SPITZBERGEN--BEAR ISLAND--JAN MEYEN.
The west Coast of Spitzbergen.--Ascension of a Mountain by Dr.
Scoresby.--His Excursion along the Coast.--A stranded Whale.--
Magdalena Bay.--Multitudes of Sea-birds.--Animal Life.--Midnight
Silence.--Glaciers.--A dangerous Neighborhood.--Interior
Plateau.--Flora of Spitzbergen.--Its Similarity with that of
the Alps above the Snow-line.--Reindeer.--The hyperborean
Ptarmigan.--Fishes.--Coal.--Drift-wood.--Discovery of
Spitzbergen by Barentz, Heemskerk, and Ryp.--Brilliant Period of
the Whale-fishery.--Coffins.--Eight English Sailors winter in
Spitzbergen, 1630.--Melancholy Death of some Dutch Volunteers.--
Russian Hunters.--Their Mode of wintering in Spitzbergen.--
Scharostin.--Walrus-ships from Hammerfest and Tromsö.--Bear
or Cherie Island.--Bennet.--Enormous Slaughter of Walruses.--
Mildness of its Climate.--Mount Misery.--Adventurous Boat-voyage
of some Norwegian Sailors.--Jan Meyen.--Beerenberg.
The archipelago of Spitzbergen consists of five large islands: West
Spitzbergen, North-east Land, Stans Foreland, Barentz Land, Prince
Charles Foreland; and of a vast number of smaller ones, scattered
around their coasts. Its surface is about equal to that of two-thirds
of Scotland; its most southern point (76° 30´ N. lat.) lies nearer
to the Pole than Melville Island; and Ross Islet, at its northern
extremity (80° 49´ N. lat.), looks out upon the unknown ocean, which
perhaps extends without interruption as far as the Straits of Bering.
Of all the Arctic countries that have hitherto been discovered,
Grinnell Land and Washington alone lie nearer to the Pole; but
while these ice-blocked regions can only be reached with the utmost
difficulty, the western and north-western coasts of Spitzbergen,
exposed to the mild south-westerly winds, and to the influence of the
Gulf Stream, are frequently visited, not only by walrus-hunters and
Arctic explorers, but by amateur travellers and sportsmen.
The eastern coasts are far less accessible, and in parts have never
yet been accurately explored. As far as they are known, they are not
so bold and indented as the western and north-western coasts, which,
projecting in mighty capes or opening a passage to deep fjords, have
been gnawed into every variety of fantastic form by the corroding
power of an eternal winter, and justify, by their endless succession
of jagged spikes and break-neck acclivities, the name of Spitzbergen,
which its first Dutch discoverers gave to this land of “serrated peaks.”
The mountains on the west coast are very steep, many of them
inaccessible, and most of them dangerous to climb, either from the
smooth hard snow with which they are encrusted even in summer, or from
the looseness of the disintegrated stones which cover the parts denuded
by the sun, and give way under the slightest pressure of the foot.
More than one daring seaman has paid dearly for his temerity in
venturing to scale these treacherous heights. The supercargo, or owner,
of the very first Dutch whaler that visited Spitzbergen (1612) broke
his neck in attempting to climb a steep mountain in Prince Charles
Foreland, and Barentz very nearly lost several of his men under
similar circumstances. Dr. Scoresby, who in the course of his whaling
expeditions touched at Spitzbergen no less than seventeen times, was
more successful in scaling a mountain 3000 feet high, near Mitre Cape,
though the approach to the summit was by a ridge so narrow that he
could only advance by sitting astride upon its edge. But the panorama
which he beheld, after having attained his object, amply repaid him
for the danger and fatigue of clambering for several hours over loose
stones, which at every step rolled with fearful rapidity into the abyss
beneath.
“The prospect,” says the distinguished naturalist, “was most extensive
and grand. A fine sheltered bay was seen to the east of us; an arm
of the same on the north-east; and the sea, whose glassy surface
was unruffled by a breeze, formed an immense expanse on the west;
the icebergs, rearing their proud crests almost to the tops of the
mountains between which they were lodged, and defying the power of the
solar beams, were scattered in various directions about the sea-coast
and in the adjoining bays. Beds of snow and ice, filling extensive
hollows and giving an enamelled coat to adjoining valleys, one of
which, commencing at the foot of the mountain where we stood, extended
in a continued line towards the north as far as the eye could reach;
mountain rising above mountain, until by distance they dwindled into
insignificance; the whole contrasted by a cloudless canopy of deepest
azure, and enlightened by the rays of a blazing sun, and the effect
aided by a feeling of danger--seated, as we were, on the pinnacle of
a rock, almost surrounded by tremendous precipices; all united to
constitute a picture singularly sublime.
“Our descent we found really a very hazardous, and in some instances a
painful undertaking. Every movement was a work of deliberation. Having,
by much care and with some anxiety, made good our descent to the top of
the secondary hills, we took our way down one of the steepest banks,
and slid forward with great facility in a sitting posture. Towards
the foot of the hill an expanse of snow stretched across the line of
descent. This being loose and soft, we entered upon it without fear,
but on reaching the middle of it, we came to a surface of solid ice,
perhaps a hundred yards across, over which we launched with astonishing
velocity, but happily escaped without injury. The men, whom we left
below, viewed this latter movement with astonishment and fear.”
After this perilous descent, Scoresby continued his excursion on the
flat land next the sea, where he found scattered here and there many
skulls and other bones of sea-horses, whales, narwhals, foxes, and
seals. Two Russian lodges, formed of logs of pine, with a third in
ruins, were also seen; the former, from a quantity of fresh chips about
them and other appearances, gave evidence of having been recently
inhabited. These huts were built upon a ridge of shingle adjoining the
sea. Among the boulders heaped upon the shore, numerous sea-birds had
built their nests or laid their eggs, which they defended with loud
cries and determined courage against the attacks of gulls. The only
insect he perceived was a small green fly, but the water along the
coast was filled with medusæ and shrimps. The strong north-west winds
had covered the strand with large heaps of _Fucus vesiculosus_ and
_Laminaria saccharina_, the same which the storms also cast out upon
our shores.
The view of this high northern life was extremely interesting, but Dr.
Scoresby was still further rewarded by the discovery of a dead whale,
found stranded on the beach, which, though much swollen and not a
little putrid, proved a prize worth at least £400. By a harpoon found
in its body, it appeared to have been struck by some of the fishers on
the Elbe, and having escaped from them, it had probably stranded itself
on the spot where it was found. When the first incision was made, the
oil gushed forth like a fountain. It was a slow and laborious work to
transport the blubber to the ship, which on account of the dangerous
nature of the coast was obliged to remain two miles off at sea. After
five boat-loads had safely been brought on board, the wind suddenly
changed, so that the ship was driven far out to sea, and the boat
reached her with great difficulty.
Of the numerous fjords of Spitzbergen, once the busy resort of
whole fleets of whalers, and now but rarely visited by man, none
has been more accurately described by modern Arctic voyagers than
the magnificent harbor of Magdalena Bay. Here the Dorothea and the
Trent anchored in 1818, on their way to the North Pole; here also the
French naturalists, who had been sent out in the corvette La Recherche
(1835–36) to explore the high northern latitudes, sojourned for several
weeks.
The number of the sea-birds is truly astonishing. On the ledges of a
high rock at the head of the bay Beechey saw the little auks (_Arctica
alle_) extend in an uninterrupted line full three miles in length, and
so closely congregated that about thirty fell at a single shot. He
estimated their numbers at about 4,000,000. When they took flight they
darkened the air; and at the distance of four miles their chorus could
distinctly be heard.
[Illustration: 71. MAGDALENA BAY, SPITZBERGEN.]
On a fine summer’s day, the bellowing of the walruses and the hoarse
bark of the seals are mingled with the shrill notes of the auks,
divers, and gulls. Although all these tones produce a by no means
harmonious concert, yet they have a pleasing effect, as denoting the
happy feelings of so many creatures. When the sun verges to the pole,
every animal becomes mute, and a silence broken only by the bursting
of a glacier reigns over the whole bay--a remarkable contrast to the
tropical regions, where Nature enjoys her repose during the noonday
heat, and it is only after sunset that life awakens in the forest and
the field.
Four glaciers reach down this noble inlet: one, called the Wagon
Way, is 7000 feet across at its terminal cliff, which is 300 feet
high, presenting a magnificent wall of ice. But the whole scene is
constructed on so colossal a scale that it is only on a near approach
that the glaciers of Magdalena Bay appear in all their imposing
grandeur. In clear weather the joint effect of the ice under the water,
and the reflection of the glacier-wall above, causes a remarkable
optical delusion. The water assumes a milk-white color, the seals
appear to gambol in a thick cream-like liquid, and the error only
becomes apparent when, on leaning over the side of the boat, the
spectator looks down into the transparent depth below.
It is extremely dangerous to approach these cliffs of ice, as every now
and then large blocks detach themselves from the mass, and frequently
even a concussion of the air is enough to make them fall.
During the busy period of Spitzbergen history, when its bay used to
be frequented by whalers who anchored under the glacier-walls, these
ice-avalanches often had disastrous consequences. Thus, in the year
1619, an English ship was driven by a storm into Bell Sound. While it
was passing under a precipice of ice, a prodigious mass came thundering
down upon it, broke the masts, and threw the ship so violently upon one
side that the captain and part of the crew were swept into the sea. The
captain escaped unhurt, but two sailors were killed and several others
wounded.
One day a gun was fired from a boat of the Trent when about half a mile
from one of the glaciers of Magdalena Bay. Immediately after the report
of the musket, a noise resembling thunder was heard in the direction
of the ice-stream, and in a few seconds more an enormous mass detached
itself from its front, and fell into the sea. The men in the boat,
supposing themselves to be beyond the reach of its influence, were
tranquilly contemplating the magnificent sight, when suddenly a large
wave came sweeping over the bay, and cast their little shallop to a
distance of ninety-six feet upon the beach.
Another time, when Franklin and Beechey had approached one of these
ice-walls, a huge fragment suddenly slid from its side, and fell with
a crash into the sea. At first the detached mass entirely disappeared
under the waters, casting up clouds of spray, but soon after it shot
up again at least 100 feet above the surface, and then kept rocking
several minutes to and fro. When at length the tumult subsided, the
block was found to measure no less than 1500 feet in circumference; it
projected 60 feet above the water, and its weight was calculated at
more than 400,000 tons.
Besides the glaciers of Magdalena Bay, Spitzbergen has many others that
protrude their crystal walls down to the water’s edge; and yet but few
icebergs, and the largest not to be compared with the productions of
Baffin’s Bay, are drifted from the shores of Spitzbergen into the open
sea. The reason is that the glaciers usually terminate where the sea
is shallow, so that no very large mass if dislodged can float away, and
they are at the same time so frequently dismembered by heavy swells
that they can not attain any great size.
The interior of Spitzbergen has never been explored. According to the
Swedish naturalists,[8] who climbed many of the highest mountains in
various parts of the coast, all the central regions of the archipelago
form a level ice-plateau, interrupted only here and there by denuded
rocks, projecting like islands from the crystal sea in which they are
imbedded. The height of this plateau above the level of the ocean
is in general from 1500 to 2000 feet, and from its frozen solitudes
descend the various glaciers above described. During the summer months,
the radiation of the sun at Spitzbergen is always very intense, the
thermometer in some sheltered situations not seldom rising at noon
to 62°, 67°, or even 73°. Even at midnight, at the very peak of the
high mountain ascended by Scoresby, the power of the sun produced a
temperature several degrees above the freezing-point, and occasioned
the discharge of streams of water from the snow-capped summit.
Hence, though even in the three warmest months the temperature of
Spitzbergen does not average more that 34½°, yet in the more southern
aspects, and particularly where the warmth of the sun is absorbed and
radiated by black rock-walls, the mountains are not seldom bared at an
elevation nearly equal to that of the snow-line of Norway, and various
Alpine plants and grasses frequently flourish, not only in sheltered
situations at the foot of the hills, but even to a considerable height,
wherever the disintegrated rocks lodge and form a tolerably good soil.
The Flora of Spitzbergen consists of about ninety-three species of
flowering or phenogamous plants, which generally grow in isolated
tufts or patches; but the mosses which carpet the moist lowlands, and
the still more hardy lichens, which invest the rocks with their thin
crusts or scurfs as far as the last limits of vegetation, are much
more numerous. Some of the plants of Spitzbergen are also found on
the Alps beyond the snow-line, at elevations of from 9000 to 10,000
feet above the level of the sea. According to Mr. Martins, nothing can
give a better idea of Spitzbergen than the vast circus of _névé_, in
the centre of which rises the triangular rock known to the visitors
of Chamonny as the Jardin or the Courtil. Let the tourist, placed on
this spot at a time when the sun rises but little above the horizon, or
better still, when wreaths of mist hang over the neighboring mountains,
fancy the sea bathing the foot of the amphitheatre of which he
occupies the centre, and he has a complete Spitzbergen prospect before
him. Supposing him to be a botanist, the sight of the _Ranunculus
glacialis_, _Cerastium alpinum_, _Arenaria biflora_, and _Erigeron
uniflorus_ will still further increase the illusion.
The only esculent plant of Spitzbergen is the _Cochlearia fenestrata_,
which here loses its acrid principles, and can be eaten as a salad. The
grasses which Keilhau found growing near some Russian huts in Stans
Foreland are during the summer a precious resource for the reindeer,
which, though extremely shy, make their appearance from time to time
in every part of the land from the Seven Islands to South Cape, and
are more abundant than could have been expected. The Polar bears
are probably their only native enemies on these islands, and their
fleetness furnishes them with ample means of escape from a pursuer so
clumsy on land. Lord Mulgrave’s crew killed fifty deer on Vogelsang,
a noted hunting-place, and on Sir Edward Parry’s polar expedition
about seventy deer were shot in Treurenberg Bay by inexperienced
deer-stalkers, and without the aid of dogs. During the winter these
large herbivora live on the Icelandic moss which they scent under the
snow, but it may well be asked where they find shelter in a naked
wilderness without a single tree. In May and June they are so thin as
scarcely to be eatable, but in July they begin to get fat, and then
their flesh would everywhere be reckoned a delicacy.
Besides the reindeer, the only land-quadrupeds of Spitzbergen are the
Polar bear, the Arctic fox, and a small field-mouse, which in summer
has a mottled, and in winter a white fur.
Of the birds, the hyperborean ptarmigan (_Lagopus hyperborea_), which
easily procures its food under the snow, undoubtedly winters in
Spitzbergen, and probably also the lesser red-pole, which perhaps finds
grass seeds enough for its subsistence during the long polar nights,
while the snow-bunting (_Plectrophanes nivalis_), and the twenty
species of water-fowl and waders that frequent the shores of the high
northern archipelago during the summer, all migrate southward when the
long summer’s day verges to its end.
Until very lately the Spitzbergen waters were supposed to be poor in
fishes, though the numerous finbacks, which towards the end of summer
frequent the southern and south-western coasts, and, unlike the large
smooth-back whales, chiefly live on herrings, as well as the troops of
salmon-loving white dolphin seen about the estuaries of the rivers,
sufficiently proved the contrary, not to mention the herds of seals,
and the hosts of ichthyophagous sea-birds that breed on every rocky
ledge of the archipelago. Phipps and Scoresby mention only three or
four species of fishes occurring in the seas of Spitzbergen, while the
Swedish naturalist Malmgren, the first who seems to have paid real
attention to this interesting branch of zoology, collected no less than
twenty-three species in 1861 and 1864. The northern shark (_Scymnus
microcephalus_) is so abundant that of late its fishery has proved
highly remunerative. The first ship which was fitted out for this
purpose in 1863 by Hilbert Pettersen, of Tromsö, returned from Bell
and Ice Sounds with a full cargo of sharks’ livers, and in 1865 the
same enterprising merchant sent out no less than five shark-ships to
Spitzbergen. The cod, the common herring, the shell-fish, the halibut
have likewise been caught in the waters of the archipelago, and there
is every reason to believe that their fishery, which has hitherto been
entirely neglected, might be pursued with great success.
The mineral riches of Spitzbergen are, of course, but little known.
Coal of an excellent quality, which might easily be worked, as it
nearly crops out on the surface at a short distance from the sea,
has, however, been discovered lately by Mr. Blomstrand in King’s
Bay, and similar strata exist in various parts of Bell Sound and
Ice Sound. Large quantities of drift-wood, probably from the large
Siberian rivers, are deposited by the currents, particularly on the
north coasts of North-east Land, and on the southern coasts of Stans
Foreland. In English Bay Lord Dufferin saw innumerable logs of unhewn
timber, mingled with which lay pieces of broken spars, an oar, a boat’s
flagstaff, and a few shattered fragments of some long-lost vessel’s
planking.
Most probably the Norwegians had their attention directed at a very
early period to the existence of a land lying to the north of Finmarken
by the troops of migratory birds which they saw flying northward in
spring, and by the casual visits of sea-bears, which the drift-ice
carried to the south. There can be no doubt that they were the first
discoverers of Spitzbergen, but their history contains no positive
records of the fact, and it was not before the sixteenth century that
Europe first became acquainted with that desolate archipelago. Sir Hugh
Willoughby may possibly have seen it in 1559, but it is certain that
on June 19, 1596, Barentz, Heemskerke, and Ryp, who had sailed in two
ships from Amsterdam to discover the north-eastern passage to India,
landed on its western coast, and gave it the name it bears to the
present day. In the year 1607 it was visited by the unfortunate Henry
Hudson, and four years later the first English whalers were fitted out
by the Russia Company in London to fish in the bays of Spitzbergen, or
East Greenland, as it was at that time called, being supposed to be
the eastern prolongation of that vast island. Here our countrymen met
with Dutchmen, Norwegians, and Biscayans from Bayonne and the ports of
Northern Spain, and commercial rivalry soon led to the usual quarrels.
In the year 1613 James I. granted the Russia Company a patent, giving
them the exclusive right to fish in the Spitzbergen waters, and seven
ships of war were sent out to enforce their pretensions. The Dutch,
the Norwegians, and the Biscayans were driven away; a cross with the
name of the King of England was erected on the shore, and Spitzbergen
received the name of “King James his Newland.” This triumph, however,
was but of short duration, and after a struggle, in which none of the
combatants gained any decisive advantage, all parties came at last
to an amicable agreement. The English received for their share the
best stations on the south-western coast, along with English Bay and
Magdalena Bay. The Dutch were obliged to retreat to the north, and
chose Amsterdam Island, with Smeerenberg Bay, as the seat of their
operations. The Danes or Norwegians established their head-quarters on
Dane’s Island; the Hamburgers, who also came in for their share, in
Hamburg Bay; and the French or Biscayans on the north coast, in Red
Bay. At present a right or smooth-backed whale rarely shows itself
in the Spitzbergen waters, but at that time it was so abundant that
frequently no less than forty whalers used to anchor in a single bay,
and send out their boats to kill these cetaceans, who came there
for the purpose of casting their young in the sheltered friths and
channels. The fat of the captured whales was immediately boiled in
large kettles on the shore, and the bays of Spitzbergen presented a
most animated spectacle during the summer season.
Numerous coffins--an underground burial being impossible in this
frost-hardened earth--still bear witness to those busy times, and also
to the great mortality among the fishermen, caused doubtless by their
intemperate habits. They are particularly abundant at Smeerenberg,
where Admiral Beechey saw upwards of one thousand of them; boards
with English inscriptions were erected over a few, but the greater
number were Dutch, and had been deposited in the eighteenth century.
Some coffins having been opened, the corpses were found in a state of
perfect preservation, and even the woollen caps and stockings of the
mariners, who might perhaps have rested for more than a century _on_
this cold earth, were still apparently as new as if they had been but
recently put on.
[Illustration: 72. BURIAL IN SPITZBERGEN.]
In the seventeenth century the English and the Dutch made several
attempts to establish permanent settlements in Spitzbergen. The Russia
Company tried to engage volunteers by the promise of a liberal pay,
and as none came forward, a free pardon was offered to criminals
who would undertake to winter in Bell Sound. A few wretches, tired
of confinement, accepted the proposal, but when the fleet was about
to depart, and they saw the gloomy hills, and felt the howling
north-eastern gales, their hearts failed them, and they entreated the
captain who had charge of them to take them back to London and let them
be hanged. Their request to be taken back was complied with, but the
company generously interceded for them, and obtained their pardon.
Some time after, in the year 1630, an English whaler landed eight men
in Bell Sound to hunt reindeer. They remained on shore during the
night, but meanwhile a storm had arisen, and on the following morning
their ship had vanished out of sight. It was towards the end of
August, and they had no hope of rescue at this advanced period of the
year.
Their despair may be imagined, but they soon recovered their courage,
and wisely determined to make preparations for the impending winter,
instead of losing time in useless lamentations. Their first care was to
lay in a stock of food, and in a short time they had killed nineteen
reindeer and four bears. Fortunately they found in Bell Sound the
necessary materials for the erection of a hut. A large shed fifty feet
long and thirty-eight broad had been built as a workshop for the men
of the Russia Company, and they very judiciously constructed their
small hut of stones and thick planks within this inclosed space. They
thus gained a better protection against the icy wind and room for
exercise during stormy weather, one of the best preservatives against
the scurvy. They made their beds and winter dresses of the skins of the
animals they had killed, sewing them together with needles made of bone
splinters, and using disentangled rope-ends as thread.
[Illustration: 73. ARCTIC FOX.]
Their hut was ready by September 12, and to preserve their supply of
meat as long as possible, they lived four days of the week on the offal
of whales’ fat which lay scattered about in great plenty. From October
26 to February 15 they saw no sun, and from the 13th to the 31st of
December no twilight. The new year began with excessive cold: every
piece of metal they touched stuck to their fingers like glue, and their
skin became blistered when exposed to the air. The re-appearance of the
sun was as a resurrection from death. To increase their joy, they saw
two bears on the ice, one of which they killed, but they found, what
has since been frequently experienced by others, that the liver of
the animal has poisonous qualities, or is at least very unwholesome,
for, after eating it, they were all attacked with a kind of eruptive
fever, and their skin peeled off. Towards the middle of March their
provisions were well-nigh exhausted, but the Polar bears appearing more
frequently, replenished their stock. Soon also the migratory birds
arrived from the south, the foxes crept out of their burrows, and many
were caught in traps. On June 5 the ice began to break up, and on the
following morning one-half of the bay was open. A gale forced them to
seek the shelter of their hut. There, seated round the fire, they spoke
of their approaching delivery, when suddenly a loud halloo was heard.
They immediately rushed out into the open air, and hardly believed
their eyesight, for they were greeted by their comrades of the previous
summer, and saw their own well-known ship at anchor in the bay. Thus
were these brave-hearted men rescued after a ten months’ exile in the
latitude of 77°.
The possibility of wintering in Spitzbergen having thus been proved,
some volunteers belonging to the Dutch fleet were induced by certain
emoluments to attempt the same enterprise on Amsterdam Island; but,
less fortunate than their predecessors, they all fell victims to the
scurvy. A diary which they left behind recorded the touching history of
their sufferings. “Four of us,” these were its last words, “are still
alive, stretched out flat upon the floor, and might still be able to
eat if one of us had but the strength to rise and fetch some food and
fuel, but we are all so weak, and every movement is so painful, that we
are incapable of stirring. We constantly pray to God soon to release us
from our sufferings, and truly we can not live much longer without food
and warmth. None of us is able to help the others, and each must bear
his burden as well as he can.”
Since that time both the English and the Dutch have given up the idea
of forming permanent settlements in Spitzbergen, but scarcely a year
passes that some Russians and Norwegians do not winter in that high
northern land. As far back as the seventeenth century, the former used
to send out their clumsy but strongly-built “lodjes” of from 60 to 160
tons from the ports of Archangel, Mesen, Onega, Kola, and other places
bordering the White Sea, to chase the various animals of Spitzbergen,
the reindeer, the seal, the beluga, but chiefly the walrus, the most
valuable of all. These vessels leave home in July, or as soon as
the navigation of the White Sea opens, and as the shortness of the
season hardly allows them to return in the same year, they pass the
winter in some sheltered bay. Their first care on landing is to erect
a large cross on the shore, a ceremony they repeat on leaving, and
such is their religious faith that under the protection of that holy
symbol they mock all the terrors of the Arctic winter. Near the place
where their vessels are laid up, they build a large hut from twenty
to twenty-five feet square, which is used as a station and magazine;
but the huts used by the men who go in quest of skins, and which are
erected at distances of from ten to fifty versts along the shore, are
only seven or eight feet square. The smaller huts are usually occupied
by two or three men, who take care to provide themselves from the
store-house with the necessary provisions for the winter. Scoresby
visited several of these huts, some constructed of logs, others of
deal two inches in thickness. They are of the same kind as those used
by the peasants in Russia, and, being taken out in pieces, are erected
with but little trouble in the most convenient situation. The stoves
are built with bricks, or with clay found in the country. During
the stay of the hunters, they employ themselves in killing seals or
walruses in the water, and bears, foxes, deer, or whatever else they
meet with on land. Each ship is furnished with provisions for eighteen
months, consisting of rye flour for bread, oatmeal, barley-meal, peas,
salt beef, salt cod, and salt halibut, together with curdled milk,
honey, and linseed oil; besides which, they enjoy the flesh of the
animals which they kill. Their drink consists chiefly of _quas_, a
national beverage made from rye flour and water; malt or spirituous
liquors being entirely forbidden, to prevent drunkenness, as, when they
were allowed it, they drank so immoderately that their work was often
altogether neglected. Their fuel for the most part is brought with them
from Russia, and drift-wood is used for the same purpose.
The hunters, seldom travelling far in winter, make their short
excursions on foot on snow-skates, and draw their food after them on
hand-sledges. Not seldom they are overtaken by terrific snowstorms,
which force them to throw themselves flat upon the ground, and
sometimes even cost them their lives. Their best preservation
against the scurvy is bodily exercise; they also use the _Cochlearia
fenestrata_, which grows wild in the country, either eating it without
any preparation, or drinking the liquor prepared from it by infusion in
water. Yet, in spite of all their precautions, they often fall a prey
to this terrible scourge. In the year 1771, Mr. Steward, of Whitby,
landed in King’s Bay to gather drift-wood, and found a Russian hut.
After having vainly called for admittance, they opened it, and found a
corpse stretched out on the ground, its face covered with green mould.
Most likely the unfortunate man, having buried all his comrades, had,
as the last survivor, found no one to perform the same kind office
for himself. Generally the Russian hunters, after spending the winter
in Spitzbergen, return home in the following August or September; but
their stop is often prolonged during several years; and Scharostin,
a venerable Russian, who died in 1826 in Ice Sound, is deservedly
remarkable for having spent no less than thirty-two winters of his long
life in that high northern land, where he once remained during fifteen
consecutive years. Surely this man ought to have been crowned king of
Spitzbergen--
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
With a diadem of snow!
Every year, at the beginning of summer, about a dozen vessels leave the
ports of Hammerfest and Tromsö for Spitzbergen. Formerly it was a very
common thing for them to procure three cargoes of walrus and seals in
a season, and less than two full cargoes was considered very bad luck
indeed; now, however, it is a rare thing to get more than one cargo in
a season, and many vessels return home after four months’ absence only
half full. Yet, in spite of this diminution, the numbers of walruses
still existing in that country are very considerable, particularly on
the northern banks and skerries, which are only accessible in open
seasons, or perhaps once in every three or four summers, when the
persecuted animals get a little time to breed and replenish their
numbers.
[Illustration: 74. CHASE OF THE WALRUS.]
About midway between Hammerfest and Spitzbergen lies Bear Island,
originally discovered by Barentz on June 9, 1596. Seven years later,
Stephen Bennet, a shipmaster in the service of the Muscovy Company,
while on a voyage of discovery in a north-easterly direction, likewise
saw Bear Island on August 16. Ignorant of its previous discovery by
Barentz, he called it Cherie Island, after Sir Francis Cherie, a member
of the company, and to this day both names are used.
Bennet found some walruses on its desert shores, and returned in the
following year with a vessel fitted out by a merchant of the name of
Welden, to wage war with these sea-monsters. His first operations
were not very successful. Of a herd of at least a thousand walruses,
he killed no more than fifteen, and a later attack upon an equally
enormous troop raised the entire number of his victims to no more than
fifty. Their tusks alone were brought away, and along with some loose
ones collected on the beach formed the chief produce of the expedition.
At first the unwieldy creatures were fired at, but as the bullets made
no great impression on their thick hides, grapeshot was now discharged
into their eyes, and the blinded animals were finally killed with axes.
In the following year Welden himself proceeded to Bear Island, and the
art of walrus-killing gradually improving by practice, this second
expedition proved far more profitable than the first. Care had also
been taken to provide large kettles and the necessary fuel to boil
their fat on the spot, so that besides the tusks a quantity of oil was
gained. In 1606 Bennet again appeared on the field of action, and the
dexterity of the walrus-hunters had now become so great that in less
than six hours they killed more than 700, which yielded twenty-two
tons of oil. During the following voyage, Welden, who seems to have
acted in partnership with Bennet, each taking his turn, killed no less
than 1000 walruses in seven hours. Thus Bear Island proved a mine of
wealth to these enterprising men, and though the walruses are not now
so abundant as in the good old times, yet they are still sufficiently
numerous to attract the attention of speculators. Every year several
expeditions proceed to its shores from the Russian and Norwegian ports,
and generally some men pass the winter in huts erected on its northern
and south-eastern coasts.
Considering its high northern latitude of 75°, the climate of Bear
Island is uncommonly mild. According to the reports of some Norwegian
walrus-hunters, who remained there from 1824 to 1826, the cold was so
moderate during the first winter that, until the middle of November,
the snow which fell in the night melted during the daytime. It rained
at Christmas, and seventy walruses were killed during Christmas week
by the light of the moon and that of the Aurora. Even in February the
weather was so mild that the men were able to work in the open air
under the same latitude as Melville Island, where mercury is a solid
body during five months of the year. The cold did not become intense
before March, and attained its maximum in April, when the sea froze
fast round the island, and the white bears appeared which had been
absent during the whole winter. The second winter was more severe than
the first, but even then the sea remained open until the middle of
November--evidently in consequence of the prevailing south-westerly
winds. The greater part of Bear Island is a desolate plateau raised
about 100 or 200 feet above the sea. Along its western shores rises
a group of three mountains, supposed to be about 200 feet high, and
towards the south it terminates in a solitary hill to which the first
discoverers gave the appropriate name of Mount Misery. At the northern
foot of this terrace-shaped elevation the plateau is considerably
depressed, and forms a kind of oasis, where grass (_Poa pratensis_),
enlivened with violet cardamines and white polygonums and saxifragas,
grows to half a yard in height. The general character of the small
island is, however, a monotony of stone and morass, with here and there
a patch of snow, while the coasts have been worn by the action of the
waves into a variety of fantastic shapes, bordered in some parts by a
flat narrow strand, the favorite resort of the walrus, and in others
affording convenient breeding-places to hosts of sea-birds. In Coal
Bay, four parallel seams of coal, about equidistant from each other,
are visible on the vertical rock-walls, but they are too thin to be of
any practical use.
[Illustration: 75. A GLIMPSE OF JAN MEYEN’S ISLAND.]
Bear Island has no harbors, and is consequently a rather dangerous
place to visit. During the first expedition sent out from Hammerfest,
it happened that some of the men who had been landed were abandoned
by their ship, which was to have cruised along the coast while they
were hunting on shore. But the current, the wind, and a dense fog so
confused the ignorant captain that, leaving them to their fate, he
at once returned to Hammerfest. When the men became aware of their
dreadful situation, they determined to leave the island in their
boat, and taking with them a quantity of young walrus flesh, they
luckily reached Northkyn after a voyage of eight days. It seems almost
incredible that these same people immediately after revisited Bear
Island in the same ship, and were again obliged to return to Norway in
the same boat. The ship had anchored in the open bay of North Haven,
and having taken in its cargo, consisting of 180 walruses, which had
all been killed in a few days, was about to leave, when a storm arose,
which cast her ashore and broke her to pieces. The Russians had built
some huts in the neighborhood, and the provisions might probably have
been saved, but rather than winter in the island the crew resolved to
venture home again in the boat. This was so small that one-half of
them were obliged to lie down on the bottom while the others rowed;
the autumn was already far advanced, and they encountered so savage a
storm that an English ship they fell in with at the North Cape vainly
endeavored to take them on board. After a ten days’ voyage, however,
they safely arrived at Magerö, thus proving the truth of the old saying
that “Fortune favors the bold.” The distance from Bear Island to North
Cape is about sixty nautical miles.
* * * * *
In a straight line between Spitzbergen and Iceland lies Jan Meyen,
which, exposed to the cold Greenland current, almost perpetually
veiled with mists, and surrounded by drift ice, would scarcely ever be
disturbed in its dreary solitude but for the numerous walrus and seal
herds that frequent its shores. The ice-bears and the wild sea-birds
are its only inhabitants; once some Dutchmen attempted to winter there,
but the scurvy swept them all away. Its most remarkable features are
the volcano Esk and the huge mountain Beerenberg, towering to the
height of 6870 feet, with seven enormous glaciers sweeping down its
sides into the sea.