SUNRISE.
February 18th.
Heaven be praised! I have once more seen the sun.
Knowing that the sun would appear to-day, everybody was filled with
expectation, and hastened off after breakfast to some favorite spot
where it was thought that he might be seen. Some went in the right
direction, and were gratified; others went in the wrong direction, and
were disappointed. Knorr and others of the officers climbed the hills
above Etah. Charley limbered up his rheumatic old legs, and tried to
get a view from the north side of the harbor, forgetting that the
mountains intervened. Harris and Heywood climbed to the top of the hill
behind the harbor, and the former shook his Odd Fellow's flag in the
sun's very face. The cook was troubled that he did not have a look at
"de blessed sun;" but he could not gratify his wish without going upon
the land, and this he could no more be induced to do than the mountain
could be persuaded to come to Mahomet. He will probably have to wait
until the sun steals over the hills into the harbor, which will be at
least twelve days.
[Sidenote: SUNRISE.]
My own share in the day's excitement has been equal to the rest of
them. Accompanied by Dodge and Jensen, I set out at an early hour
toward a point on the north side of the bay, from which I could command
a view of the southern horizon. We had much difficulty in reaching our
destination. The open water came nearly a mile within the point for
which we were bound, and it was no easy task picking our way along the
sloping drifts of the ice-foot. But we were at last successful, and
reached our lookout station (hereafter to be known as Sunrise Point)
with half an hour to spare.
The day was far from a pleasant one for a holiday excursion. The
temperature was very low, and the wind, blowing quite freshly, brought
the drifting snow down from the mountains, and rattled it about us
rather sharply. But we were amply repaid by the view which was spread
out before us.
An open sea lay at our feet and stretched far away to the front and
right of us as we faced the south. Numerous bergs were dotted over
it, but otherwise it was mainly free from ice. Its surface was much
agitated by the winds, which kept it from freezing, and the waves were
dancing in the cold air as if in very mockery of the winter. It was
indeed a vast bubbling caldron,--seething, and foaming, and emitting
vapors. The light curling streams of "frost smoke" which rose over it
sailed away on the wind toward the southwest, and there mingled with
a dark mist-bank. Little streams of young ice, as if struggling to
bind the waves, rattled and crackled over the restless waters. To the
left, the lofty coast mountains stood boldly up in the bright air,
and near Cape Alexander the glacier peeped from between them, coming
down the valley with a gentle slope from the broad _mer de glace_. The
bold front of Crystal Palace Cliffs cut sharply against this line of
whiteness, and the dark, gloomy walls of Cape Alexander rose squarely
from the sea. Upon the crests of the silent hills, and over the
white-capped cape, light clouds lazily floated, and through these the
sun was pouring a stream of golden fire, and the whole southern heavens
were ablaze with the splendor of the coming day.
The point of Cape Alexander lay directly south of us, and the sun would
appear from behind it at exactly the meridian hour,--rolling along the
horizon, with only half its disk above the line of waters. We awaited
the approaching moment with much eagerness. Presently a ray of light
burst through the soft mist-clouds which lay off to the right of us
opposite the cape, blending them into a purple sea and glistening upon
the silvery summits of the tall icebergs, which pierced the vapory
cloak as if to catch the coming warmth. The ray approached us nearer
and nearer, the purple sea widened, the glittering spires multiplied,
as one after another they burst in quick succession into the blaze of
day; and as this marvelous change came over the face of the sea, we
felt that the shadow of the cape was the shadow of the night, and that
the night was passing away. Soon the dark-red cliffs behind us glowed
with a warm coloring, the hills and the mountains stood forth in their
new robes of resplendent brightness, and the tumbling waves melted away
from their angry harshness, and laughed in the sunshine. And now the
line of the shadow was in sight. "There it is upon the point," cried
Jensen. "There it is upon the ice-foot," answered Dodge,--there at our
feet lay a sheet of sparkling gems, and the sun burst broadly in our
faces. Off went our caps with a simultaneous impulse, and we hailed
this long-lost wanderer of the heavens with loud demonstrations of joy.
And now we were bathing in the atmosphere of other days. The friend
of all hopeful associations had come back again to put a new glow
into our hearts. He had returned after an absence of one hundred and
twenty-six days to revive a slumbering world; and as I looked upon
his face again, after this long interval, I did not wonder that there
should be men to bow the knee and worship him and proclaim him "The
eye of God." The parent of light and life everywhere, he is the same
within these solitudes. The germ awaits him here as in the Orient; but
there it rests only through the short hours of a summer night, while
here it reposes for months under a sheet of snows. But after a while
the bright sun will tear this sheet asunder, and will tumble it in
gushing fountains to the sea, and will kiss the cold earth, and give
it warmth and life; and the flowers will bud and bloom, and will turn
their tiny faces smilingly and gratefully up to him, as he wanders over
these ancient hills in the long summer. The very glaciers will weep
tears of joy at his coming. The ice will loose its iron grip upon the
waters, and will let the wild waves play in freedom. The reindeer will
skip gleefully over the mountains to welcome his coming, and will look
longingly to him for the green pastures. The sea-fowls, knowing that
he will give them a resting-place for their feet on the rocky islands,
will come to seek the moss-beds which he spreads for their nests; and
the sparrows will come on his life-giving rays, and will sing their
love songs through the endless day.