I have--as seaman, mate, and skipper--in forty years seen some curious
sights, you may be sure, although all my voyages have been to the
north, ay, and pretty far north too, some of them; for we whalers have
to go wherever the fish are to be found, and if we cannot find them
near home, why, we have just got to go north and search till we do fall
in with them.
You want to know the most wonderful thing I ever came across in my
long life of hardship and adventure in the Arctic Seas? Well, there is
nothing that I know of to equal the finding of Doctor Angus Sinclair
in 1862. But as you want it spun properly I’ll give you the yarn from
beginning to end, and then you’ll see for yourself what a curious
adventure it was.
In 1862 I was mate of the _White Swan_ whaler, sailing from the port
of Dundee, and as we had made a very poor fishing during the previous
season in the Greenland Sea, our skipper made up his mind to try fresh
ground, and to steer north-eastward to the Spitzbergen Islands, as he
knew of some likely ground to the eastward of those islands.
The most eastern of the Spitzbergen Isles is one called Wyches,
or King Charles’s Island, and our skipper made straight for this
island, intending to build a hut there, and make it a kind of winter
habitation, should we be obliged to go into winter quarters before
getting a full cargo. Our owner had instructed the skipper to take
what oil he could get of the right sort, but, if he could not obtain a
full cargo, to wait till he could fill up with something else--by this
meaning seal-pelts, seal-oil, bear’s robes, walrus’ tusks or skin, or
anything else worth the freight.
Having all our outfit aboard we left Dundee, touched at Tromso, and in
a fortnight arrived safely at Wyches Island, where we stayed about a
week to build a large and comfortable hut, with timber brought with us
from Dundee. Holes were dug into the everlastingly frozen ground, and
posts erected, upon the outsides of which inch boards were nailed, and
afterwards upon the inside also. This formed a double skin, leaving
a space of some six inches between, which was filled with sawdust
tightly rammed down. The roof was made in the same way, and when it was
finished the whole of the interior was lined with thick felt.
There were four double-glazed windows facing the cardinal points, and
only one door facing south-west. This door was well draped in thick
blanketing to keep out the cold blasts of air. Bunks were ranged round
the walls, and a large stove for cooking and heating purposes stood
in the centre of the floor. Round the stove, forming three sides of a
square, stood deal tables, for dining and other purposes. Such was our
“Swan’s Nest,” as we christened it, and we afterwards found it very
cosy.
Between Spitzbergen and Franz Joseph Land we cruised during the summer
and autumn with fair success, but when the time came that we should for
safety be sailing southward and homeward, we found that our cargo was
not nearly a full one. Seeing this, the skipper had a grand “palaver”
on deck, in which he did nearly all the talking, and informed the crew
that he had decided to winter in White Swan Inlet; and finding that
one or two of the crew were for going home and returning in the early
spring, he gave them leave to do so, but also pointed out that if they
were mammy sick, and wished to go home, they would have to _walk_ there!
Our crew numbered forty hands all told, and a fine, jolly lot of
fellows they were, living very harmoniously together, splitting up
naturally into parties for fishing and shooting expeditions, when
the weather would allow of it. Some of these excursions were for the
benefit of our owner, as the skipper and I each headed parties to hunt
bears, and to knock over a few seals now and again. At other times the
parties were for the purpose of replenishing the larder, as we learnt
to snare white foxes, geese, and other things of a furry or feathered
nature; whatever we obtained went into the huge cauldron which always
stood on the stove, _à la_ the French _pot au feu_. By the way, our
stove was as carefully watched as any sacred lamp in a continental
cathedral, for it was never allowed to show even a symptom of going
out, either by night or day.
Sometimes we would organize little exploring parties on our own account
(having first obtained the skipper’s sanction), and wandered away for
miles among the hills of the frozen island, thus leaving more space for
those who remained at home to play their indoor games. Could any of
our friends have looked into the “Swan’s Nest,” they might easily have
mistaken it for a boys’ school, or even a play-ground. Let me just give
you an idea of what the inmates did to pass their time away, from notes
of the scene jotted in my pocket-book on one occasion.
Two men were cooking for the general mess. The armourer was cleaning
or repairing guns, knives, etc., for some projected expedition, while
round the fire sat a noisy group telling yarns and smoking. Near them
sat a party of four playing some game of cards; a desperate game
apparently, for they looked very solemn and absorbed. The boys were
enjoying a game of leap-frog at one end of the room, while several of
the bunks were occupied by men, some of whom were asleep, a couple on
the sick list, and others reading. There was a man, the cobbler of the
crew, mending boots, while at his side sat Snip, sewing away at the
seat of a pair of duffel trousers, what he calls armour-plating them;
and along the north side was a skittle alley, at which a knot of tars
are very much enjoying themselves, if we might judge by the shouts of
merriment and hearty smacks upon the back with which they salute each
other.
Hands behind his back by the stove, with his legs thrust apart like
a pair of compasses, stood the skipper, sipping a glass of something
steaming hot, while your humble servant had just finished posting up
the ship’s journal; for the skipper was a poor hand with the pen, his
fingers being all thumbs, and his thumbs like stun’sail booms.
Well, now that I have shown you how we amused ourselves, I will proceed
with my yarn.
Ever since I was quite a nipper I have had a fondness for exploring and
roaming about whenever I could get off duty, and this propensity did
not desert me amid the snow and ice of the Arctic regions, as you shall
hear.
I begged the skipper to allow me to make a tour of the island on which
we were living; a tour having for its object the making of an accurate
map; one, at any rate, more accurate than that at the time laid down in
the charts.
He met me with a flat and decided “No!”
“Why, man, are you mad? The island we are on is as large as the
principality of Wales, and to compass it you would have to travel at
least four hundred miles, which would probably mean an absence of nine
or ten weeks! No, my man, this is not _quite_ a lunatic asylum; not
yet, at all events.”
It was no use pleading, but his refusal set my back up, as the men
twitted me (not to my face, but indirectly), with wanting to be a
circumnavigator of the world on my own account.
Two of them would waddle round the tables, and, when they met, pretend
they had not seen each other for years, and shake hands and embrace
in a most enthusiastic manner, to the delight of the crew and my own
chagrin.
One day, the weather being clear, the skipper brought out his big
telescope, and was very busy with it, taking long surveys at a distant
island lying due south of the Inlet. He requested me to get the charts
of the Spitzbergen group down, which I did.
“Now look here,” said he, addressing me; “that island to the south’ard
is laid down in the chart as a mere rock, and only indicated by a big
dot and the words ‘rocks of some extent.’ Now, by my glass, it looks
a tidy big island, at least six or eight miles from east to west, and
goodness knows how long from north to south. I can see parts of it
which must rise to a height of several hundred feet, and probably the
whole island would take some three or four days to travel round on the
rough ice. Now what do you say to take two or three hands and go and
explore it?”
“What do I say?--why jump at it with pleasure, of course; but give me a
couple of days to get ready, and allow me to pick my crew.”
This was assented to, and in the three days allotted I rigged up one of
the small boats on runners, loaded it with felt sleeping-bags, a tent,
small stove, guns, provisions, a lamp, and many other things that might
be required.
On the third day I started off with four men, who were as eager for
the expedition as myself, being only too glad to undertake anything
for a change from the monotonous hut life. We were granted six days
to be away; if we had not returned by the end of that time a search
party would be sent out to seek us. We were instructed to plant a rod
with a piece of red bunting at our various halting-places, so that if
necessary our steps might easily be followed.
As we started off the whole ship’s company came out to bid us farewell,
and it made our hearts bound with joy and pride, when we heard their
voices, with loud “hurrahs,” make the surrounding icy peaks of these
Arctic solitudes echo again.
We had ten miles to scramble over the excessively rough ice which lay
between our winter quarters and the island. Six or eight of our mates
came half-way with us, to give us a hand in dragging our sledge-boat.
It was terrible hard work, and the first five miles took us six hours
to accomplish, as the ice was in some places piled in hummocks twenty
and even thirty feet high; round these we had to make a _détour_, so
that our course was very meandering and uncertain.
We made a halt and refreshed, each of us having a cup of hot coffee to
drink with the meal we had brought with us. We could see the “Swan’s
Nest” built on the side of a hill facing south-west, and, not a couple
of hundred yards away, was our vessel, the _White Swan_, frozen solidly
into the ice. Her topmasts and heavy gear had been sent down and stowed
on deck, which from stem to stern was covered in with a span roof of
timber; so that she looked something like a long black shed, with three
tall chimneys thrust through the roof.
After half-an-hour’s halt our comrades left us and returned to the
“Swan’s Nest,” hoping to see us again in six days at furthest.
After a long and rough scramble we at length reached the island,
and selecting a nook between two rocky cliffs, erected our tent and
prepared everything to pass the night there. The rocks on three sides
kept the wind off famously, what little there was, and to give some
protection from any bears who might be prowling about, we drew the
sledge across the narrow entrance to our nook; the stove we rigged up
at the mouth of the tent. We cooked a kind of stew, had a pannikin of
hot coffee each, and then, drawing sleeping-bags over our legs up to
our waists, sat and played cards by lantern light till we were ready
for slumber, when we drew the bags completely over our heads and slept
soundly till it was time to be up and stirring.
So far everything had been quiet and comfortable, but while we were
consuming our breakfast, one of the men named Adams went to the boat
for some more ship’s bread, and was in the act of taking it from the
bag in which it was kept when a huge white bear put his nose over
the side of the boat and opened its mouth, just as you see them in
menageries when a biscuit is about to be tossed to them. He appeared to
say,
“Don’t forget me, mate.”
Adams, far from being frightened, stooped and picked up an axe from
the floor of the boat, and swinging it aloft brought it down so as to
strike the animal fairly on the head, and had he succeeded he would
probably have killed it instantaneously, as he was a powerful man.
The bear was too quick for him, however, and dodged the intended blow,
so that the axe, instead of being buried in the furry one’s skull,
found a billet in the side of the boat, where it was wedged so tightly
by the force of the blow, that Adams could not withdraw it. He turned
round to jump out and run to us, but the bear, rising on its hind legs,
caught him a blow in the ribs which sent him with a crash into the
bottom of the boat.
The bear still stood on its hind legs, roaring and looking very
wicked--offering a capital mark for our rifles, three of which were
aimed at the monster at the same time. Two almost simultaneous reports
rang out, and the monster fell: my piece failed to go off--a bad cap I
found afterwards, for breechloaders were not then in general use. We
made a rush upon our fallen foe to give him the _coup de grâce_, but
the terrible fellow was quite dead, from a shot through the eye, which
had doubtless penetrated the brain. Two of his claws had been carried
away by the other bullet, which came very near missing altogether.
Adams lay in the bottom of the boat perfectly conscious, and looking at
us, but giving occasional groans.
“Are you hurt?” we asked.
“Hurt, mates? I’m afraid to move, for fear my whole starboard side is
stove in. Give us a hand, one of you; steady--gently now.”
He rose with difficulty, and we carried him to the tent and examined
his side. No bones were broken, but from the armpit to the waist was a
terrible bruise upon which we rubbed a good coat of the bear’s fat, on
the principle that like cures like.
Fearing that he would be an incumbrance to us, he determined to
start back to the “Swan’s Nest” alone, as he could not pull on the
sledge-ropes; so shouldering his rifle the plucky fellow returned
across the icy wilderness, and reached our quarters safely (as we
afterwards found), tired and sore in every limb, after a tramp and
clamber of twelve hours.
We skinned the bear, rolling up the robe and placing it in the boat,
and then commenced our tour of the island.
We had made the island on the north shore, and gradually worked round
along the east coast, till we arrived at the south, where we discovered
a nearly land-locked harbour of considerable extent, which we entered,
finding it covered with quite smooth ice, smooth enough, in fact,
for skating, which is a somewhat rare occurrence in these regions.
The Ancient Mariner had “water, water everywhere, but not a drop to
drink,” while in the far north we have ice and snow everywhere, but
not a place to skate. The harbour was surrounded by steep cliffs of
great height and snow-clad, but still a cosy-looking place for winter
quarters for a whaler.
As we looked around these wall-like cliffs, we were startled by the
sight of what appeared to be a solid-looking hut, built in a hollow,
over which the great brown cliffs lowered as if they would fall and
crush it. A steep, pathless, snowy slope led up to this strange
dwelling, which no sooner caught sight of than, like a lot of boys just
let out of school, we, with one accord, dropped our sledge-tugs and
bounded up the craggy acclivity to see what it contained.
Sure enough it _was_ a hut, and of fair size too, built with its rear
supported by the rocky cliffs, which had been hollowed out to receive
it. Two windows, heavily barred, looked out over the frozen sea below,
and between them was the heavy door, from a hole in which depended a
thin metal chain. I seized the chain and gave it a pull, which raised a
bar of wood within, causing the door to swing open of its own accord.
We looked within, but the interior was so dark that little was
visible, even with the door open; but we could see a piece of blanket
or battered sail stretched from side to side of the cabin, so as to
divide it into two apartments, and we could also discern a rough,
ancient-looking chair, and several large articles. I stepped in and
drew the curtain aside; I say _drew_ it aside, but it really fell apart
in my hand as I endeavoured to do so. Anyhow, enough of it was removed
for me to see a most gruesome sight; for there, in the dim light, I
could dimly discern the figure of a dead man, sitting by a table or
bench, and, as may be supposed, the sight made me recoil against my
comrades, whom I so imbued with my fright, that we all rushed out of
the hut together.
Telling them what I had seen, I sent one of them to the boat for the
lantern, so that we could obtain a light, and enter again into the
inner apartment of the hut.
The lantern being brought, we crowded in quietly together, I being
foremost with the light, and there, sure enough, sat a man at the
table in such an attitude that, had we not known he must be dead, we
should have thought he was simply asleep. He looked about sixty years
of age, and possessed very fine intellectual features; but on closer
examination we were surprised to find that his beard, instead of being
an ordinary one of, say, a few inches long, or even an extraordinary
one of a growth reaching to the waist, was of such an abnormal length
that it not only reached the floor, but lay there in a huge tangled
mass; nor was his hair a whit behind, as it fell in tresses over the
back of the chair, and was actually frozen to the floor all around him.
His eyebrows, too, hung down over his eyelids touching his cheeks,
and as for his finger-nails!--well, they were as long and pointed as
“the quills upon the back of the fretful porcupine.” His toe-nails had
pierced his shoes, and extended beyond his toes a foot or more.
We gazed in silence, being struck speechless with amazement at the
marvellous sight, and for some time our eyes were so riveted on the
strange object before us, that we forgot each other’s presence.
My voice first broke the silence, but as I spoke my words seemed a
kind of sacrilege to the presence and awful silence and solemnity of
the dead man before us.
“Well, mates, what do you make of this?” I asked.