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,"--
and the pulseless heart was made to throb again, and the bloom returned
to the pallid cheek.
[Sidenote: 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;"
and the long night which the glad day has succeeded is remembered as a
strange dream.
June 23d.
[Sidenote: 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, the _tripe 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]
[Footnote 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._ 28. _Saxifraga cornua._
2. _Papaver nudicaule._ 29. _Saxifraga nivalis._
3. _Hesperis Pallasii._ 30. _Leontodon palustre._
4. _Draba Alpina._ 31. _Campanula linifolia._
5. _Draba corymbosa._ 32. _Vaccinium uliginosum._
6. _Draba hirta._ 33. _Andromeda tetragona._
7. _Draba glacialas._ 34. _Pyrola chlorantha._
8. _Draba rupestris._ 35. _Bartsia Alpina._
9. _Cochlearia officinalis._ 36. _Pedicularis Kanei._
10. _Vesicaria Arctica._ 37. _Armeria Labradorica._
11. _Arenaria Arctica._ 38. _Polygonum viviparum._
12. _Stellaria humifusa._ 39. _Oxyria didyma._
13. _Stellaria Stricta._ 40. _Empetrum nigrum._
14. _Cerastium Alpinum._ 41. _Betula nana._
15. _Silene acaulis._ 42. _Salix Arctica._
16. _Lychnis apetala._ 43. _Salix herbacea._
17. _Lychnis panciflora._ 44. _Luzula_ (too young).
18. _Dryas integrifolia._ 45. _Carex rigida._
19. _Dryas octopetala._ 46. _Eriophorum vaginatum._
20. _Potentilla pulchella._ 47. _Alopecurus Alpinus._
21. _Potentilla nivalis._ 48. _Glyceria Arctica._
22. _Alchemilla vulgaris._ 49. _Poa Arctica._
23. _Saxifraga oppositifolia._ 50. _Poa Alpina._
24. _Saxifraga flagellaris._ 51. _Hierocloa Alpina._
25. _Saxifraga cæspitosa._ 52. _Festuca ovina._
26. _Saxifraga rivularis._ 53. _Lycopodium annotinum._
27. _Saxifraga tricuspidata._
]
June 25th.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
the cliffs 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, or wreaking their fury on the ice of the harbor, into which
their Titan touch opened many a gaping wound.
June 28th.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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 at Port 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 rise above 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.
[Sidenote: 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
expose some 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 appeared to 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 to get 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 was to 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.
[Illustration: 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. The discharge 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 the
_coup de grace_ with 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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 a yellow-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 genus _Insecta_ for 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.