CHAPTER XIV.A GREENLAND BALL.
Mondaywas occupied by our party in a very agreeable and profitable manner—by the photographers especially, who, early in the day, took possession of one of the governor’s rooms, and photographed the whole town and nearly every body in it. The following day was fixed upon for our departure; but the only pilot in the place was otherwise employed, and we were forced to wait until he was ready for us. In short, he was bringing in another vessel, and one of infinitely more importance to Julianashaab than any number ofPanthers. It was the one ship of the year, a ship bringing to the colonists their supplies for the next twelve months, and was to return home laden with the wealth which they had gathered.
I do not remember any thing in all my experience in Greenland that has left a stronger impression upon my mind than the arrival of this ship, nor any thing which made the isolation of the Danes who dwelt there so apparent. In these days of telegraphs, and steamships, and quick transit everywhere, it is rather painful to contemplate civilized, refined, and Christian families being a whole year without once hearing from the world. To be sure, it has its advantages, for they are saved many annoyances, and are spared the everlasting bore of writing letters for the mail. But then, what hopes and fears the mail must come charged with when it comes but once a year! with what almost terrible anxiety they must look for news from home! what changes may have taken place in the yeargone by! what may Death not have done with the loved ones in that long interval! Fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, and friends, are sending tokens by that winged messenger across the sea; but what if they should be sad ones, and not those they hoped for?
When the announcement was made that the ship was in the offing, the excitement was at first intense, and the hours of the day while the ship was coming up the fiord, with baffling winds, were most anxious ones. Of course, there were many exceptions. Indeed, the people generally could have no other possible interest in the arrival of the ship than the mere selfish one of what they would gain thereby. I speak only of those Danish residents who were bred in Denmark, and whose friends dwell there now. To these, the arrival had something in it of a painful character, mingled with anticipated pleasure. Hope and fear seemed alternately to prevail in the breasts of the families of the governor, the pastor, and the doctor.
Meanwhile, every boat in the settlement had gone down to assist in towing up the ship; and at length the sound of splashing oars was heard upon the still night air; then voices were distinguished calling to each other or issuing the word of command. Soon, above the rocky point of the harbor, we saw the tops of two masts, with their black yards, creeping nearer and nearer; then a vessel burst in view, through the brilliant moonlight. The ship was now pointed for the harbor, and was coming slowly up beside us, towed by half a dozen boats, and surrounded by a swarm of men in their little kayaks, shouting, talking, and gesticulating, in their exuberant happiness.
I stood upon thePanther’sdeck watching this scene of animation, until the anchor had gone into the phosphorescent sea with its unearthly “cr-r-r-r-r-r-r-up.” The mooring-lines were soon all out and made fast. The crowd ofpeople then left the sea, and no sounds were heard but the orders on board the newly-arrived vessel for stowing the sails and making every thing snug on board. Then I heard people getting down into a boat; the oars were splashing again, and, as I traced the streak of phosphorescent light that trailed away and lengthened as the boat receded, I knew that it was carrying ashore the mail, with all its freight of words.
The vessel proved to be theTjalfe, one of the best of the Company’s vessels—a brig of three hundred tons, and as taut and tidy as a man-of-war. I had a visit from her master in the morning, and was rejoiced to find in him an old friend, to whom, in 1855, when I had escaped with Dr. Kane from the abandoned brigAdvance, I was indebted for many serviceable attentions—Captain Ammondsen, one of the most tried and trusty servants of the Royal Company.
Upon going ashore in the morning with Captain Ammondsen, I was pleased to learn that every body’s letters brought good news. We found them in a wilderness of papers, and books, and packages, containing every conceivable thing that thoughtful friends would think of sending to cheer and gladden lives that must be at times overwhelmed with loneliness. It was very touching to see these evidences of remembrance scattered about, and very gratifying to be a partaker of the general joy. Photographs were there by the dozen; one of a little stranger that had come into the world within the twelvemonth, and sent his compliments and his picture; another, of a newly-married couple, who looked peculiarly happy for people who had been married nearly six months, and sent their picture in proof of it; another was from an aged mother; another, from a brother who had gone into the army; another, from a boy at school. I went from house to house,and everywhere it was the same. Happiness was universal; and it really seemed as if solitude might be “sweet society,” if retirement brought such occasional bliss: only, the retirement of a year for the sake of the emotion is a little too much for ordinary mortals.
As for the people in general, they were delighted beyond expression. Nothing but the presence of actual starvation could possibly have induced any hunter to go out at such a time. Shouting and singing were the order of the day. The harbor was alive with their cunning little kayaks, shooting hither and thither, the boatmen indulging themselves in the most ludicrous speech and gesture, by way of exhibiting their satisfaction, not only at the arrival of the Danish ship, but that two vessels were in the harbor at one time—a sight which they had never seen before. Then, to cap the climax, when the evening came they would have a dance. Every body was invited, and, of course, none of the sailors of the two ships made any objection to a frolic of that nature. They had not shared the people’s satisfaction in the least; they would be glad enough, on the other hand, to be anywhere else almost; but a dance! what sailor could resist that? And as for our officers and passengers, all were alike ready for a little fun, to break the monotony of life, either as actors or spectators, and willing to take a hand in any thing that might be turning up.
I asked the governor if there was nothing to be feared from letting two ships’ companies loose among the peaceful villagers, where there were no police to take rude fellows into custody? “Oh no,” he answered, “not in the least; let them come. If the men are rude, the women will take care of themselves, I promise you; and if not, they have big brothers plenty. Have no fear; there are no more modest women in the world than these Greenlandgirls, and sailors are notoriously quick to detect honesty, and, when found, to respect it.”
So a dance was arranged for, or a “ball,” as our people facetiously called it. The carpenter-shop was secured for the occasion, and a neighboring shed for a supper-room; and the preparations went on all the afternoon. The orchestra of Julianashaab (consisting of a dilapidated keg with heads of tanned seal-hide, and the cracked fiddle already mentioned) was secured, and all was ready by eight o’clock, when I went ashore to see the opening.
The decorations of the ball-room in the way of flags, and Danish and American bunting generally, were astonishing to the natives. Candles were stuck around the room in reckless profusion. Maria had about a bushel of coffee, which she was roasting and boiling in the shed. The whole village was in commotion. Women in red boots, women in white boots, women in blue, and green, and yellow boots, were hurrying to the ball-room from every quarter. They had all turned out in their very best, and some of the toilets were, to say the least, stunning. Boots, beads, pantaloons, and ribbons were all of the gayest and the finest. The maidens and matrons of Julianashaab sustained the credit of their sex; and they showed, too, that they were conscious of appearing to better advantage than usual; for they looked about with less timidity than on ordinary occasions, as if to say, “Look at menow, and see what Icando when a great occasion makes it worth my while.” Several of them were pretty, and quite stylish, and certainly this is saying much, for their peculiar style of costume is rather trying to the ordinary female figure. As for dancing, no costume could possibly be more suitable, and, when on the floor, its advantages were quite apparent, for I have rarely seen dancers that were more light and graceful in their movements.I would not, however, be understood to recommend the dress for general adoption by dancing girls.
The confidence with which the ladies approached the ball-room seemed to forsake them when they had got inside and there awaited the men; for the moment they had passed the door they darted to the remotest corner, where they all huddled together as close as they could pack themselves, like a flock of frightened sheep run one by one into a pen. The men did not keep them long in this state of timid embarrassment; but they seemed, however, to be in no very particular hurry, sauntering along quite leisurely, with their hands in their pockets, and short clay pipes in their mouths. Most of them were capless, and none of them seemed to have thought of “dressing” for the occasion, except the Parliamentarians, who, out of respect for their own dignity (as I suppose), wore the official scarlet on their heads, royal emblems, gold lace, and all—a top-covering which, taken in connection with their Guernsey frocks, broad suspenders, and huge seal-skin pantaloons, coming up under the arm-pits, made a style of official get-up not, I fancy, to be seen in any other country. Yet the lord chancellor wears his frizzled wig, and why not they their scarlet caps?
The sailors came ashore from the two ships, jabbering away at each other quite frantically, in Danish and English; and the officers and passengers came likewise.
But where was Concordia the while, and where was the Prince? for they were to open the ball. The question was asked repeatedly, and as often remained unanswered. Whispers began to pass around the room. Had there been an elopement? Marcus was there, trying hard to look unconcerned by smoking a short clay pipe, and keeping his hands in their usual place of safety. Every body seemed to look to him for explanation.
At length the mystery was cleared up, and very suddenly, for the Prince came bouncing into the room holding Concordia by the hand. The arrival created a sensation. Concordia was literally dazzling. The Prince had clearly been assisting at her toilet. She was covered with beads and jewelry. A magnificent plaid shawl which the Prince had sported through the voyage, and which had two days before suddenly disappeared, now reappeared in the shape of a jaunty jacket, trimmed with eider-down, on Concordia’s graceful shoulders. And then, what shining pantaloons of the softest silver seal-skin! what spotless, snow-white boots inclosed her dainty little feet! But the Prince—ah! what a stunning get-up, to be sure! Sea-boots matching Concordia’s for length, if not in purity of color; a bright scarf across his shoulders and around his waist; a Scotch cap, with a dissipated feather in it—what a picture for a ball-room! No wonder that Marcus grew several shades lighter in color; no wonder that his pipe fell out of his mouth and broke in pieces on the floor; no wonder that he stole out of the room as if the place were too hot for him, and should show himself no more in the ball-room that night!
“Strike up!” shouted the Prince, bringing down a sea-boot on the floor. “Rat-tat-a-tat” went the keg, “cr-r-r-p cr-r-r-p cr-r-r-p” went the cracked fiddle, and then both went in to do their best and win; but the keg, having got the lead, kept it, and the cracked fiddle was nowhere. When both had become well warmed up in the race, the Prince brought down his sea-boot again, making the old carpenter-shop fairly quake and tremble; then, with a shout which was probably taken for an American war-whoop, he seized Concordia by the waist; others followed his example, and never did “Pop goes the Weasel” do duty before to such a whirl as followed.
CONCORDIA DRESSED FOR THE BALL.
CONCORDIA DRESSED FOR THE BALL.
The ball was opened! The Prince and Concordia had gracefully done their duty, and satisfied the public expectation. They had given countenance to the revelry, and the revelry went on. To say that it never stopped, would be to exaggerate; but to say that it never would have stopped had there been something of what Dick Swiveller called “the rosy,” might possibly be, to speak the truth, within bounds. The revellers certainly made “a night of it,” if a night ever was made in a Greenland summer. As it was, the coffee had all given out, a whole box of tobacco had disappeared, the keg had resolved itself into its original staves, and the cracked fiddle had but one string left, and that had been twice tied, when the ladies, with their beautiful boots all knocked out of shape, began to drag their weary bodies off to their huts, and the sailors, with their coats on their arms, hailed for boats.
Meanwhile, much consternation had been produced by a report which was set in circulation, that a Parliamentarian had danced himself away, all but his cap; and a girl had, in like manner, disappeared, all but a ribbon. The consternation was allayed, however, when it was discovered that the two had stolen away together, and were getting married at the parson’s.
Marcus never appeared again in the ball-room after his discomfiture; but I saw him crawling in the shadow of a rock, where he could look through the door and catch an occasional glimpse of his lady-love as she swung round in the Prince’s arms. He beckoned me to him, and whispered in my ear, pointing to the gay and festive room from which the bright light was streaming out into the night, “He no good; me” (pointing to his breast) “son of head man of Bungetak.” Saying which, he smiled in a self-satisfied and “bland-like” manner, and immediately drew himself deep within the shadow of the rock. Then Iwent my way on board, marvelling how very much a man was half-savage Marcus.
As this was my last visit ashore, I had bidden my friends good-bye, after exchanging some little souvenirs with them. Early in the morning the anchor was tripped, and we were away. The little town in the wilderness was at our backs, and we were threading once more the winding fiord among the islands and icebergs, rejoiced at having seen a spot of earth so full of romantic associations; had beheld its ruins,
“Trod upon them, and had setOur foot upon a rev’rend history.”“But these recede. Above me are the Alps,The palaces of Nature, whose vast wallsHave pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,And throned Eternity in icy hallsOf cold sublimity, where forms and fallsThe avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,Gather around these summits, as to showHow Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.”Childe Harold.
“Trod upon them, and had setOur foot upon a rev’rend history.”“But these recede. Above me are the Alps,The palaces of Nature, whose vast wallsHave pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,And throned Eternity in icy hallsOf cold sublimity, where forms and fallsThe avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,Gather around these summits, as to showHow Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.”Childe Harold.
“Trod upon them, and had setOur foot upon a rev’rend history.”
“Trod upon them, and had set
Our foot upon a rev’rend history.”
“But these recede. Above me are the Alps,The palaces of Nature, whose vast wallsHave pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,And throned Eternity in icy hallsOf cold sublimity, where forms and fallsThe avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,Gather around these summits, as to showHow Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.”Childe Harold.
“But these recede. Above me are the Alps,
The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,
And throned Eternity in icy halls
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls
The avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!
All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,
Gather around these summits, as to show
How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.”
Childe Harold.