[Illustration: THE EDGE OF A PACK.]
Barren as are the arctic lands, the arctic ocean far exceeds them in
desolation. In the winter it is in many parts frozen solidly over to a
depth of nine feet, forming a level plain stretching as far as the eye
can reach. But this is generally the case only in land-locked bays, or
in places where surrounding hills give shelter from the furious gales
that sweep over the dreary waters. More often the open sea is one mass
of enormous cakes, tossing and grinding against one another in the
wildest way. The huge ice floes, driven by the wind or by currents,
strike against one another with fearful force, hurling great masses
high in the air. Woe to the unfortunate ship that is caught in such a
rough embrace. Her oaken timbers are crushed like egg shells. It has
happened that a ship thus caught, has been lifted bodily, by the ice
coming slowly together, out of the water and laid neatly upon it, and
the sailors have been forced to saw the ice about her, so as to launch
her again from this sudden and unexpected dry dock.
[Illustration: LIFTED BY THE ICE.]
[Illustration: AMONG THE ICEBERGS.]
Through all this grinding tossing mass come majestically floating
southward huge icebergs, passing through all this strife, and heeding
it as little as some cliff the waves that dash and roar about its base
and cover it with spray. Sometimes these mighty masses are no pleasant
neighbors, for as they float southward under the ever increasing heat
of the sun, during the months of July and August large cataracts
pour from them, and the whole mass becomes rotten and suddenly goes
to pieces in huge fragments each as large as a ship, which would
inevitably destroy anything with which they came into contact. Dr.
Hayes’ vessel, the United States, had a narrow escape from destruction
in this way. For four days they had been sailing through seas where
the bergs seemed to be countless, some a mile in length and towering
high in air, others no larger than the ship itself. In a calm, the
vessel had drifted close to one which looked particularly dangerous,
and before a rope could be made fast to another berg and the ship be
hauled from its unsafe position, it had struck. Though the collision
was a slight one, such masses of ice came rattling down upon the deck
as to render anything but pleasant the position of the men stationed
there. Suddenly a huge mass of the submerged part broke off and
came to the surface, lashing it to foam. Then a succession of loud
reports was heard, and vast masses broke off the opposite side of the
berg, causing it to reel to and fro, and sending showers of ice on
the vessel’s deck. By this time the crew sent out to make fast a rope
to another berg gave the signal to haul, and never did men pull more
lustily; and with good reason, for they had barely got clear when with
a loud report the whole top broke loose, and fell exactly where the
vessel had lain a few minutes before, causing a swell on which the
ship tossed to and fro as if in a gale. Soon after a huge berg in the
distance began to go to pieces. “First a lofty tower came plunging
into the water, starting from their inhospitable perch an immense flock
of gulls that went screaming into the air; over went another; then
a whole side settled squarely down; then the wreck capsized, and at
length after five hours of rolling and crashing, there remained of this
splendid mass, not a fragment that rose fifty feet above the water.
Another, which appeared to be a mile in length and upwards of a hundred
feet in height, split in two with a quick, sharp, and at length long
rumbling report, which could hardly have been exceeded by a thousand
pieces of artillery simultaneously discharged.” Lofty as are these
icebergs, the part above water gives no true idea of their vast size.
It has been computed that of fresh water ice floating in salt water,
only one-seventh is visible above the sea. In 1860, a huge iceberg
lay off the little harbor of Tessuissak on the Greenland coast. It
had grounded there two years before, and had not moved since. It was
three-quarters of a mile in length and towered by actual measurement,
three hundred and fifteen feet in the air, so that it must have come to
anchor in water half a mile in depth.
[Illustration: ENCOUNTER WITH ICEBERGS.]
[Illustration: AN ARCTIC SCENE.]
Whence come these mighty masses? They are discharged from the frozen
rivers of the North, the great glaciers that line the west coast of
Greenland and the shores of Iceland. The constant snows of the arctic
regions falling on the mountains and drifting into the valleys,
solidify into mighty glaciers which, pent in by the rocky hills, come
sweeping through the winding valleys to the sea. Great as are the
glaciers of the Alps, they are but pigmies compared with those of
Greenland. The Tyndall glacier where it discharges into the sea is two
miles in width;--but grand above all is the great Humboldt glacier,
whose lofty face reaches three hundred feet above the sea level and
beneath it to an unknown depth, while it is over sixty miles in width.
Slowly but steadily this whole mass is pushed forward. The angle at
which it descends from the hills soon forces under the water a greater
part of the ice than would be submerged were it floating unattached,
and the natural buoyancy of the ice causes it to break loose with a
thundering report. Splashing and plunging, it finally rights itself and
goes majestically sailing on borne by the currents, till melted by the
warmer waters of the Atlantic it finally disappears entirely.
The amount of snow that falls upon the arctic lands is unknown. It
is no doubt very great. In the Swiss Alps in a single night it has
fallen to the depth of six and a half feet. At the Hospice of Grimsel,
Agassiz noted in six months a fall of fifty-seven and a half feet. If
we suppose that no more than this falls on the mountains of Greenland,
we should have an annual deposit of one hundred and fifteen feet. Now
every cubic yard of snow weighs one hundred and eighty-seven pounds,
so that the lower strata would have upon it a pressure of over three
tons, a weight sufficient to change the snow at once to solid ice. This
change into ice by pressure can be noticed on a small scale by any one
who walks abroad after a slight fall of snow. On ceasing to walk, the
bottom of the boot will be found to be covered with a thin layer of ice.
[Illustration: A GREENLAND GLACIER.]
In this way the great arctic glaciers are formed, and take up their
slow and solemn march to the sea. At what rate they advance is not
known, but their movement like that of a river is much more rapid in
the centre of the mass than at the sides, where contact with the earth
retards its onward movements. In the Alps, where the nature and actions
of great frozen streams have been studied with care, the movements of
the different glaciers are found to be unlike. Some reach a speed of
five hundred feet a year, but a great proportion of this is made during
the summer heat. Since the summer in the arctic regions is so very
short, it is fair to infer that the arctic glaciers move more slowly
than this.
The speed of the Glacier des Bossons was exactly measured in a strange
manner. In 1820 three guides fell into a chasm in the ice at the foot
of Mt. Blanc and disappeared. In the years 1861, 1863 and 1865, the
glacier delivered up their remains at its termination, three and
a quarter miles from where they perished. In 1860 a glacier of the
Austrian Alps which is of very slow motion laid bare the frozen body of
a mountaineer, clad in an ancient dress which had not been worn by the
peasantry for centuries.
[Illustration: ARCTIC NAVIGATION.]
In spite of all these dreary wastes of ice, the arctic ocean is by
no means devoid of life. The waters of the polar seas are renowned
for their clearness. Off the Greenland coast the bottom can plainly
be seen at a depth of five hundred feet, and the tangled masses of
seaweed which grow upon it. Through these clear waves can be seen many
varieties of sea life. The surface currents of the Gulf Stream bring
hither tiny molluscs in such quantities that at times the waters are
colored by them. In and out among them swim schools of the Greenland
whale, swallowing them as they swim by the hundred thousand.
It is no quiet haven of rest for the whale. His great enemy, man, knows
only too well his favorite resort, and here every year braving the
dangers of ice and cold come fleets of whaling ships seeking the almost
certain return of their hardy labors, even though it may involve, as it
generally does, a winter of enforced idleness in some ice-bound bay.
Smaller members of the whale family abound, too, in vast numbers.
Sometimes venturing too near the shores of inhabited islands, they are
intercepted in their attempts to escape to the open sea by the natives,
who surrounding them in canoes, drive them with blows of the oar and
with stones toward the shore, where they are stranded and die in vast
numbers. On the Faroe Islands, in this way on one occasion, eight
hundred were captured, a fortune which does not often happen, but is
peculiarly happy since it renders certain a winter of plenty.
[Illustration: SEAL-HUNTING ON THE ICE-FIELDS.]
The Esquimaux who inhabit the northern limits of North America are
perhaps the most daring hunters of the whale, though from their limited
resources and poor weapons they do not carry before them the same
destruction that do the well organized and disciplined crews of whaling
ships. Approaching carefully in their frail canoes their victim, they
drive into him the barbed end of a long shaft to the other end of
which is attached an inflated bag of seal skin. Carefully avoiding the
wrath of the great monster, they attack him again and again, until
conquered at last he is towed ashore amid the rejoicings of the tribe
who assemble for the feast. No time is lost in preparing for the
banquet. The Esquimaux indulge in no such luxury as cooking, but all
stand about devouring with rapture the strips of raw blubber which they
have cut from the quivering side of their booty. In the capture of the
seal, too, the Esquimaux show great cunning. At times they hunt them on
the ice where they love to lie basking in the sun, creeping cautiously
along till they come near enough to strike them with a harpoon. Great
care has to be used that they do not take alarm. Sometimes the hunter
pushes before him on a sledge a white screen, behind which he hides
himself until ready to strike. The middle of summer is the best time
for this, for then the seal is afflicted with snow blindness so as not
to know of his approach. Another mode of capture, is to let down into
the water a net with coarse meshes which is kept down by heavy stones
fastened to its lower edge. Into these meshes the seal blunders when
swimming, and being unable to get to the surface to breathe is soon
drowned. In winter a still different method is in use. Travelling over
the frozen sea the hunter hears a seal gnawing the ice from below,
to make a breathing hole. His plan is instantly formed. He stands
motionless with uplifted lance, and no sooner does the unfortunate
animal nearly work his way through, than the iron barb descends
through the thin ice and pierces his skull. So quiet must the hunter
be, that to prevent any involuntary motion of his body it is sometimes
his habit to tie his knees together with a thong.
[Illustration: WALRUS.]
The hunting of the walrus is carried on in very much the same way as
that of the seal. Sometimes the animal has climbed the side of an
iceberg to bask in the sun, and when he tries to return to the water
finds the hole through which he made his exit frozen over. The wary
Esquimau guided by his dogs is soon upon him. In stormy weather, this
hunting on the ice is very dangerous. A sudden gale breaks up the solid
field, and the unfortunate hunter is carried to sea at the mercy of
the waves. Dr. Kane tells of the adventures of two Esquimaux, Awaklok
and Myouk, who were hunting with their dogs when a storm burst upon
them. Instantly the whole sea was one tumultuous mass of cakes of ice
grinding and tossing one against another. Realizing that near the shore
the danger would be greatest, they made with their dogs and a walrus
which they had just killed, for an iceberg upon which they managed
after great exertions to find a resting place, though they were obliged
to tie their dogs to projections of ice to avoid their being blown away
by the gale. One whole month they floated on this iceberg living on
the meat of the walrus, when their huge ship grounded, and the weather
being calm, ice formed sufficiently strong for them to escape to the
shore.
[Illustration: THE WALRUS.]
The walrus does not interfere with man unless attacked, when his long
tusks make him a very formidable opponent. Dr. Hayes tells of an
encounter which shows how resolute an enemy they become. A party in a
boat had just harpooned a large animal, one of a herd, whereupon all
took to flight, but “in a few minutes the whole herd appeared at the
surface about fifty yards away, the harpooned animal being among them.
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
cry for help; and then the air was filled with answering shrieks. The
’huk huk huk’ of the wounded bull 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 a squadron along a line of battle, and down from
every piece of ice plunged the startled beasts. With their ugly heads
just above water, and with mouths wide open, belching forth the dismal
’huk huk huk’ they came tearing toward the boat. That they meditated
an attack, there could be no doubt. To escape the onslaught was
impossible. We had raised a hornet’s nest about our ears 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 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 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 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 water 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 the shore, their heads now all
pointing seaward making from us as fast as they could go, their cries
growing more and more faint, as they retreated in the distance.”
[Illustration: POLAR BEARS.]
[Illustration: AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE.]
It is hard to know whether to class the Polar bear among land animals
or sea animals. He is a capital swimmer, and can make headway in the
waves at the rate of three miles an hour. Dr. Hayes found one swimming
in the open ocean, completely beyond sight of land or ice; evidently he
had been carried to sea on some floe which had crumbled beneath him.
The Esquimaux hunt them with dogs which are trained to attract their
attention in front, till the hunter can plunge his lance into their
side. A skilful man can thus often kill a bear at a single blow, but
it is no rare thing for him to have to leave his lance sticking in the
animal’s side to take refuge in flight. A very ingenious way, which
is sometimes tried, is to take a very stiff piece of whalebone, some
two inches wide and four feet long. This is with much labor coiled
into a narrow space and then covered with blubber, which being frozen
holds the whalebone in its place. Approaching a bear they hurl a spear
at him, and when he turns to pursue they drop the frozen mass before
him, which he speedily swallows. The heat of the body soon dissolves
the blubber, and the whalebone being set free springs back with great
violence, tearing the stomach in such a way as to cause speedy death.
The bear is very fond of seal, and is almost as expert a hunter of
them as the Esquimaux. Captain McClintock tells of the adventure of
an Esquimau with one of these bears. He was kneeling on the ice and
had just drawn up his net in which a seal was caught, when he felt a
blow upon the shoulder. Fancying that it was his companion he paid
no attention to it, but a heavier blow caused him to turn, when he
found beside him an enormous bear, who tearing the seal from the net
deliberately proceeded to eat it. Our friend did not dispute his right,
but lost no time in seeking more comfortable quarters.