All our outdoor establishments were completely buried with snow, and we were compelled to send parties of men to excavate them, in order to effect an entrance at all. In fact, our men were for some time engaged in repairing the ravages of the storm. The accumulation of drift on the weather side of the ship was enormous, and took the form of a perfectly solid snow-wreath. This was caused by the eddying wind driving the snow from the side of the vessel to a distance of about four or five feet, where it settled, resembling a great frozen wave, whose curling crest was fully seven feet in height.
On the opposite, or lee, side of the ship the ice had cracked, leaving several large fissures, through which the water oozed and flowed over. The spring tides had also caused the ship to rise in her icy cradle, the greater part of the banking having, in consequence, slipped through between the edge of our dock and the ship’s side and disappeared. This also had to be rectified. Our gale of wind had undoubtedly been productive of much extra work, irrespective of the anxiety and the by no means pleasant time spent, during its duration: for as yet our protecting bergs had not inspired us with absolute confidence regarding the shelter they might afford in such tempestuous weather as we had recently experienced. So well, however, did they answer our purpose during this gale, that all cause for anxiety was from that time removed, and for the future we felt as safe and as secure as if we had been frozen up in a well-sheltered and land-locked harbour.
When the wind was at its height, a piece of musk-ox meat, suspended in the mizzen-rigging, was blown down, and was, of course, at once assailed by the Eskimo dogs who had been admitted into the ship during the gale. Fortunately it was frozen so hard that they were unable to get their teeth through it, and although it had been some time in their clutches before it was rescued, little loss was sustained.
At noon on the 17th of January, a faint tinge of crimson, blended with a slight silvery streak of twilight, could be observed in the southern horizon, and although it was only of short duration, it became more decided and lasted for a longer time on each successive day. These bright harbingers of returning light were anxiously watched, and gladly were they welcomed as they assumed a more decided appearance.
Although there was no despondency or depression of spirits on board the “Alert,” the monotony of the long dark nights could not but be felt, and we all eagerly looked forward to the time when the glorious rays from our bright, though long-absent, sun should again crown the summits of the distant hills with their sparkling and joyous light. All on board were interested for different reasons in the return of the sun: the sledge travellers, because it would bring light and heat to cheer and sustain them on their lonesome and arduous journeys, which they knew would be commenced as soon after its return as possible: the sportsmen regarded it as the precursor of game; and all hailed with delight the symbol of returning day and the assurance of the approaching termination of their long dark night. By the 1st of February, those gifted with sharp eyesight were just able to decipher a leading article in the Times on the floe at noon. It was remarked that one of our officers afflicted with short-sightedness was able, by the dim twilight, to read not only with greater ease and accuracy than others, but also some days before them, and therefore by a dimmer light.
We had hitherto had no exceptionally severe weather; but during the latter part of January we experienced a foretaste of the intense cold that we were a month later destined to endure. With a temperature 50° below zero, it is necessary, when exposed to it, to keep the body in constant motion, otherwise a frost-bite will imperceptibly seize hold of one. On first emerging into this temperature a slight difficulty of breathing would be experienced, and tears would be involuntarily brought to the eyes, which immediately became small nodules of ice, and as such had to be extracted. This is hardly to be wondered at when it is remembered that we had to undergo a transition of temperature from our living-deck to the open air of over 100°! In spite of this cold, however, we were not much troubled with frost-bites, except on the face. Our dearly bought experience, during the autumn sledging, will account for our comparative immunity from these very troublesome and painful attacks.
Apropos of frost-bites it is related, that one of the members of the expedition, on getting up in the morning, during the cold weather, found, to his horror, that one of his toes and a part of his foot were quite black. Thinking he was severely frost-bitten, and wishing at once to assure himself of the fact by the only practical method that suggested itself at the time, he seized a pin, and made a furious dig at the supposed injured part. He very quickly found that, although discoloured, it was not totally devoid of all sensation, nor was the circulation of blood in any way impeded. The fact was, that his servant, on the previous day, had patched up his sock with a piece of fearnought, and, in order to assimilate the colour, had inked it over—which fully accounted for his terrible frost-bite!
It was our invariable custom to keep the hair, especially that growing on the face, as close as possible. In spite, however, of this precaution, it was impossible to prevent the breath from freezing on the short stubbly beard and moustache, which would soon be converted into a perfect mass of ice—a decidedly uncomfortable appendage. On returning from our short walks, we frequently found our cap, comforter, and collar of the coat frozen into one solid and compact mass.