CHAPTER XV.
THE ARCTIC MIDNIGHT.—SONNTAG STARTS FOR WHALE SOUND.—EFFECTS OF DARKNESS ON THE SPIRITS.—ROUTINE OF DUTIES.—CHRISTMAS EVE.—CHRISTMAS DAY.—THE CHRISTMAS DINNER.
THE ARCTIC MIDNIGHT.—SONNTAG STARTS FOR WHALE SOUND.—EFFECTS OF DARKNESS ON THE SPIRITS.—ROUTINE OF DUTIES.—CHRISTMAS EVE.—CHRISTMAS DAY.—THE CHRISTMAS DINNER.
December 22d.
The sun has reached to-day its greatest southern declination, and we have passed the Arctic Midnight. The winter solstice is to us the meridian day, as twelve o'clock is the meridian hour to those who dwell in lands where the sun comes three hundred and sixty-five times instead of once in the "revolving year."
To me these last four weeks have been eventful ones, and I hail this day with joy, and am glad to feel that we are now on the downward hill-side of the polar darkness. The death of my dogs fills me with sadness, and this sadness is doubled when I think that the disaster has sent Sonntag into the dangers of the night to remedy in season the evil.
Sonntag set out yesterday to reach the Esquimaux. We had talked the matter over from day to day, and saw clearly that it was the only thing to do. Hans told us that the Esquimaux would congregate about Cape York towards the spring, and it was evident that if we waited for daylight they would be beyond our reach. There seemed from Hans's story to be at least a reasonable probability that some of them might be at Sorfalik, or at other stations on the north side ofWhale Sound, and Hans had no doubt that the journey could be easily made, even if they had to travel to Northumberland Island, or beyond, to Netlik. He was eager to go, and Sonntag, impatient for the trial, was waiting only for the moon and settled weather. Hans was the only available driver, for he alone knew where to find the native villages, and three persons to one sledge was against all the cañons of Arctic traveling. Although my suspicions had been aroused against him at the time of Peter's disappearance, yet nothing had been proved, and Sonntag liked him quite as well as Jensen for a driver, and still retained faith in him. To take Jensen was to incumber himself with a useless hindrance. The journey would be a rapid one, and it was important to spare all needless weight. The disease among the dogs subsided six days ago, when the last death occurred, leaving nine good animals, all of which Sonntag took with him.
PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY.
But little time was required to prepare the party for the journey. Hans made for himself a buffalo bag wherein to sleep, and Sonntag carried for his own use one of bear-skin which he had brought from Upernavik. Their provisions were for twelve days, although it is not expected that they will be absent so long, for the distance can be made to Northumberland Island, if they are required to go so far, in two marches. Sonntag and myself made it in three marches in December, 1854. It is often made by the Esquimaux in one journey, and Hans seemed to look upon it as an easy and trifling task. They carried no tent, intending to rely upon the snow-hut, with the construction of which Hans is, of necessity, very familiar, and Sonntag has had, in years past, much experience. Theplan is that they are to pass over the glacier back of Cape Alexander, in case the ice should not be firm around the cape, and thence to make down the coast directly for Sorfalik. In the event of Esquimaux not being found at that place, they will cross over the Sound directly for Northumberland Island, unless they shall discover good reason for keeping along the coast twenty miles further for Peteravik.
The weather has been quite stormy up to yesterday, when it fell calm, and the thermometer stood at -21°. To-day it has grown much milder, and light snow is falling. The temperature is above zero, and every thing looks promising for the travelers. They have been absent now thirty-six hours, and have, no doubt, passed the cape and are well on the journey.
SONNTAG STARTS FOR WHALE SOUND.
Their start occasioned much excitement, and aroused the ship's company from a lethargic disposition into which they have lately seemed inclined to fall in spite of every thing. Sonntag was in excellent spirits, and felt confident that he would soon bring the Esquimaux and dogs; and he rejoiced over the prospect of a few days of adventure. Hans was lively and eager. He cracked his whip, the dogs bounded into their collars, and were off at a full gallop. The sledge glided glibly over the snow; and, as they plunged out into the moonlight, we sent after them the true nautical "Hip, hip, hurrah!" three times repeated, and then a "tiger."
December 23d.
I had a strange dream last night, which I cannot help mentioning; and, were I disposed to superstition, it might incline me to read in it an omen of evil. I stood with Sonntag far out on the frozen sea, when suddenly a crash was heard through the darkness, andin an instant a crack opened in the ice between us. It came so suddenly and widened so rapidly that he could not spring over it to where I stood, and he sailed away upon the dark waters of a troubled sea. I last saw him standing firmly upon the crystal raft, his erect form cutting sharply against a streak of light which lay upon the distant horizon.
ROUTINE OF DUTIES.
Our life moves on with unobstructed monotony. There are but few incidents to mark the progress of these tedious hours of darkness. If I have now some fears for Sonntag, yet I envy him, and cannot wonder at his eagerness to go, independent of his important object. A dash among the Esquimau villages, and a few days of combat with the storms would lift one out of the prolonged dullness of this waiting for the day. Any thing in the world is better than inaction and perpetual sameness. Rest and endless routine are our portion. The ship's duties and our social duties are performed from week to week with the same painfully precise regularity. We live by "bells," and this may be true in a double sense. "Bells" make the day, and mark the progress of time. But for these "bells," these endless "bells," I believe we should all lie down and sleep on through the eternal night, and wake not until the day dawned upon us in the long hereafter. "Bells" tell us the hours and the half hours, and change the "watch," and govern the divisons of time, as at sea. "One bell" calls us to breakfast, two to lunch, and "four bells" is the dinner summons. "Six bells" is the signal for putting out the lights, and at "seven bells" we open our eyes again to the same continuous pale glimmer of the kerosene lamp, and we awake again to the same endless routine of occupations, idleness, andennui.
ROUTINE OF DUTIES.
The hunters continue to chase the reindeer and foxes in the moonlight,—more, however, from habit and for exercise than from any encouragement they find in success; for, even when the moon shines, they can shoot only at random. The work at the observatory goes on, and when the magnetic "term day" comes round we clamber over the ice-foot every hour, and it marks an event. The occultations of Jupiter's satellites are carefully observed through the telescope, that our chronometers may not go astray; the tide continues to rise and fall, regardless of the vast load of ice that it lifts, and indifferent as to the fact that it is watched. Dodge keeps up his ice-measurements, and finds that the crystal table has got down to our keel (6½ feet), so that we are resting in a perfect cradle. That the sailors may have something to do, I have given them an hour's task each day sewing up canvas bags for the spring journeys. From the officers I continue to have the same daily reports; the newspaper comes out regularly, and continues to afford amusement; the librarian hands out the books every morning, and they are well read; the officers and the men have no new means of entertainment, and usually fill up the last of the waking hours (I cannot say the evening, where there is nothing else but night) with cards and pipes. I go into the cabin oftener than I used to; but I do not neglect my chess with Knorr, and, until Sonntag left us, I filled up a portion of every evening in converse with him, and, for the lack of any thing new, we talked over and over again of our summer plans, and calculated to a nicety the measure of our labor, and the share which each would take of the work laid out.
EFFECTS OF DARKNESS.
And thus we jog on toward the spring; but each hour of the darkness grows a little longer, and soaks a little more color from the blood, and takes a little more from the elasticity of the step, and adds a little more to the lengthening face, and checks little by little the cheerful laugh and the merry jest that come from the hold and cabin; and, without being willing to confess it openly, yet we are all forced to acknowledge to ourselves that the enemy does now and then get the better of us, and that we have often to renew the resolution. The novelty of our life is exhausted, and the outside world has nothing new. The moonlight comes and goes again, and the night glistens clear and cold over the white landscape; and the memory returns unbidden to other days that are fled and gone; and we miss in the sparkling air and the still hour of the winter night the jingling bells, and the sleigh which will always hold one more, and the wayside inn, and the smoking supper that "mine host" serves up, and the crackling blaze of country logs; and then, when we forget the moon, and the snow, and the frost, and recall the summer and the sunshine, we remember that "the seat in the shade of the hawthorn bush" is far away.
December 24th.
CHRISTMAS EVE.
Christmas Eve! What happy memories are recalled by the mention of that name! How much of youthful promise it brings back to the weary mind and to the aching heart! How potent is the charm, how magical the influence! A beam of light has fallen within this little ice-bound vessel, and from the promised morn we catch the same inspiration that has come to all mankind since "that bright and lovely star" first rose to the shepherds of Judea; forwherever we are on this wide, wide world, we find in the day the symbol which binds us all to one cherished hope. Gladness springs into being with the rising sun, and the Christmas bells, sending their merry voices on the wings of the returning light, encircle the earth in one continuous peal. Their chimes ring out glad tidings everywhere. The joyous music rejoices the lonely watcher on the sea, and the hunter who warms himself beside the embers of his smouldering fire; it penetrates the humble cabin of the slave and the hut of the weary emigrant; it reaches the wanderer on the steppes of Tartary, and the savage in the forest; it consoles the poor and the sorrowing, and the rich and the powerful; and to the sick and to the well alike, wherever they may be under the sun, it brings a blessed brightness;—and it gleams, too,
.... "on the eternal snows, beneath the Polar Star,And with a radiant Cross it lights the Southern deep afar.And Christmas morn is but the dawn, the herald of a dayThat circles in its boundless love, no winter, no decay."
.... "on the eternal snows, beneath the Polar Star,And with a radiant Cross it lights the Southern deep afar.And Christmas morn is but the dawn, the herald of a dayThat circles in its boundless love, no winter, no decay."
.... "on the eternal snows, beneath the Polar Star,And with a radiant Cross it lights the Southern deep afar.And Christmas morn is but the dawn, the herald of a dayThat circles in its boundless love, no winter, no decay."
.... "on the eternal snows, beneath the Polar Star,
And with a radiant Cross it lights the Southern deep afar.
And Christmas morn is but the dawn, the herald of a day
That circles in its boundless love, no winter, no decay."
I have never seen the ship so bright and cheerful. Sundry boxes have been produced from out-of-the-way corners, and from the magical manner of their appearance one might think that Santa Claus had charged himself with a special mission to this little world, before he had begun to fill the shoes and stockings and to give marriage portions to destitute maidens, in the dear old lands where he is patron of the "Christ Kinkle Eve," and where the silver cord binding the affections is freshened once a year with the Christmas offering. The cabin-table fairly groans under a mass of holiday fare,—kindly mementos from those who are talking about us to-night around the family fire-side.Shoals of bon-bons, and "Christmas cakes" of every imaginable kind, bearing all sorts of tender mottoes, come out of their tin cases, setting off prospective indigestion against glad hearts.
CHRISTMAS DAY.
Everybody has been busy to-day getting ready to celebrate the morrow and to keep the holidays. To this praiseworthy purpose I give, of course, every encouragement. The ship's stores contain nothing that is too good for the Christmas feast, which McCormick promises shall outdo that of his birthday. Unfortunately he will be unable to give it his personal attention, for he is laid up with a frosted foot which he got while hunting, in some manner known only to himself. As no one at home likes to confess that he has been run away with and thrown from his steed, so no one here cares to own to the power of Jack Frost over him. To be frost-bitten is the one standing reproach of this community.
December 26th.
Christmas has come and gone again, and has left upon the minds of all of us a pleasant recollection. To me it would have been a day of unalloyed pleasure, had it not been that my thoughts followed Sonntag, and dwelt upon the sad loss that I have suffered in the death of my dogs; for the people were gay and lively, and to see them thus is now my first concern. Aside from all sentiment connected with wishing people happy, to me it has another meaning, for it is the guaranty of health.
The ship's bell was hoisted to the mast-head, and while the bells of other lands were pealing through the sunlight, and over a world of gladness, ours sent its clear notes ringing through the darkness and thesolitude. After this we met together in the cabin, and gave our thanks in our own modest way for the blessings which kind Heaven had vouchsafed us; and then each one set himself about his allotted duties. It is needless to say that these duties concerned chiefly the preparation and advancement of every thing which concerned a "Christmas dinner." The officers dressed the cabin with flags, and the sailors decorated their walls and beams with stripes of red, white, and blue flannel which was loaned to them from the ship's stores. The schooner was illuminated throughout, and every lamp was called into requisition. An extra allowance of oil was granted to the occasion, and the upper-deck was refulgent with light. Two immense chandeliers were constructed for the dinner-tables, and some gold and silver paper, strings of spangles, and strips of braid, kindly presented to us by Mr. Horstmann for the winter theatricals, which have never come off, covered the wood of which they were composed, and gave them quite an air of splendor; while two dozen of spermacetti candles brilliantly illuminated the apartments in which they hung.
A short time before the dinner-hour I visited the men's quarters, at their request, and was as much gratified with the taste that they had exhibited as with the heartiness with which they entered into the spirit of the day. Every nook and corner of the hold was as clean and tidy as possible. Everybody was busy and delighted. The cook might, however, be regarded as an exception to the latter rule, for the success of everybody's projects depended upon his skill, and he was closely watched. I halted at his red-hot galley-stove, and wished him a merry Christmas. "Tank you, sar!" said he; "but I gets no timeto tink about de merry Christmas. De Commander see dese big reindeers." And he went on vigorously basting two fine haunches of venison which had been carefully treasured for the occasion, and putting the last touches to a kettle of tempting soup. Intending encouragement, I reminded him that his labors would be over with the serving of the dinner, when, with that consistency for which human nature is remarkable, especially in a ship's cook, he replied, "Please sar, so long as my Hebenly Fader gives me healt I likes to vork."
MERRY CHRISTMAS.
As I passed out of the hold into the officers' cabin, the crew sent after me three cheers, and three more for the expedition, and I don't know how many followed afterward for a "merry Christmas" to themselves. The upper-deck was light and cheerful with the multitude of lamps, and had been "cleared up" with unusual care; and from amidships every thing had been removed. This Knorr told me was his work, and I was informed that there was to be a "ball." The disposition to consume oil was contagious. Even the heathenish little wife of my absent hunter had managed to procure an additional supply, and rejoiced in an extra blaze in honor of the day, the meaning of which was all Greek to her. Her hut was a cheerful nest of furs, and little Pingasuik, with a strip of tough seal-blubber, substituted for one of Goodyear's patent arrangements for children's gums, was laughing and crowing as a Christian baby would be expected to do on this most Christian day. Jacob, fat Jacob, was grinning in one corner. Charley told me that he began grinning early in the morning, at the prospect of the many crumbs to come from so bounteous a feast; and, in order to prepare himself for the task, he hadswallowed a fox which Jensen brought in from one of his traps, and which he had turned over to the boy to skin. Out on the ice I found a boisterous group engaged around two large tin kettles. They were stirring something with wooden sticks, and I found that, at 34° below zero, they were making "water ice" and "Roman punch" by wholesale. They needed no chemical compounds for their "freezer."
At six o'clock I joined the officers at dinner. Our glass and crockery has, in some mysterious manner known only to the steward, been disappearing from the time of leaving Boston, but there is plenty of tin ware to supply the deficiency, and each cup contained a boquet of flowers, cut from tissue-paper, and a mammoth centre-piece of the same materials stood under the glittering chandelier. The dinner was much enjoyed by everybody, and if we lacked the orthodox turkey, the haunch was not a bad substitute.
AN ARCTIC BALL.
A PAS DE DEUX.
I remained until nine o'clock, and left the party to a merry evening. The hour for extinguishing the lights was put off at discretion; and, having myself granted this privilege, I cannot, of course, say that any of the proprieties of discipline or of ship-board life were interfered with. Rejoiced to see that the people had the spirit to be merry at all, I was only too glad to encourage them in it. Every part of the "Festival," as they facetiously call it, was conducted in a very orderly manner. The "ball" came off as promised, and when I went up, about midnight, to have a look at the merrymakers, I found Knorr, wrapped in furs, seated upon a keg, fiddling away in a very energetic manner, while Barnum and McDonald were going through a sailor's hornpipe with immenseeclat; then Carl swung the steward round inthe "giddy mazes of the waltz;" and, finally, Charley set the ship shaking with laughter by attempting apas de deuxwith Madame Hans. The old cook had crawled up the ladder from below, and, forgetting his troubles and his "reindeers," applauded the actors vociferously. But he was soon observed to be making off from the "gay and festive" scene. A dozen voices called loudly after him,—
"Hallo, cook!—come back and have a dance!"
"Vat for me dance, and make nonsense, ven dere be no vomens?"
"But here's Mrs. Hans, cook."
"Ugh!"—and he dove below.
Schooner in Winter Quarters