CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE ARCTIC SUMMER.—THE FLORA.—THE ICE DISSOLVING.—A SUMMER STORM OF RAIN, HAIL, AND SNOW.—THE TERRACES.—ICE ACTION.—UPHEAVAL OF THE COAST.—GEOLOGICAL INTEREST OF ICEBERGS AND THE LAND-ICE.—A WALRUS HUNT.—THE "FOURTH."—VISIT TO LITTLETON ISLAND.—GREAT NUMBERS OF EIDER-DUCKS AND GULLS.—THE ICE BREAKING UP.—CRITICAL SITUATION OF THE SCHOONER.—TAKING LEAVE OF THE ESQUIMAUX.—ADIEU TO PORT FOULKE.
THE ARCTIC SUMMER.—THE FLORA.—THE ICE DISSOLVING.—A SUMMER STORM OF RAIN, HAIL, AND SNOW.—THE TERRACES.—ICE ACTION.—UPHEAVAL OF THE COAST.—GEOLOGICAL INTEREST OF ICEBERGS AND THE LAND-ICE.—A WALRUS HUNT.—THE "FOURTH."—VISIT TO LITTLETON ISLAND.—GREAT NUMBERS OF EIDER-DUCKS AND GULLS.—THE ICE BREAKING UP.—CRITICAL SITUATION OF THE SCHOONER.—TAKING LEAVE OF THE ESQUIMAUX.—ADIEU TO PORT FOULKE.
The reader will have observed the marvelous change that had come over the face of Nature since the shadow of the night had passed away. Recalling those chapters which recount the gloom and silence of the Arctic night,—the death-like quiet which reigned in the endless darkness,—the absence of every living thing that could relieve the solitude of its terrors,—he will perhaps hardly have been prepared to see, without surprise, the same landscape covered with an endless blaze of light, the air and sea and earth teeming with life, the desert places sparkling with green, and brightening with flowers,—the mind finding everywhere some new object of pleasure, where before there was but gloom. The change of the Arctic winter to the Arctic summer is indeed the change from death to life; and the voice which speaks to the sun and the winds, and brings back the joyous day, is that same voice which said
"She is not dead, but sleepeth,"—
"She is not dead, but sleepeth,"—
"She is not dead, but sleepeth,"—
"She is not dead, but sleepeth,"—
and the pulseless heart was made to throb again, and the bloom returned to the pallid cheek.
THE ARCTIC SUMMER.
There is truly a rare charm in the Arctic summer, especially if watched unfolding from the darkness, and followed through the growing warmth, until the snows are loosened from the hills and the fountains burst forth, and the feeble flower-growths spring into being, and the birds come back with their merry music; and then again as it passes away, under the dark shadow of a sunless sky,—the fountains sealing up, the hill-sides and valleys taking on again the white robes of winter and the stillness of the tomb, the birds in rapid flight with the retreating day, and the mantle of darkness settling upon the mountains, and overspreading the plain.
To describe the summer as I have before described the winter, and to attempt fully to picture in detail those features which give it such a striking contrast to the winter as is not seen in any other quarter of the world, would too far prolong this narrative; and I will therefore content myself with selecting from my diary such extracts as will show the progress of the season, and those occupations of myself and associates that bore upon the purposes which we had mainly in view.
June 22d.
It is just six months since I wrote, "The sun has reached to-day its greatest southern declination, and we have passed the Arctic midnight;" and now the sun has reached its greatest northern declination, and we have passed the Arctic noonday. Constant light has succeeded constant darkness, a bright and cheerful world has banished a painful solitude;—
"The winter is past and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come;"
"The winter is past and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come;"
and the long night which the glad day has succeeded is remembered as a strange dream.
June 23d.
ARCTIC FLORA.
A bright day, with the thermometer at 47°, and light wind from the south. I have been out with my young assistants collecting plants and lichens. The rocks are almost everywhere covered with the latter,—one variety, orange in color, grows in immense patches, and gives a cheerful hue to the rocks, while another, thetripe de roche, which is still more abundant, gives a mournful look to the stony slopes which it covers. I have brought in a fine assortment of flowers, and it seems as if the plants are now mostly in bloom. They have blossomed several days earlier than at Van Rensselaer Harbor in 1854. I have had a bouquet of them in my cabin for many days past, and from the banks of the little lake behind the Observatory I can always replenish it at will.[15]
[15]Not wishing to interrupt the text with details which would have little interest for the general reader, I give here the complete flora (so far as a most persistent effort could make it so) of the region northward from Whale Sound. Most of the plants were found at Port Foulke. My collections numbered several thousand specimens, which my kind friend, Mr. Elias Durand, of Philadelphia, was good enough to assist me in arranging, and afterward to classify in a paper for the "Proceedings" of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, from which I give the following list:—1.Ranunculus nivalis.2.Papaver nudicaule.3.Hesperis Pallasii.4.Draba Alpina.5.Draba corymbosa.6.Draba hirta.7.Draba glacialas.8.Draba rupestris.9.Cochlearia officinalis.10.Vesicaria Arctica.11.Arenaria Arctica.12.Stellaria humifusa.13.Stellaria Stricta.14.Cerastium Alpinum.15.Silene acaulis.16.Lychnis apetala.17.Lychnis panciflora.18.Dryas integrifolia.19.Dryas octopetala.20.Potentilla pulchella.21.Potentilla nivalis.22.Alchemilla vulgaris.23.Saxifraga oppositifolia.24.Saxifraga flagellaris.25.Saxifraga cæspitosa.26.Saxifraga rivularis.27.Saxifraga tricuspidata.28.Saxifraga cornua.29.Saxifraga nivalis.30.Leontodon palustre.31.Campanula linifolia.32.Vaccinium uliginosum.33.Andromeda tetragona.34.Pyrola chlorantha.35.Bartsia Alpina.36.Pedicularis Kanei.37.Armeria Labradorica.38.Polygonum viviparum.39.Oxyria didyma.40.Empetrum nigrum.41.Betula nana.42.Salix Arctica.43.Salix herbacea.44.Luzula(too young).45.Carex rigida.46.Eriophorum vaginatum.47.Alopecurus Alpinus.48.Glyceria Arctica.49.Poa Arctica.50.Poa Alpina.51.Hierocloa Alpina.52.Festuca ovina.53.Lycopodium annotinum.
[15]Not wishing to interrupt the text with details which would have little interest for the general reader, I give here the complete flora (so far as a most persistent effort could make it so) of the region northward from Whale Sound. Most of the plants were found at Port Foulke. My collections numbered several thousand specimens, which my kind friend, Mr. Elias Durand, of Philadelphia, was good enough to assist me in arranging, and afterward to classify in a paper for the "Proceedings" of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, from which I give the following list:—
1.Ranunculus nivalis.2.Papaver nudicaule.3.Hesperis Pallasii.4.Draba Alpina.5.Draba corymbosa.6.Draba hirta.7.Draba glacialas.8.Draba rupestris.9.Cochlearia officinalis.10.Vesicaria Arctica.11.Arenaria Arctica.12.Stellaria humifusa.13.Stellaria Stricta.14.Cerastium Alpinum.15.Silene acaulis.16.Lychnis apetala.17.Lychnis panciflora.18.Dryas integrifolia.19.Dryas octopetala.20.Potentilla pulchella.21.Potentilla nivalis.22.Alchemilla vulgaris.23.Saxifraga oppositifolia.24.Saxifraga flagellaris.25.Saxifraga cæspitosa.26.Saxifraga rivularis.27.Saxifraga tricuspidata.
28.Saxifraga cornua.29.Saxifraga nivalis.30.Leontodon palustre.31.Campanula linifolia.32.Vaccinium uliginosum.33.Andromeda tetragona.34.Pyrola chlorantha.35.Bartsia Alpina.36.Pedicularis Kanei.37.Armeria Labradorica.38.Polygonum viviparum.39.Oxyria didyma.40.Empetrum nigrum.41.Betula nana.42.Salix Arctica.43.Salix herbacea.44.Luzula(too young).45.Carex rigida.46.Eriophorum vaginatum.47.Alopecurus Alpinus.48.Glyceria Arctica.49.Poa Arctica.50.Poa Alpina.51.Hierocloa Alpina.52.Festuca ovina.53.Lycopodium annotinum.
June 25th.
SUMMER SHOWERS.
A rainy day for a novelty. Nearly an inch of water has fallen already, and it still continues to patter upon the deck. I was out completing my geological collections when the shower began, and not only got thoroughly soaked, but had like to have got killed into the bargain; for, in attempting to cross a small glacier which lay on the side of a hill, my feet flew up in consequence of the water making it more slippery, and I slid down over the ice and the stones which stuck up through it, and was finally landed among the rocks below with many bruises and not much clothing.
The thermometer has stood at 48°, and the continuance of the warmth since the 20th, together with this "gentle rain from heaven," is telling upon the ice. It is getting very rotten, and the sea is eating into it rapidly. The "hinge" of the ice-foot is tumbling to pieces, and we have trouble in getting ashore.
June 26th.
A SUMMER STORM.
Our summer shower has changed its complexion, and the "gentle rain" is converted into hail and snow, quite as unseasonable as it is disagreeable. The white snow with which a fierce wind has bespattered thecliffs gives a very un-June-like aspect to the prospect from the deck. The wind is southerly, and the waves, coming into the bay with no other resistance than that given by a few icebergs, begin to shake the ice about the schooner, and we can see the pulsations of the seas in the old fire-hole. I should not much relish seeing the ice crumbling to pieces about us in the midst of such a storm.
June 27th.
The storm continues,—occasional rain, mixed up with a great deal of hail. The scene from the deck, to seaward, was so wild that I was tempted to the nearest island, (the only one of the three not in open water,) to get a better view of it. I had much trouble facing the wind, and was nearly blown into the sea, and the hail cut the face terribly. The little flowers, which had been seduced by the warm sun of last week into unveiling their modest faces, seemed shrinking and dejected.
I was, however, repaid for some discomfort by the scene which I have brought back in my memory, and which is to go down on a sheet of clean white paper that is now drying on a drawing-board which I owe to McCormick's ingenuity. I have not seen the equal of this storm except once—a memorable occasion—last year, when we were fighting our way into Smith Sound. The wind seemed, as it did then, fairly to shovel the water up and pitch it through the air, until it had to stop from sheer exhaustion, and then I could see away off under a dark cloud a vast multitude of white specks creeping from the gloom, and moving along in solid phalanx, magnifying as they came, and charging the icebergs, hissing over their very summits, or breaking their heads upon the islands, orwreaking their fury on the ice of the harbor, into which their Titan touch opened many a gaping wound.
June 28th.
FRESH EGGS.
The storm subsiding this morning, a party got a boat over the ice into the water, and, pulling to the outer island, brought back the first fresh eggs of the season. Those of the little tern or sea-swallow are the most delightful eggs that I have ever tasted. Those of the eider-duck are, like the eggs of all other duck, not very palatable. Knorr lit upon a patch of cochlearia which had just sprouted up around the bird-nests of the last year, and no head of the first spring lettuce was ever more enjoyed. I had a capital salad. The islands promise to give us all the eggs we want, and we shall have little more trouble in getting them than a housewife who sends to the farm-yard. The ducks have plucked the first instalment of down from their breasts, and Jensen has brought in a good-sized bagful of it. The poor birds have been, I fear, robbed to little purpose, and will have to pick themselves again. Jensen tells me that, upon the islands near Upernavik, where he has often gone for eider-down, the male bird is sometimes obliged to pluck off his handsome coat, to help out his unhappy spouse, when she has been so often robbed that she can pluck no more of the tender covering for her eggs from her naked breast.
June 30th.
Another rain-storm, during which half an inch of water has fallen. The temperature has gone down to 38°. The ice is loosening, and threatens to break up bodily.
July 2d.
UPHEAVAL OF THE GREENLAND COAST.
I have been occupied during the past two days with running a set of levels from the harbor across to the fiord and with plotting the terraces. These terraces are twenty-three in number and rise very regularly to an altitude of one hundred and ten feet above the mean tide-level. The lowest rises thirty-two feet higher than the tide, but above this they climb up with great regularity. They are composed of small pebbles rounded by water action.
GEOLOGICAL CHANGES.
Of these terraces I have frequently made mention in this journal, and their existence in all similar localities has been before remarked. They have much geological interest, as illustrating the gradual upheaval of that part of Greenland lying north of latitude 76°; and the interest attaching to them is heightened when viewed in connection with the corresponding depression which has taken place, even within the period of Christian occupation, in southern Greenland. These evidences of the sinking of the Greenland coast from about Cape York, southward, are too well known to need any comment in this place; but I may dwell, for a few moments, upon the evidences of rising of the coast here and northward. At many conspicuous points, where the current is swift and the ice is pressed down upon the land with great force and rapidity, the rocks are worn away until they are as smooth and polished as the surface of a table,—a fact which may at any time be observed by looking down through the clear water. This smoothness of the rock continues above the sea, to an elevation which I have not been able with positive accuracy to determine in any locality, but having a general correspondence to the height of the terraces atPort Foulke, which, as before observed, rise one hundred and ten feet above the sea-level. At Cairn Point the abrasion is very marked, and, where the polished line of syenitic rock leaves off and the rough rock begins, is quite clearly defined. This same condition also exists at Littleton Island (or, rather, McGary Island, which lies immediately outside of it) to an almost equally marked degree. I have before mentioned the evidences of a similar elevation of the opposite coast found in the terraced beaches of Grinnell Land.
It is curious to observe here, actually taking place before our eyes, those geological events which have transpired in southern latitudes during the glacier epoch, not only in the abrasion of the rock as seen at Cairn Point and elsewhere, but in the changes which they work in the deeper sea. In this agency the ice-foot bears a conspicuous influence. This ice-foot is but a shelf of ice, as it were, glued against the shore, and is the winter-girdle of all the Arctic coasts. It is wide or narrow as the shore slopes gently into the sea or meets it abruptly. It is usually broken away toward the close of every summer, and the masses of rock which have been hurled down upon it from the cliffs above are carried away and dropped in the sea, when the raft has loosened from the shore and drifted off, steadily melting as it floats. The amount of rock thus transported to the ocean is immense, and yet it falls far short of that which is carried by the icebergs; the rock and sand imbedded in which, as they lay in the parent glacier, being sometimes sufficient to bear them down under the weight until but the merest fragment rises above the surface. As the berg melts, the rocks and sand fall to the bottom of the ocean; and, if the place of their deposit should one day riseabove the sea-level, some geological student of future ages may, perhaps, be as much puzzled to know how they came there as those of the present generation are to account for the boulders of the Connecticut valley.
July 3d.
A WALRUS HUNT.
I have had a walrus hunt and a most exciting day's sport. Much ice has broken adrift and come down the Sound, during the past few days; and, when the sun is out bright and hot, the walrus come up out of the water to sleep and bask in the warmth on the pack. Being upon the hill-top this morning to select a place for building a cairn, my ear caught the hoarse bellowing of numerous walrus; and, upon looking over the sea I observed that the tide was carrying the pack across the outer limit of the bay, and that it was alive with the beasts, which were filling the air with such uncouth noises. Their numbers appeared to be even beyond conjecture, for they extended as far as the eye could reach, almost every piece of ice being covered. There must have been, indeed, many hundreds or even thousands.
Hurrying from the hill, I called for volunteers, and quickly had a boat's crew ready for some sport. Putting three rifles, a harpoon, and a line into one of the whale-boats, we dragged it over the ice to the open water, into which it was speedily launched.
We had about two miles to pull before the margin of the pack was reached. On the cake of ice to which we first came, there were perched about two dozen animals; and these we selected for the attack. They covered the raft almost completely, lying huddled together, lounging in the sun or lazily rolling and twisting themselves about, as if to exposesome fresh part of their unwieldy bodies to the warmth,—great, ugly, wallowing sea-hogs, they were evidently enjoying themselves, and were without apprehension of approaching danger. We neared them slowly, with muffled oars.
As the distance between us and the game steadily narrowed, we began to realize that we were likely to meet with rather formidable antagonists. Their aspect was forbidding in the extreme, and our sensations were perhaps not unlike those which the young soldier experiences who hears for the first time the order to charge the enemy. We should all, very possibly, have been quite willing to retreat had we dared own it. Their tough, nearly hairless hides, which are about an inch thick, had a singularly iron-plated look about them, peculiarly suggestive of defense; while their huge tusks, which they brandished with an appearance of strength that their awkwardness did not diminish, looked like very formidable weapons of offense if applied to a boat's planking or to the human ribs, if one should happen to find himself floundering in the sea among the thick-skinned brutes. To complete the hideousness of a facial expression which the tusks rendered formidable enough in appearance, Nature had endowed them with broad flat noses, which were covered all over with stiff whiskers, looking much like porcupine quills, and extending up to the edge of a pair of gaping nostrils. The use of these whiskers is as obscure as that of the tusks; though it is probable that the latter may be as well weapons of offense and defense as for the more useful purpose of grubbing up from the bottom of the sea the mollusks which constitute their principal food. There were two old bulls in the herd who appearedto be dividing their time between sleeping and jamming their tusks into each other's faces, although they appeared to treat the matter with perfect indifference, as they did not seem to make any impression on each other's thick hides. As we approached, these old fellows—neither of which could have been less than sixteen feet long, nor smaller in girth than a hogs-head—raised up their heads, and, after taking a leisurely survey of us, seemed to think us unworthy of further notice; and, then punching each other again in the face, fell once more asleep. This was exhibiting a degree of coolness rather alarming. If they had showed the least timidity, we should have found some excitement in extra caution; but they seemed to make so light of our approach that it was not easy to keep up the bold front with which we had commenced the adventure. But we had come quite too far to think of backing out; so we pulled in and made ready for the fray.
Beside the old bulls, the group contained several cows and a few calves of various sizes,—some evidently yearlings, others but recently born, and others half or three quarters grown. Some were without tusks, while on others they were just sprouting; and above this they were of all sizes up to those of the big bulls, which had great curved cones of ivory, nearly three feet long. At length we were within a few boats' lengths of the ice-raft, and the game had not taken alarm. They had probably never seen a boat before. Our preparations were made as we approached. The walrus will always sink when dead, unless held up by a harpoon-line; and there were therefore but two chances for us to secure our game—either to shoot the beast dead on the raft, or toget a harpoon well into him after he was wounded, and hold on to him until he was killed. As to killing the animal where he lay, that was not likely to happen, for the thick skin destroys the force of the ball before it can reach any vital part, and indeed, at a distance, actually flattens it; and the skull is so heavy that it is hard to penetrate with an ordinary bullet, unless the ball happens to strike through the eye.
To Miller, a cool and spirited fellow, who had been after whales on the "nor-west coast," was given the harpoon, and he took his station at the bows; while Knorr, Jensen, and myself kept our places in the stern-sheets, and held our rifles in readiness. Each selected his animal, and we fired in concert over the heads of the oarsmen. As soon as the rifles were discharged, I ordered the men to "give way," and the boat shot right among the startled animals as they rolled off pell-mell into the sea. Jensen had fired at the head of one of the bulls, and hit him in the neck; Knorr killed a young one, which was pushed off in the hasty scramble and sank; while I planted a minie-ball somewhere in the head of the other bull and drew from him a most frightful bellow,—louder, I venture to say, than ever came from wild bull of Bashan. When he rolled over into the water, which he did with a splash that sent the spray flying all over us, he almost touched the bows of the boat and gave Miller a good opportunity to get in his harpoon, which he did in capital style.
The alarmed herd seemed to make straight for the bottom, and the line spun out over the gunwale at a fearful pace; but, having several coils in the boat, the end was not reached before the animals began to rise, and we took in the slack and got ready for what wasto follow. The strain of the line whipped the boat around among some loose fragments of ice, and the line having fouled among it, we should have been in great jeopardy had not one of the sailors promptly sprung out, cleared the line, and defended the boat.
In a few minutes the whole herd appeared at the surface, about fifty yards away from us, the harpooned animal being among them. Miller held fast to his line, and the boat was started with a rush. The coming up of the herd was the signal for a scene which baffles description. They uttered one wild concerted shriek, as if an agonized call for help; and then the air was filled with answering shrieks. The "huk! huk! huk!" of the wounded bulls seemed to find an echo everywhere, as the cry was taken up and passed along from floe to floe, like the bugle-blast passed from squadron to squadron along a line of battle; and down from every piece of ice plunged the startled beasts, as quickly as the sailor drops from his hammock when the long-roll beats to quarters. With their ugly heads just above the water, and with mouths wide open, belching forth the dismal "huk! huk! huk!" they came tearing toward the boat.
In a few moments we were completely surrounded, and the numbers kept multiplying with astonishing rapidity. The water soon became alive and black with them.
They seemed at first to be frightened and irresolute, and for a time it did not seem that they meditated mischief; but this pleasing prospect was soon dissipated, and we were forced to look well to our safety.
WALRUS HUNT
WALRUS HUNT
WALRUS HUNT
That they meditated an attack there could no longer be a doubt. To escape the onslaught was impossible. We had raised a hornet's nest about our ears in a most astonishingly short space of time, and we must do the best we could. Even the wounded animal to which we were fast turned upon us, and we became the focus of at least a thousand gaping, bellowing mouths.
It seemed to be the purpose of the walrus to get their tusks over the gunwale of the boat, and it was evident that, in the event of one such monster hooking on to us, the boat would be torn in pieces and we would be left floating in the sea helpless. We had good motive therefore to be active. Miller plied his lance from the bows, and gave many a serious wound. The men pushed back the onset with their oars, while Knorr, Jensen, and myself loaded and fired our rifles as rapidly as we could. Several times we were in great jeopardy, but the timely thrust of an oar, or the lance, or a bullet saved us. Once I thought we were surely gone. I had fired, and was hastening to load; a wicked-looking brute was making at us, and it seemed probable that he would be upon us. I stopped loading, and was preparing to cram my rifle down his throat, when Knorr, who had got ready his weapon, sent a fatal shot into his head. Again, an immense animal, the largest that I had ever seen and with tusks apparently three feet long, was observed to be making his way through the herd with mouth wide open, bellowing dreadfully. I was now as before busy loading; Knorr and Jensen had just discharged their pieces, and the men were well engaged with their oars. It was a critical moment, but, happily, I was in time. The monster, his head high above the boat, was within two feet of the gunwale, when I raised my piece and fired into his mouth. Thedischarge killed him instantly, and he went down like a stone.
This ended the fray. I know not why, but the whole herd seemed suddenly to take alarm, and all dove down with a tremendous splash almost at the same instant. When they came up again, still shrieking as before, they were some distance from us, their heads all now pointed seaward, making from us as fast as they could go, their cries growing more and more faint as they retreated in the distance.
We must have killed at least a dozen, and mortally wounded as many more. The water was in places red with blood, and several half-dead and dying animals lay floating about us. The bull to which we were made fast pulled away with all his might after the retreating herd, but his strength soon became exhausted; and, as his speed slackened, we managed to haul in the line, and finally approached him so nearly that our rifle-balls took effect, and Miller at length gave him thecoup de gracewith his lance. We then drew him to the nearest piece of ice, and I had soon a fine specimen to add to my Natural History collections. Of the others we secured only one; the rest had died and sunk before we reached them.
I have never before regarded the walrus as a really formidable animal; but this contest convinces me that I have done their courage great injustice. They are full of fight; and, had we not been very active and self-possessed, our boat would have been torn to pieces, and we either drowned or killed. A more fierce attack than that which they made upon us could hardly be imagined, and a more formidable looking enemy than one of these huge monsters, with his immense tusks and bellowing throat, would be difficult to find.Next time I try them I will arm my boat's crew with lances. The rifle is a poor reliance, and, but for the oars, the herd would have been on top of us at any time.
July 4th.
THE "GLORIOUS FOURTH."
The "glorious Fourth" gives us a sorry greeting—rain and hail and snow are unusual accompaniments to this national holiday. The thermometer has gone down almost to the freezing point; but, nevertheless, we have fired our salute, and have displayed our bunting, as in duty bound. Thanks to the hunters, we have had a good dinner of venison and birds, winding up with a cochlearia salad; and if we lacked the oration, we did not the less turn our thoughts to the ever dear land, where all are gay,—all alike forgetting for the time their differences of party creeds and party interests, unite together under the nation's broad banner, to hail the returning dawn of its wonderful career, and to drink bumpers to fraternal union. God bless the day!
July 7th.
I have been up to Littleton Island for three days, watching the ice, hunting, etc. We caught another walrus and had another fight, but this time we had fewer enemies, and drove them off very quickly.
Littleton and McGary Islands are literally swarming with birds, chiefly eider-ducks and burgomasters. There was no end to the number that could have been shot. The eggs have nearly all chicks in them, but fortunately we have already collected from the islands of the harbor a good supply. I found a flock of brant-geese, but could not discover their nests. The burgomaster-gulls are very numerous, but there were no ivory or other gulls, as I had hoped to find. They do not appear to come so far north.
PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE.
The open water has made still further inroads upon the ice. The islands are all now in the open sea, and it is but a few rods from the ship to its margin. The ice still clings tightly to the schooner, notwithstanding all our efforts to free her. In anticipation of a southerly swell setting into the harbor and breaking the ice, I have had the men at work for several days sawing a crack across the harbor from the vessel's fore-foot in the one direction, and from the stern-post in the other. The ice is now only 4½ feet thick.
The sails are all bent on, the hawsers are brought on board, our depot ashore is completed, and we are ready for any fortune. If blown with the ice out to sea, we are fully prepared.
Upon the hill-top of the north side of the harbor we have constructed a cairn, and under it I have deposited a brief record of the voyage. The Observatory I leave standing, and Kalutunah engages that the Esquimaux will not disturb it during my absence. All of them who have been here are so amply enriched that I think I ought to rely upon their good faith; yet the wood will be valuable to them, and these poor savages are not the only people who find it hard to resist temptation.
July 9th.
I have paid another visit to Chester Valley, and have had adieu to "Brother John." If the latter continues to grow until I come again, the stakes which I have stuck into its back will show some useful results. The valley was clothed in the full robes of summer. The green slopes were sparkling with flowers, and the ice had wholly disappeared from Alida Lake. Jensen shot some birds and tried hard to catch a deer, and while thus engaged I secured ayellow-winged butterfly, and—who would believe it?—a mosquito. And these I add to an entymological collection which already numbers ten moths, three spiders, two humble-bees, and two flies,—a pretty good proportion of the genusInsectafor this latitude, 78° 17´ N., longitude 73° W.
July 10th.
A heavy swell is setting into the harbor from the southwest. There has evidently been a strong southerly wind outside, although it has been blowing but lightly here. The ice has been breaking up through the day, and crack after crack is opening across the harbor. If it lasts twelve hours longer we will be liberated. It is a sort of crisis, and may be a dangerous one. The crashing of the ice is perfectly frightful. The schooner still holds fast in her cradle.
July 11th.
AFLOAT AGAIN!
We have passed through a day of much excitement, and are yet not free from it. The seas continuing to roll in, more cracks opened across the harbor, until the swell at length reached the vessel. Late this afternoon, after more than thirty-six hours of suspense, the ice opened close beside us, and after a few minutes another split came diagonally across the vessel. This was what I had feared, and it was to prevent it that I had sawed across the harbor. The ice was, however, quickly loosened from the bows, but held by the stern, and the wrenches given the schooner by the first few movements made every timber of her fairly creak again; but finally the sawed crack came to the rescue, and, separating a little, the schooner gave a lurch to port, which loosened the ice from under the counter, and we were really afloat, but grinding most uncomfortably, and are grinding still.
July 12th.
WAITING FOR A WIND.
The swell has subsided, the storm clouds have cleared away, and the tide is scattering the ice out over the sea. We are fairly and truly afloat, and once more cannot leave the deck without a boat. It is just ten months to a day since we were locked up, during which time our little craft has been a house rather than a ship. We are glad to feel again the motion of the sea; and "man the boat" seems a novel order to give when one wants to go ashore. We await only a wind to send us to sea.
July 13th.
Still calm, and we are lying quietly among the ice which so lately held us prisoners. I have been ashore, taking leave of my friends the Esquimaux. They have pitched their tents near by, and, poor fellows! I am truly sorry to leave them. They have all been faithful, each in his way, and they have done me most important service. The alacrity with which they have placed their dogs at my disposal (and without these dogs I could have done absolutely nothing) is the strongest proof that they could give me of their devotion and regard; for their dogs are to them invaluable treasures, without which they have no security against want and starvation, to themselves and their wives and children. True, I have done them some good, and have given them presents of great value, yet nothing can supply the place of a lost dog; and out of all that I obtained from them, there were but two animals that survived the hardships of my spring journey. These I have returned to their original owners. I have given them high hopes of my speedy return, and in this prospect they appear to take consolation.
It is sad to reflect upon the future of these strange people; and yet they contemplate a fate which they view as inevitable, with an air of indifference difficult to comprehend. The only person who seemed seriously to feel any pang at the prospect of the desolation which will soon come over the villages, is Kalutunah. This singular being—a mixture of seriousness, good-nature, and intelligence—seems truly to take pride in the traditions of his race, and to be really pained at the prospect of their downfall. When I took his hand to-day and told him that I would not come ashore any more, the tears actually started to his eyes, and I was much touched with his earnest words,—it was almost an entreaty,—"Come back and save us." Save them I would and will, if I am spared to return; and I am quite sure that upon no beings in the whole wide world could Christian love and Christian charity more worthily fall.
July 14th.
ADIEU TO PORT FOULKE.
Moving out to sea under full sail, with a light wind from the eastward. We make little progress, but are able to pick our way among the loose ice. As we pass along, I see shoals of old tin cans, dead dogs, piles of ashes, and other débris of the winter, floating on ice-rafts upon the sea,—relics of the ten months which are gone, with all its dreary and all its pleasant memories. As I retreated from the deck, I saw the Esquimaux standing on the beach, gazing after us; the little white Observatory grew dim in the distance; and I have come below with a kindly "Adieu, Port Foulke," lingering on the lip.