THE FLOATING ISLAND
Soon after leaving the islands of the South Seas we encountered heavy
weather, a tempest, the worst we had experienced, driving us before it
to the south. The storm lasted for more than a week without abatement,
and during this time we covered many leagues of sea. Owing to the sun
being obscured, it was impossible to ascertain our whereabouts, but
Hartog reckoned we had passed through the Straits set down on an early
chart as named after Le Maire. But for skilful handling we would have
lost our ship, so prolonged was the gale, and when, at length, the
weather moderated, we found that much damage had been done to our
rigging and deck-gear. This made it necessary for us to effect repairs,
and while so engaged we continued to run before the wind to the south.
As we proceeded, the cold became intense, while the wind gradually
decreased. One morning, at sunrise, a snow-covered land rose before our
astonished eyes. The sun shining upon it produced an effect which, for
beauty, I had never seen, equalled. Immense ranges of mountains rose
from a flat surface, their summits lost in fleecy clouds, while from
one of the mountain tops, incredible as it may appear, belched smoke
and fire as from the crater of an active volcano. It may well be
believed with what astonishment we beheld a burning mountain in the
midst of snow and ice. We coasted for some distance along the shore of
this new continent, which formed an ice barrier rising in a long
perpendicular line from the sea, making a landing impossible.
When the repairs to our ship had been effected, we hauled our wind, and
stood away northward, when we found ourselves surrounded by masses of
floating ice. In no record of any voyage that Hartog or I knew of is
any mention made of this phenomenon, so we concluded we were the first
to see it. The farther we went the more numerous became the icebergs,
and the more difficult the navigation owing to fogs and mists. The
whole surface of the water as far as the eye could reach was covered by
dense masses of ice, and had not the breeze freshened so that we were
able to avoid the ice pack, we might never have made our way to the
open sea. Some of the icebergs were beautifully formed, and the
countless prisms of which they were composed glowed in the sun's rays
with the delicate colour of the rainbow.
Next day the wind had fallen to a calm, and we rode upon a sea of
glass. We had left the pack ice, but before us stretched an island of
such extent that the end of it could not be seen. This island rose to
the height of twenty feet. It was perfectly flat, with steep,
perpendicular sides, which made it inaccessible to man. From the
masthead, however, it was possible to observe its surface, which we saw
to be covered by a vast number of penguins, so we knew a landing must
be available somewhere, for these birds are wingless. This island was
composed entirely of ice, it being, as Hartog reckoned, a glacier which
had broken off from the main continent into the sea. It was drifting
north, and would gradually melt in the warmer atmosphere to which the
current was taking it, but many years must elapse before this would
happen.
That evening we remained in the vicinity of the island. The twilight of
this region in which we now found ourselves continued without fading
into night, and to add to the beauty of the scene an aureola appeared
in the sky. It was a sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. A world
of perpetual day.
With the return of sunlight Hartog determined, if possible, to effect a
landing, and leaving the "Arms of Amsterdam" in charge of Janstins, the
cutter was manned, in which the captain and I set out for the shore.
After pulling for some distance; and when almost out of sight of our
ship, we came to a kind of platform where the ice was broken, making it
possible to climb to the top of the island. We had no sooner set foot
there than we were surrounded by penguins. They came waddling towards
us in the most comical fashion, nor were they in the least afraid of
us. The presence of man for the first time in these latitudes appeared
to inspire them more with curiosity than alarm.
The attentions shown us by these remarkable birds, however, soon caused
us considerable inconvenience. They crowded upon us in such numbers
that it was difficult to force our way through them, either farther on
to the island or back to the boat. Some of them stood four feet high,
and although they made no attempt to molest us, the bulk of their
bodies (the ones at the back pressing upon those in front) made it
difficult to push by. It was like passing along a densely-crowded
thoroughfare. So numerous became the penguins that Hartog ordered a
return to the boat. We did not like to kill these birds, as they
appeared harmless, and the trust they showed in us was surprising. When
we came to the landing place we found it covered with small fur-coated
seals, who also showed no fear of us, and made no attempt to escape
when we approached them. The skins of these creatures we knew to be
rare and of value, so we were impelled to slaughter some of them for
their fur coats, and also to give us a supply of fresh meat; but their
large brown eyes looked at us so sorrowfully when we attacked them that
we had not the heart to kill more than was necessary for our immediate
needs. It was too much like murder.
The penguins followed us down to the landing-place, until it was full
to overflowing. Some of the birds pushed the others into the water in
their eagerness to witness the killing of the seals, which they
appeared to be discussing with much interest.
A breeze springing up, we returned to the ship, and toward evening,
still steering northward, the floating island was lost to view.
We were now in better spirits than heretofore. We had filled our water
tanks from the ice floes, and supplied ourselves with sufficient fresh
seal meat to last until we came to a warmer climate, to begin again our
search for the Island of Gems. The men we had with us upon this voyage
were a better class than were the crew of the "Endraght", and we had no
fear of mutiny. There were grumblings occasionally at the length of
the voyage, but these vanished at each fresh adventure. Sailors, as a
rule, are easily led, and if there is no evil influence at work among
them they seldom incline to mutiny when they know that the safety of
all depends upon discipline and obedience to the captain's orders.