from which we hoped to return victorious.
On the 25th of June, being still at some distance to the southward of Cape Farewell, a vessel was sighted steering in the opposite direction to ourselves. We passed at too great a distance to avail ourselves of such a favourable opportunity of sending letters to England, though there were many on board who showed an intense anxiety to communicate. We suspected, and our reasoning proved correct, that this would be the last vessel we should see for many a long day, and she was consequently watched with a great deal of interest. She was, in all probability, a homeward bound Peterhead vessel laden with cryolite. The cryolite is a rare mineral and the sole one which has become an article of trade in Greenland. It is found only in one single spot called Ivigtut in 61° 10′ N., imbedded like a massive body in the granitic rock, and not in veins or strata. In 1857 a licence was granted to a private company for working the cryolite, and in the first nine years 14,000 tons were exported in 80 ship-loads. During the next nine years the total export amounted to 70,000 tons. Cryolite is converted by a chemical process into soda and an alumina unequalled as regards purity and fitness for the art of dyeing.[1]