1I have already referred to this discovery in my remarks on the migrations of the Eskimos, at p. 69.2At this time the “Pandora” was cruising in the entrance of Smith Sound, with an impenetrable barrier of ice blocking her way to the northward.3On this day the “Pandora” succeeded in landing a party on Cape Isabella for the second time, searching for a record.4On the 27th the “Pandora” was driven out of Smith Sound by a gale.
1I have already referred to this discovery in my remarks on the migrations of the Eskimos, at p. 69.
2At this time the “Pandora” was cruising in the entrance of Smith Sound, with an impenetrable barrier of ice blocking her way to the northward.
3On this day the “Pandora” succeeded in landing a party on Cape Isabella for the second time, searching for a record.
4On the 27th the “Pandora” was driven out of Smith Sound by a gale.
CHAPTER XXVII.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
“Still in the yawning trough the vessel reels,Ingulfed beneath two fluctuating hills;On either side they rise, tremendous scene,A long dark melancholy vale between.The balanced ship, now forward, now behind,Still felt the impression of the waves and wind,And to the right and left by turns inclined.”Falconer.
“Still in the yawning trough the vessel reels,
Ingulfed beneath two fluctuating hills;
On either side they rise, tremendous scene,
A long dark melancholy vale between.
The balanced ship, now forward, now behind,
Still felt the impression of the waves and wind,
And to the right and left by turns inclined.”
Falconer.
“Montano.—What from the cape can you discern at sea?1st Gent.—Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought flood;I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main,Descry a sail.Montano.—Let’s to the seaside, ho!3rd Gent.—Come, let’s do so;For every moment is expectancyOf more arrivance. (Within.) A sail! A sail!4th Gent.—The town is empty; on the brow of the seaStand ranks of people, and they cry—a sail!”Othello.
“Montano.—What from the cape can you discern at sea?
1st Gent.—Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought flood;
I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main,
Descry a sail.
Montano.—Let’s to the seaside, ho!
3rd Gent.—Come, let’s do so;
For every moment is expectancy
Of more arrivance. (Within.) A sail! A sail!
4th Gent.—The town is empty; on the brow of the sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry—a sail!”
Othello.
Shortlybefore midnight, on the 9th of September, Cape Isabella was reached and the ships were clear of Smith Sound. As, on our outward journey, to me had been allotted the duty of erecting a cairn on that prominent headland, and establishing a post office,so, on our return journey, was I assigned the duty of visiting the place in order to ascertain if letters had been deposited there during the period of our absence by any enterprising friend. On reaching the lower cairn, to my great surprise—for we hardly expected that any one would have visited the place since our departure the previous year—I found an additional cask had been placed alongside the one that I had established there. This was quickly opened, and found to contain a small mail for each ship.
Hurriedly leaving a record notifying our visit, we eagerly seized our treasures and made the best of our way to the boat. Great was the excitement when the news spread that a mail from England was actually on board, and we were soon deep in the enjoyment of perusing late letters from home, a pleasure to which we had so long been strangers.
Many were the heartfelt expressions of gratitude that rose to the lips of those lucky recipients of home news towards that gallant officer and friend who had so perseveringly and so generously, in spite of many dangers and difficulties, succeeded in depositing their letters so far north. The bulk of our mail we imagined had been left either at Disco or Upernivik. Had we examined the cairn on the summit of Cape Isabella, we should there have learnt that the same kind and disinterested friend had taken them to Littleton Island, and there safely deposited them. Being ignorant of this fact, and the weather being against our proceeding thither, a course was shaped to the southward; those who were under the impression that our English letters were really on that island being consoled by the fact that we were steeringhomewards, and that in a short time letters would be no longer necessary or of any value.
Wars, and rumours of wars, were prevalent, for our latest news came from England at the time when all Europe was disturbed and unsettled by the complexion of affairs in the East.
This made us all the more anxious to get home quickly; but alas! everything was against us. Tempestuous weather, with the windalwayscontrary, was our introduction to our own element, and, as our coal was running very short, we were obliged to put the ships under canvas and thrash them at it. Icebergs were innumerable, and, as the nights were increasing in length and the darkness in density, they were anything but pleasant neighbours.
On the 12th of September it was blowing so hard and the weather was so thick, that it was determined to seek an anchorage under the lee of the land in Whale Sound, and there wait until the weather moderated. With this object the ships were worked up under fore and aft sails and steam, eventually anchoring in a small bay (Bardin Bay) in close proximity to the Tyndall Glacier. As we came in we observed an Eskimo settlement on the eastern side of the bay, and several natives were seen running along the land towards us; but as the glacier intervened they were unable to communicate, and the weather was too bad to allow us to send a boat to them. This was much to be deplored, as, irrespective of the fact that these people were the first human beings that we had seen for many a long month, it was desirable that we should propitiate them in favour of white men, and for this purpose we had many littlearticles of infinite value to them, such as knives, needles, thread, scissors, etc., besides provisions, ready for their acceptance.
These natives were of the same tribe as those who were so kind to Kane and Hayes, and also to the “Polaris,” so it would have been a good action, independently of all other reasons, could we have befriended them.
We had not been at anchor, however, more than five hours before a change of wind, accompanied by heavy squalls which came over the hills fast and furious, obliged us to get under weigh, and again put to sea, although the weather was as thick and the wind as strong as ever—added to which hail and snow showers were frequent: altogether a very unpleasant and miserable night was spent, for it was nearly midnight when we were forced to fly from our harbour.
On the 16th we were beating about off the entrance to Lancaster Sound, near Cape Byam Martin. This was all familiar ground to me, and brought back to my recollection scenes on board the old whaler, “Arctic,” that had occurred in the same locality three years before. We made many tacks in our endeavours to weather Cape Walter Bathurst, but, for a long time, without success, for the wind invariably headed us on each tack.
On the 20th several eider-ducks, some turnstones, rotges, and snow-buntings were seen, but all going in a southerly direction, apparently anxious to seek warmer climes before the winter should have claimed both the sea and land. How we envied these birds their means of locomotion! for foul and strong windscausing slow progress, were beginning to be very irksome. Our old friends the “mollies” (fulmar petrels), that we had not seen for so long, again joined us, and might be seen continually darting down and picking up in their voracious maws all scraps that had been thrown overboard.
The persistent manner in which the bad weather clung to us was quite marvellous. Hardly a fine day had been enjoyed since we emerged from the ice. The words of Falconer would have been applicable to us, and might have been repeated with truth every morning:
“A lowering squall obscures the southern sky,Before whose sweeping breath the waters fly.* * * * *It comes resistless! and with foaming sweep,Upturns the whitening surface of the deep.”
“A lowering squall obscures the southern sky,
Before whose sweeping breath the waters fly.
* * * * *
It comes resistless! and with foaming sweep,
Upturns the whitening surface of the deep.”
At length, after being buffeted about for many days, the high land of Disco was sighted on the 25thof 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 atCopenhagen 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 usround 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, andpossess 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.
On the morning of the 2nd of October, having received on board the amount of coal promised, we bade our kind friends farewell, and steamed away amidst the usual firing of guns and dipping of colours. The stoppages at these two civilized places were very pleasant breaks to us, after our long absence from society of any description, except our own, and were not regretted by any one. Indeed, thekindness and true hospitality extended to us by our Danish friends in the different settlements in Northern Greenland will long be remembered with feelings of gratitude and pleasure.
From the date of leaving this our last port until our arrival at Valentia, we experienced very tempestuous weather. Strong head winds were in constant attendance, and the ship’s general state was being “battened down and under close-reefed topsails.” Under these circumstances our daily rate of progress was remarkably slow, and on some days we found that we had actually increased our distance from home instead of having lessened it. Few on board had before experienced a longer continuance of really stormy weather. From the severe buffeting we received, our rudder, already crippled, was reduced to such a state as to be absolutely useless, the rudder-head being almost wrenched off, and we were obliged to steer the ship during the remainder of the voyage by means of the rudder pendants.
On the 16th of October, to the intense surprise of everybody, a vessel was sighted ahead, which proved to be the “Pandora.” How very small is this world we live in! Here were we in the middle of the broad Atlantic, fifteen hundred miles from England, and out of the course of all ships, and yet actually meeting a vessel that had purposely come out to seek us.
The weather was too bad to allow us to communicate, but an interchange of news was effected by signal. The three ships remained in company for a couple of days, when they lost sight of each other in thick and blowy weather, we having previouslyordered the “Discovery” to rendezvous at Queenstown in case of parting company.
Our rudder being in such a dilapidated state, Captain Nares determined upon putting in to Valentia for the purpose of shifting it, the spare one having in the mean time been temporarily repaired. With this object we anchored in the snug little harbour of Valentia, on the 27th of October, and here Captain Nares and several of the officers left for the purpose of proceeding at once to London to report our arrival.
“Now, strike your sayles, yee jolly mariners,For we be come unto a quiet rode,Where we must land some of our passengersAnd light this wearie vessel of her lode.Here she awhile may make her safe abode.”
“Now, strike your sayles, yee jolly mariners,
For we be come unto a quiet rode,
Where we must land some of our passengers
And light this wearie vessel of her lode.
Here she awhile may make her safe abode.”
It is in vain to attempt to describe the pleasure we all felt at beholding trees and green fields once more, with the cattle browsing in them. It is difficult at once to throw off old habits, and there were many on board who expressed their anxiety to land at once with their guns for the purpose of shooting “that herd of musk-oxen.” Had we given way to our inclinations, I fear our reception would not have been so warm or so hospitable as it was.
The people of Valentia were the first to bid us welcome. Their kindness and hospitality will never be effaced from our memory. The rudder having been shifted, and sundry repairs executed, we took our departure on the following morning at daylight, being guided out of the place by a most eccentric and original old pilot. On the 29th we reached Queenstown, where we found the “Discovery” had arrived only acouple of hours before. Here again we received a warm welcome and enjoyed that hearty hospitality for which the Irish people are so justly celebrated. That evening we were the guests of the Port Admiral, he and Mrs. Hillyar hearing of no refusal, although we had to sit down to dinner in—well, clothes very dirty and very much the worse for wear. The next day, having taken in a supply of coals, we started for Portsmouth, the two ships remaining in company and arriving in that harbour together on the 2nd of November.
Our reception there and afterwards is a matter of history. Suffice it to say that our exertions received the approbation of our country and of our brother officers, and that the Lords of the Admiralty were pleased to express their satisfaction at the manner in which the expedition had been conducted by our leader, as well as at the way in which the work had been carried out by his subordinates.
My story has now come to an end. My aim has been to describe our daily life during a very eventful service.
I have quoted largely from my journal, and in some instances I have thought it best to copy from itverbatim.
Nothing is further from my thoughts than to claim for this narrative any literary merit whatever. I simply wish it to be regarded as a plain but accurate statement of facts—an unpretending account of the cruise of one of the ships of the late expedition—by one of its members.
In launching my little book upon the ocean of literature, I venture to quote the words of brave oldMaster Beste, who, being engaged in compiling a record of another Arctic expedition, humbly apologizes, as I do, for submitting his work to the public:—“And herein I humbly pray pardon, for my rude order of writing, which proceedeth from the barren brayne of a souldier and one professing armes, who desireth rather to be wel thought of with your honour for his well meaning than for anye hys cunning writing at all.”
INDEX.