ON THE FROZEN OCEAN.
1. Unfavourable winds had hindered our progress for some days; we now
encountered heavy seas. On July 23 a sudden fall of the temperature and
dirty rainy weather told us that we were close to the ice, which we
expected to find later and much more to the northward, and on the evening
of July 25, lat. 74° 0′ 15″ N., we actually sighted it, the thermometer
marking 32·5° F., and 34·5° F. in the sea. The northerly winds, which had
prevailed for some time had broken up the ice, and it lay before us in
long loose lines. Its outer boundary was consequently the very opposite
of those solid walls of ice which we met with in Greenland in 1869, and
two years afterwards on the east of Spitzbergen. Though surprised at
finding the ice so far to the south, we never imagined that this was
anything but a collection of floes, which had drifted out perhaps from
the Sea of Kara through the Straits of Matotschkin. But only too soon
the conviction was forced upon us that we were already within the Frozen
Ocean, and that navigation in the year 1872 was to differ widely from
that of the preceding year. Lieutenant Weyprecht had the day before
fastened “the crow’s nest” to the mainmast of the _Tegetthoff_, and
henceforth it became the abode of the officer of the watch. On July 26,
while steering in a north-easterly direction, the ice became closer,
though it was still navigable; but we nowhere saw the heavy fields which
had astonished us on the east coast of Greenland, and which Lütke found
to be so dangerous to navigation. The temperature of the air and the sea
fell rapidly, and during the two following weeks it remained below the
freezing point almost uniformly, and without any essential difference
between day and night.
[Illustration: STILL LIFE IN THE FROZEN OCEAN.]
2. The frozen sea of Novaya Zemlya is characterized by that inconstancy
of weather which in our lower latitudes we attribute to the month of
April; the same variability is met with, though in lesser degree, in the
Greenland seas during the summer months. Snowstorms now alternated with
the most glorious blue skies. The black-bulbed thermometer showed 113° F.
in the sun, with 39° F. in the shade. The hunting season began, and the
kitchen was well provided with auks and seals. Our Dalmatians soon learnt
to like the dark flesh of the latter.
3. The ice gradually became closer; July 29 (74° 44′ N. Lat., 52° 8′ E.
Long.) we were able to continue our course only under steam, and heavy
shocks were henceforward inevitable; in many cases the vessel could
not force a passage except by charging the ice. In the night a vast,
apparently impenetrable barrier stopped our progress; but the tactics of
charging under steam again cleared a passage, and we penetrated into a
larger “ice-hole.” We now glided along over the shining surface of its
waters, as if we were navigating an inland lake, save that no copsewood
clothed the shores, but pale blocks of ice, which the mist, that now fell
and enveloped us, transformed into the most fantastic shapes, and at
last into mere shapelessness itself. In all that surrounded us neither
form nor colour was discernible; faint shadows floated within the veil
of mist, and our path seemed to lead no whither. A few hours before
the glowing fire of the noonday sun had lain on the mountain wastes of
Novaya Zemlya, while refraction raised its long coast high above the icy
horizon. Nowhere does a sudden change in Nature exercise so immediate an
effect on the mind as in the Frozen Ocean, where, too, all that brings
delight proceeds from the sun.
4. For some days we had entered into a world utterly strange to most
of us on board the _Tegetthoff_. Dense mists frequently enveloped us,
and from out of the mantle of snow of the distant land the rocks, like
decayed battlements, frowned on us inhospitably. There is no more
melancholy sound than that which accompanies the decay and waste of the
ice, as it is constantly acted on by the sea and thaw, and no picture
more sad and solemn than the continuous procession of icebergs floating
like huge white biers towards the south. Ever and anon there rises
the noise of the ocean swell breaking amongst the excavations of the
ice-floes, while the water oozing out from their icy walls falls with
monotonous sound into the sea; or perhaps a mass of snow, deprived of its
support, drops into the waves, to disappear in them with a hissing sound
as of a flame. Never for a moment ceases the crackling and snapping sound
produced by the bursting of the external portions of the ice. Magnificent
cascades of thaw-water precipitate themselves down the sides of the
icebergs, which sometimes rend with a noise as of thunder as the beams of
the sun play on them. The fall of the titanic mass raises huge volumes
of foam, and the sea-birds, which had rested on its summit in peaceful
confidence, rise with terrified screams, soon to gather again on another
ice-colossus.
5. But what a change, when the sun, surrounded by glowing cirrus clouds,
breaks through the mist, and the blue of the heavens gradually widens
out! The masses of vapour, as they well up, recede to the horizon, and
the cold ice-floes become in the sunlight dark borders to the “leads”
which gleam between them, on the trembling surface of which the midnight
sun is mirrored. Where the rays of the sun do not directly fall on it,
the ice is suffused with a faint rosy haze, which deepens more and more
as the source of light nears the horizon. Then the sunbeams fall drowsily
and softly, as through a veil of orange gauze, all forms lose at a little
distance their definition, the shadows become fainter and fainter, and
all nature assumes a dreamy aspect. In calm nights the air is so mild
that we forget we are in the home of ice and snow. A deep ultramarine sky
stretches over all, and the outlines of the ice and the land tremble on
the glassy surface of the water. If we pull in a boat over the unmoved
mirror of the “ice-holes,” close beside us a whale may emerge from its
depths, like a black shining mountain; if a ship penetrates into the
waste, it looks as weird as the “Flying Dutchman,” and the dense columns
of smoke, which rise in eddies from her funnel, remain fixed for hours
until they gradually melt away. When the sun sinks at midnight to the
edge of the horizon, then all life becomes dumb, and the icebergs, the
rocks, the glaciers of the land glow in a rosy, effulgence, so that we
are hardly conscious of the desolation. The sun has reached its lowest
point,—after a pause it begins to rise, and gradually its paler beams
are transformed into a dazzling brightness. Its softly warming light
dissolves the ban under which congelation has placed nature, the icy
streams, which had ceased to run, pour down their crystal walls. The
animal creation only still enjoys its rest; the polar-bear continues to
repose behind some wall of ice, and flocks of sea-gulls and divers sit
round the edge of a floe, calmly sleeping, with their heads under their
wings. Not a sound is to be heard, save, perhaps, the measured flapping
of the sails of the ship in the dying breeze. At length the head of a
seal rises stealthily for some moments from out the smooth waters; lines
of auks, with the short quick beat of their wings, whiz over the islands
of ice. The mighty whale again emerges from the depths, far and wide
is heard his snorting and blowing, which sounds like the murmurs of a
waterfall when it is distant, and like a torrent when it is near. Day
reigns once more with its brilliant light, and the dreamy character of
the spectacle is dissolved.
6. We had sailed over one “ice-hole,” and again a dense barrier of ice
frowned on us; as we forced our way into it, the ice closed in all round
us—we were “beset.” The ship was made fast to a floe, the steam blown
off, its hot breath rushing with a loud noise through the cold mist;
every open mesh in the net of water-ways was closed by the ice, which
soon lay in such thick masses around us, that any one provided with a
plank might have wandered for miles in any direction he liked. July 30,
the _Tegetthoff_ remained fast in her prison; no current of water, nor
any movement among the floes lying close to us was discernible; a dead
calm prevailed, and mist hung on every side. On the following day we
made vain efforts to break through a floe which lay on our bows. The
calm still prevailed, Aug. 1 (74° 39′ N. L. 53° E. L.), and no change
was to be seen in the ice. Aug. 2, the crew began with hearty good-will
the toilsome work of warping, but with no success, the smallness of the
floes hardly admitting of this manœuvre. In the evening of the same day
it seemed as if a fresh breeze would set us free; but after we had gone
on for a few cable-lengths, a great floe once more barred the route,
while at the same time the wind fell. At length, when the ice became
somewhat looser, we got up the engine fires, and in the following night
broke through, under steam, a broad barrier of ice, which separated us
from the open coast-water of Novaya Zemlya. In the morning of Aug. 3,
we forced our way into coast-water, twenty miles broad, to the north of
Matotschkin Schar, and steered due north, the mountainous coasts still in
sight. A belt of ice 105 miles broad lay behind us. The country greatly
resembled Spitzbergen, and we observed with pleasure its picturesque
glaciers and mountains rising to the height of nearly 3,000 feet, though
inconsiderable compared with the mountains of Greenland. Far and wide not
a fragment of ice was to be seen; there was a heavy swell on, the air was
unusually warm (41° F.), in the evening rain fell, and on Aug. 4 we had
dense mists and driving snow-storms, which forced us to keep to the west
of Admiralty Peninsula. During the night of Aug. 6, the snow-storms were
heavier than before, and the deck was quite covered. Towards the north
and west very close ice was seen, and since the temperature of the air,
even with the winds in the south-west, remained constantly below zero,
it was evident that the ice must stretch far in that direction also.
Aug. 7, we ran on the white barriers to the west of Admiralty Peninsula,
and far to the north, beyond a broad field of ice, refraction indicated
open water and showed the forms of “Tschorny Nos” floating in the air.
In the afternoon of Aug. 8 the ice in 75° 22′ N. L. became so thick
around us that we were compelled to have recourse to steam-power; but the
_Tegetthoff_, even with this auxiliary was unable against a head-wind
to penetrate a broad strip of close ice, and banking up our fires, we
determined to wait its breaking up. Close under the coast open water was
again observed, and in it—a Schooner! Every one now hastened to write
letters to his friends and relations, but the schooner, to which we
meant to give our letters and despatches, by running into the heart of
Gwosdarew Bay escaped the duty we had in store for it. About half-past
ten P.M. the wind had fallen and the ice began to open out, and we were
able to continue our voyage under steam in a north-westerly direction.
The sun lay before us, the clear mirror of distant “leads” glowed with
a glorious carmine, the barriers of ice which lay between these “leads”
appeared as stripes of violet, and only our immediate neighbourhood was
pale and cold. The _Tegetthoff_ laboured through the dense accumulation
of floes and about midnight reached open water, and the steam was again
blown off. Aug. 9, we sailed in coast-water perfectly free from ice,
excepting the icebergs we encountered, some about forty feet high. These,
generally, were so numerous and so small in size, that they were at once
seen to be offshoots from the small glaciers of Novaya Zemlya as they
plunge into the sea. Their surface was frequently covered with débris.
Loose drift-ice showed itself, Aug. 10, but the ship continued to steer
between the floes towards the north. In the forenoon of that day we were
again nearly “beset,” but happily escaped that fate after four hours’
warping. Aug. 11, our course was continued without impediment in a
northerly direction through the loose drift-ice. The land, from which we
had hitherto remained distant about eight or twelve nautical miles, now
declined in height from three thousand to fifteen hundred or a thousand
feet, and quickly lost its picturesque character. On the noon of August
12, on account of a thick mist, we made fast to a great floe, and were
able to commence on it the training of the dogs to drag the sledges.
[Illustration: GWOSDAREW INLET.]
7. In the neighbourhood of the Pankratjew Islands, a ship suddenly
and unexpectedly appeared on the horizon, and endeavoured to gain
our attention by discharges from a mortar, and by the hoisting of
flags. How great was our astonishment and our joy when we beheld the
Austro-Hungarian flag at the peak of the _Isbjörn_, and were able to
greet Count Wilczek, Commodore Baron Sterneck, Dr. Höfer, and Mr.
Burger half an hour afterwards on board the _Tegetthoff_. Coming from
Spitzbergen in the _Isbjörn_ (the ship of our precursory expedition of
1871) they had sighted us two days before. That in a sailing vessel, and
without any sufficient equipment, they had succeeded in following and
overtaking the _Tegetthoff_, which had penetrated so far with difficulty
and by the aid of steam was a proof both of skill and resolution. Their
object was to establish a depôt of provisions at Cape Nassau, at whatever
personal risk to themselves. About two o’clock in the morning our guests
returned to the _Isbjörn_, and both ships now sailed in company, and
without meeting any hindrance in the ice-free coast-water, in a northerly
direction. In the forenoon of Aug. 13, in 76° 18′ N. Lat. and 61° 17′ E.
Long., we came upon closer ice, amid mist and stormy weather, and the two
ships anchored to some firm land-ice two cable-lengths from each other,
about a mile from the land. Close to the south of us lay the Barentz
Isles with their singularly formed hills, which the walrus-hunters call
by the somewhat gloomy name of “The Three Coffins.” On our north an
enormous iceberg rose in dazzling whiteness above a faintly glimmering
field of ice, a harbinger of new countries—for its size forbade us
to think that it owed its origin to the glaciers of Novaya Zemlya.
Continuous winds from the W.S.W., close ice, mist, downfalls of snow,
the necessity of determining the geographical position of the depôt of
provisions which we had established, compelled us to lie for eight days
before the Barentz Islands. The opportunity we thus had of putting our
feet once more on the land was exceedingly agreeable. We made repeated
visits to the shore with two dog-sledges, in company with Professor
Höfer; and as his observations on the phenomena of the country are those
of a distinguished geologist, I here insert those he has kindly placed at
my disposal.
8. “The Barentz Isles are flat, girt with cliffs, and separated by
narrow straits from the coast, which rises up terrace on terrace. Its
rocks consist of a black, very friable slate, frequently alternating
with strata of mountain limestone of the carboniferous period, varying
in breadth from one to ten _metres_. These strata are filled with a
countless number of fossilized inhabitants of the sea, trilobites,
mussels, brachiopodes, crinoides, corals, &c., which are utterly foreign
to the Frozen Ocean as it now is, and whose cognates live only in warm
seas.
9. “The animal world, therefore, buried in the limestone of these
islands, is an indisputable proof that there was once, in these high
latitudes, a warm sea, which could not possibly co-exist with such great
glaciers as those which now immerse themselves in the seas of Novaya
Zemlya. That portion of the earth, now completely dead and buried in
ice, once knew _a period of luxuriant life_. In its sea there revelled
a world of life, manifold and beautiful in its forms, while the land,
as the discoveries on Bear Island and Spitzbergen prove, was crowded
with gigantic palm-like ferns. This age of the earth’s history is called
the carboniferous period; it was the rich and fertile youth of the high
north, which lived out its time more rapidly than the southern zones, now
in all their vigour and variety. If we compare the Fauna buried in the
chalk formations of the Barentz Isles, with the contemporaneous Fauna
which we know from the carboniferous formation of Russia, specially
that of the Ural, we find a very remarkable agreement, not only in
their general character, but also in particular organisms. Many of the
fossils of the carboniferous limestone of these high degrees of latitude
(76°-77°) are found in analogous strata of the Ural, and are proved
by the researches of Russian geologists to exist there as far as the
fiftieth degree of latitude. Without stopping to insist on the great
similarity between the stratification of Novaya Zemlya and the Ural—the
former being the real continuation of the latter—we dwell here on the
fact that in the carboniferous period there was a sea which stretched
from the fiftieth to the seventy-seventh degree of north latitude, _i.e._
twenty-seven degrees, or 405 geographical miles, which was animated by
the same Fauna, and which consequently must have presented the same
relations, especially a like warm temperature. From these signs it
would appear that the zones of climate now so decisively marked on the
surface of the earth did not exist at the carboniferous period. The
horizontal surface of the land leads us at the first to infer horizontal
stratification; but we find the contrary to be the case; the marine
deposits once horizontal, have been so raised at a later period that
they are now vertical. Since the friable slate degrades rapidly, and
the limestone layers very gradually, it may be assumed that the former
wasting away leaves the limestone layers standing like walls between
them—a thing which, in a small scale, may often be elsewhere observed. If
a glance at these buried fossils awakens in us an image, as in a dream,
of a creation rich in organic forms, a glance at the present state of the
Barentz Isles impresses us with the gloomiest feelings.
10. “Before us lies this small greyish brown fragment of the earth. The
cold, level ground is covered with sharp-edged pieces of rock, which
appear to be as it were macadamised, so closely are they rammed together.
Here and there, about a fathom’s length from each other, lie brownish
green masses like mole-hills. When we examine them more closely, each
mass resolves itself into a vast number of small plants of the same
species (_Saxifraga oppositifolia_), whose little stalks are covered with
dark green leaves, which are alive, and also with brown leaves, which
have been dead for years and years, but wither in the cold much more
gradually than with us. From this small heap, tender rosy blooms raise
their little heads, bidding defiance to the bitter snowy weather which
sweeps over the miserable plain. Another species of saxifrage (_Saxifraga
cœspitosa_), with shorter stalks and yellowish-white flowers, growing in
thick clumps, forms, together with the first-named variety and the more
rarely appearing _Saxifraga rivularis_, the hardiest representatives
of this family of plants so frequently found in the Polar regions. If
to these we add _Draba arctica_ with its little yellow flowers, forming
in valleys large patches of sward, the yellow flowering poppy (_Papaver
nudicaule_), and a rare willow (_Salix polaris_), which with some few
leaves peeps forth from the soil, we have described the whole Flora of
that desolate waste, in which a mere passing glance would scarce detect
the existence of vegetable life among the débris of rocks and the heaps
of snow. Mosses are found here and there in the moister fissures of
rocks, and especially on the coast, where old drift-wood, or the bones
of whales or other animals, afford the nourishment they need, and in
some places the mosses spread themselves out into small carpets. Lichens
love to shelter under the clusters of the different kinds of saxifrage,
though sometimes they are found by themselves. Of this class we will
mention merely the so-called Iceland moss (_Cetraria islandica_),
and a reindeer lichen (_Cladonia pyxidata_); the few other forms are
nearly related to those mentioned, and belong to the so-called creeping
lichens. One peculiarity of the Flora of the far north, which we have
already mentioned, is their growth in clumps. Only thus can these tender
organisms maintain their existence against the stern elements; and this
indeed is a characteristic of all Arctic creation, which is seen in the
animal world also, when its means of nourishment are hard to find. We
will point only to the herds of reindeer, of lemmings, of walruses, of
seals, &c., lastly to the vast flocks of birds; all of which illustrate
the principle: _common danger begets common defence_.”
11. Our involuntary leisure at the Barentz Isles enabled us to make
some precautionary preparations for our future contests with the ice;
for a ship may be crushed by the ice and sink in a few minutes, as had
happened some days previously, not far from us, to the yachts _Valborg_
and _Iceland_. Provisions and ammunition for four weeks were got ready,
and each man was entrusted with a special service, if it should ever come
to this extremity. To guard against the dreaded pressures of the ice,
heavy beams were hung round the hull of the vessel, so that the pressure
on the ship might be distributed over a larger surface, and the vessel
itself be raised instead of crushed. Our space on deck, somewhat limited
at first, had been considerably enlarged, although our numerous sledges,
our stock of drift-wood, and the rudder which had been unshipped, formed
inconvenient obstacles, while the chained-up dogs occasioned some
unpleasant surprises to those who had not succeeded in gaining their
affections. These poor animals, without protection, suffered much from
the cold rough weather which now prevailed, though subsequently some
provision was made for their comfort. Sumbu and Pekel, the two Lapland
dogs, were the most hardy, and slept without stirring, even when they
were completely covered with snow. It was only after a long and stout
resistance that the dogs became accustomed to the flesh of seals; at
first they growled at every one who offered it to them.
[Illustration: FORMATION OF THE DEPÔT AT “THE THREE COFFINS.”]
12. Aug. 14, we were threatened by the advance of an enormous line of
pack-ice, which inclosed us in the little “docks” of the land-ice, and
caused the _Isbjörn_ to heel over. In the evening a bear came near
this vessel, which was shot by Professor Höfer and Captain Kjelsen. On
the following day, with the help of the dogs and sledges, we removed
over the land-ice to “The Three Coffins” the provisions which were
to form the depôt: 2,000 lbs. of rye-bread in casks, 1,000 lbs. of
pease-sausages in tin cases. These were deposited in the crevice of a
rock and secured against the depredations of bears. We felt assured of
the conscientiousness of Russian or Norwegian fishermen, that they would
make use of these provisions only under the pressure of urgent necessity.
This depôt was intended to be the first place of refuge, in the event of
the ship being lost.
[Illustration: THE “TEGETTHOFF” AND “ISBJÖRN” SEPARATE.]
13. Both ships were dressed with flags, and round one common table we
celebrated the birthday, Aug. 18, of the Emperor and King, Francis Joseph
I. On Aug. 19 we fetched some drift-wood from the land, and saw from a
height an “ice-hole” stretching to the north at no great distance from
the coast. As we returned to the ship we came across a bear, which,
being assailed by so many hunters at once, took to flight. Aug. 20, some
changes in the ice seemed to make navigation possible, and we forthwith
went on board the _Isbjörn_ to bid adieu to our friends. It was no
common farewell. A separation to those who are themselves separated
from the world moves the heart to its depths. But besides this, in
bidding adieu to Count Wilczek, we felt how much we were indebted to
him, as the man who had fostered the work we were about to undertake,
who dreaded no danger while providing for our safety in the event of a
catastrophe to the expedition. Our high-minded friend was at this moment
the embodiment of our country, which, honouring us with its confidence
and trust, demanded that we should devote all our energies to the high
objects of the expedition. Often afterwards did this adieu return to our
memories. With a fresh wind from the north-east we passed the _Isbjörn_
as we steamed towards the north, while this vessel, veiled in mist, soon
disappeared from our eyes.
[Illustration: THE “TEGETTHOFF” FINALLY BESET.]
14. Our prospects, so far as the object of our expedition was concerned,
had meantime not improved. To cross the Frozen Sea to Cape Tscheljuskin
in the present year was not to be dreamt of, and yet the thought of
wintering in the north of Novaya Zemlya was positively intolerable. The
navigable water was becoming narrower every day, and the ice seemed to
increase in solidity, especially in the neighbourhood of the coast. In
the afternoon of this day we ran into an “ice-hole,” but in the night
barriers of ice stopped our further progress. As usual, the ship was
made fast to a floe, the steam blown off, and we awaited the parting
asunder of the ice.[16] Five walruses who had been watching us from a
rock as we entered that ill-starred “ice-hole,” sprang into the water and
disappeared.
15. Ominous were the events of that day, for immediately after we had
made fast the _Tegetthoff_ to that floe, the ice closed in upon us from
all sides and we became close prisoners in its grasp. No water was to be
seen around us, and _never again were we destined to see our vessel in
water_. Happy is it for men that inextinguishable hope enables them to
endure all the vicissitudes of fate, which are to test their powers of
endurance, and that they can never see, as at a glance, the long series
of disappointments in store for them! We must have been filled with
despair, had we known that evening that we were henceforward doomed to
obey the caprices of the ice, that the ship would never again float on
the waters of the sea, that all the expectations with which our friends,
but a few hours before, saw the _Tegetthoff_ steam away to the north,
were now crushed; _that we were in fact no longer discoverers, but
passengers against our will on the ice_. From day to day we hoped for
the hour of our deliverance! At first we expected it hourly, then daily,
then from week to week; then at the seasons of the year and changes of
the weather, then in the chances of new years! _But that hour never
came_, yet the light of hope, which supports man in all his sufferings,
and raises him above them all, never forsook us, amid all the depressing
influence of expectations cherished only to be disappointed.