[2] Petersen, the Danish interpreter, and the ship’s cook Dominick a native of Gibraltar.
CHAPTER XV.
WINTER OCCUPATIONS AND AMUSEMENTS.
| “Darkness, Light’s eldest brother, his birthright Claimed o’er this world, and to heaven chased light.” Donne. |
| “Behold the wandering moon Riding near her highest noon, Like one that hath been led astray Through the heavens’ wide pathless way; And oft as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.” Milton. |
The sun, as has been mentioned in a previous chapter, took its final departure on the 11th of October. From this date darkness gradually settled upon us, reaching its greatest intensity on the 21st of December. The type of a leading article in the Times newspaper was taken by us as a test of the darkness. This was last read in the open air at midday on the 6th of November, and then only by a few with a great deal of difficulty. Many unsuccessful attempts were made on subsequent days. For a fortnight on either side of the 21st of December, the difference in the light between noon and midnight, on a clear day, was almost imperceptible, on a dull day it was quite inappreciable. Occasionally, at other times, at midday a faint luminous band might be observed along the southern horizon, but this was all the indication we had of the difference between day and night.
We did not forget to celebrate on the 21st of October the Battle of Trafalgar, remembering that our great naval hero, Nelson,[1] was himself an old Arctic navigator. Our caterers provided us with a good dinner, and we were regaled, as a great indulgence on such an auspicious occasion, with an extra glass of wine! Two elaborate bills of fare were placed on the table, on one of which was very creditably sketched the “Alert” in winter quarters, and on the other was depicted the Battle of Trafalgar, with the motto on each, “England expects every man this day to do his duty!” As there was a good dinner on the table, and the cold weather had made us wondrous hungry, we all responded nobly to the call!
The 5th of November was another anniversary that could not pass unnoticed. On that evening the effigy of Guy Fawkes, ingeniously stuffed with squibs and seated on a cask well smeared with tar, was duly paraded round the upper deck, accompanied by the drums and fifes playing the “Rogue’s March.” It was then dragged, on a sledge, to the summit of a neighbouring hummock, and there solemnly burnt in presence of the whole ship’s company. The band continued to play until the lips and fingers of the fifers became so frost-bitten that they were compelled to desist. It was a novel sight to see the dusky forms of the men, clad in seal-skins, dancing round a blazing fire on the top of an enormous mass of ice, whilst in the background was the ship with her masts and yards thickly coated with snow, and all her ropes clearly defined in the bright “bonfire light.” A beautiful balloon, manufactured by Moss out of various coloured tissue-papers, also formed a prominent feature in the evening’s display. Unfortunately, shortly after it was released, and before it had ascended to any very great height, it caught fire and was quickly consumed.