LIFE ON BOARD THE “TEGETTHOFF.”
1. Like a spectre in white, the ship stretches out her arms, as if in
silent complaint, towards the heaven, and rests, in cruel mockery of
her destiny, on a mountain, not of water, but of ice, and seems like a
building ready to fall in. A wall of snow and ice surrounds her hull,
snow lies thick on her deck, and her rigging is stiffened in icy lines.
Could we see through her sides, we should then behold four-and-twenty
men parted off in two spaces under the suns of two lamps. Let us inspect
them, and first the cabin of the officers in the after-part of the ship.
2. Neither few nor slight were our struggles to remedy the various
inconveniences which we encountered; their enumeration here is meant
to aid the experience of future adventurers. Though our arrangements
were far from complete or perfect, we had never to complain of the
discomforts which previous expeditions, even the second German expedition
to Greenland, had to endure from the excessive condensation of moisture.
Against this enemy we protected ourselves by the snow wall which we
raised round the ship, by covering in the deck windows of the cabin, by
lining our quarters with vulcanized india-rubber, by sheds built over the
cabin stairs, all acting as condensers. Before, however, I enter on the
unavoidable inconveniences to which we were exposed by the formation of
ice, or by damp and the sudden change of temperature, I would preface my
remarks by observing, that all these discomforts and inconveniences are
to be endured far more easily than would seem possible to the reader,
and that life on board a ship of a North Pole expedition, under normal
circumstances, is free from annoyances worthy of mention.
[Illustration: THE “TEGETTHOFF” IN THE FULL MOON.]
3. It is a matter of the last importance to keep the air pure and
wholesome, and to maintain an equable warmth in the quarters of
the officers and crew. The accumulation of moisture and consequent
congelation in them is an inconvenience which requires incessant
watchfulness to avert.[18] The destruction of the snow wall which
surrounded the ship increased the condensation; for that snow covering
was nothing but a greatcoat for the ship and those on board. In the
beginning of November 1872 the frost on the bulk-heads of the berths,
and on those parts of the cabins which were impervious to warmer air,
was very perceptible. The bed-clothes were frozen at night to the
sides of the ship, the iron knees of the beams—not, alas! covered with
felt—gleamed like stalactites, small glaciers were formed under the
berths, and even in October the skylight was frozen, inches thick. Every
rise in the temperature caused this formation of ice to fall down like a
“douche,” and with the opening of a door a white vapour, even in October,
streamed along the deck. We prevented the increase of moisture by cutting
the openings in the deck, over which we placed two chimneys, each a foot
high and covered with a thin metal cap. We boarded up the skylight,
leaving a lid by which to air the cabin. But in spite of all this the
variations of temperature within our quarters were extraordinary. If
the heat of the air in the middle of the cabin and on a level with our
heads rose from -2° F. to 76° F.—our usual mean temperature—it amounted
on the floor to a little above 34° F., and fell during the night not
unfrequently below freezing-point.
4. But the greatest inconvenience perhaps with which we had to contend,
arose from the removal of the protection of the tent roof, which was
stretched over the after-part of the ship. The want of this prevented
our walking on the deck in bad weather, and it also hindered perfect
ventilation, which could only be secured, with the constant heat which
was maintained below, by keeping the deck windows open. Warming the air
from underneath the floor of the cabin would possibly be preferable
to the best stove. We had the stove of Meidingen of Carlsruhe, the
excellence of which had been tested on the _Germania_. This stove
consumed only 20 lbs. of coals daily, with a thermometer at -13° F.,
and after the adoption of certain arrangements to save the fuel, its
consumption amounted to only 12 lbs. Even in the coldest period of the
winter we never consumed more than 4½ cwt. in a month. The lighting of
the messroom and quarters of the men was effected by petroleum, the daily
consumption of which amounted to about 2⅔ lbs. Altogether there were in
the ship two large and two small lamps, besides the deck-lantern, which
were burning day and night. The berths were lighted with train-oil; for
special purposes, such as drawing, candles were used.
5. The stove had one troublesome enemy in the shape of a hole, as big as
a man’s head, in the door of the mess-room, through which a cold stream
of air poured itself; and as the ship dipped forward considerably, and
the hearth was only about a foot above the floor of the mess-room, this
stream filled the whole space with a lake of cold air from three to four
feet deep. Hence, while in the berth close by the stove there was a
temperature ranging between 100° F. and 131° F., in the other, there was
one which would have sufficed for the North Pole itself. In the former
a hippopotamus would have felt himself quite comfortable, and Orel, the
unhappy occupant of it, was often compelled to rush on deck, when the
ice-pressures alarmed us, experiencing in passing from his berth to
the deck a difference of temperature amounting to 189° F. In the other
berth of the mess-room, water, lemon-juice, and vinegar froze on the
floor. Those who occupied it, as they lay in beds, or those who sat at
the table to read, were in a cold bath reaching up to their neck. But
the hole was an indispensable necessity, for it was better to endure
the discomfort even of such a draught than to impede ventilation. Other
causes, too, disturbed the equilibrium of temperature. At night the stove
was sometimes, from sanitary considerations, not lighted, and then all
had to sleep in that cold bath. With the increase of cold and wind, our
inconveniences often assumed somewhat ludicrous forms. Some passages from
my journal will make this clear:—“When any come below the temperature
falls. If the door be opened there rolls in a mass of white vapour; if
any one opens a book which he has brought with him, it smokes as if it
were on fire. A cloud surrounds those that enter, and if a drop of water
falls on their clothes, it is at once converted into ice, even at the
stove. Frequently the upper stratum of air in the mess-room becomes so
heated, that the deck light has to be opened, and then it rises up, like
smoke out of a chimney, to blend itself with the cold air without.”
6. The arrangements of the officers’ mess-room are simple and in harmony
with its purpose. Here stands a large table, used for study and for
meals; the smaller berths, where the officers sleep, are round the sides
of the mess-room—just large enough to enable a man to breathe in. There,
in a recess between two pillars, an untold resource, the library (of
about 400 volumes, chiefly scientific); close beside it the chronometers;
and lastly, the inevitable evils, the medical stores, ranged round the
mast. By the side of scientific works stand Petermann’s _Mittheilungen_;
and between Milton’s _Paradise Lost_ and Shakespeare’s immortal works,
a whole tribe of romances, which were read with never-tiring delight.
Our instruments, too, frosted with ice, are here, and a chest containing
our journals. Once a month a cask, filled with wine—the chemical
wine—concocted of snow, alcohol, tannin, sugar, and glycerine, was placed
there. Dr. Kepes was not only our physician, but our wine brewer. One
thing more we have to mention, which, alas! incommoded us much too
little—wine; that is, wine made in Austria, from grapes. As we have
already mentioned, the want of room in the cabin prevented our laying in
a large stock, and the supplies we had were frozen in a cellar below the
mess-room, about the middle of December, for the temperature of even this
place was about 16° F. or 14° F. Each, however, had a bottle of rum as an
allowance for eighteen days. But quite inexhaustible was the supply of
our common drink—melted snow—a great jar of which, filled to the brim,
stood always on the table. Under the cabin were our supplies of alcohol
and petroleum, accessible only by well-fitting pipes, but possible
volcanoes as far as our safety was concerned. From the accumulation of
so many combustible materials, together with 20,000 cartridges, and with
several lamps constantly burning, it is clear that the danger of fire was
great. But once only had we an alarm from this source—when Carlsen caused
us much trepidation by accidentally discharging a rifle in the cartridge
magazine.
7. Let us now turn to the persons who occupied this mess-room. Marola,
the steward, lights the lamp, and kindles the fire, and awakens those
who were not already awoke by the smoke from the stove, with the cry,
“Signori, le sette e tre quarti, prego d’alzarsi;” and after a pause of
a quarter of an hour, during which the sleepers seem carefully to deny
their existence, he startles this silence of indifference by the second
call: “Colazion’ in tavola.” Out of every berth now comes forth its
occupant, each in picturesque costume; costumes teach us how superficial
after all is civilization in man!
8. The day’s work begins. The watch, as ever, walks the deck, lest
the ice should slip away from the world unobserved; in the mess-room
meanwhile calculations or drawing or writing are in full operation. Our
daily meals consist of a breakfast of cocoa, biscuit, and butter; of a
dinner of soup, boiled beef, preserved vegetables, and _café noir_, and
of tea in the evening, with hard biscuit, butter, cheese, and ham. I
would recommend _potage_ instead of _tea_ for the evening meal to all
future expeditions. Many of the articles of food must be thawed before
the process of cooking begins, the greater part of the provisions
being frozen as hard as iron. The tins with preserved meat stand for
hours in boiling water, and the things for supper on the cabin stove,
in order to be thawed. A plate of cheese that steams, butter as hard
as a stone, which has thrown off the salt it contained in great lumps
from the action of frost, a ham as hard as the never-thawed ground of
the Tundra of Siberia, form an icy repast, specially if we use knives,
which are so cold that they often break with the least exertion of
force. I will here notice the sanitary importance—insisted on by Parry
and Ross—of fresh bread, which the cook in an Arctic ship should be able
to bake about twice a week. On board the _Tegetthoff_ we used at first
Liebig’s “baking-powder,” but this from being kept too long gave such
a disagreeable taste to the bread, that we gave it up and contented
ourselves with a defective leaven.
[Illustration: DIVINE SERVICE ON DECK.]
9. Every Sunday at noon we celebrated Divine Service. Under the shelter
of the deck-tent, the Gospel was read to the little band of Christians
gathered together by the sound of the ship’s bell, in all that grave
simplicity which marked the worship of the early Christian Church. The
Service over, we then sat down to the Sunday dinner, which was graced by
a glass of wine and cake. Carlsen and Lusina were our guests by turns.
Carlsen always appeared in his wig, trimmed with extra care, and on the
high festivals of the Church decorated also with the cross of the order
of St. Olaf. Lusina, our excellent-boatswain, was ready to talk with
enthusiasm on any subject whatever, prefacing his stream of words with
some sententious remark or with some far-fetched introduction. During
our meals the conversation turned on our plans for the future; we talked
of Polar bears; we discussed the question of the existence of Gillis’
Land and the possibility of our reaching Siberia; but very seldom did
we venture to speak of what filled the minds of all—our captivity in
the ice. Political combinations formed a favourite theme; and as we had
some old numbers of the _Neue Frei Presse_ on board, they furnished an
inexhaustible source of topics for conversation. The events of the year
1870 were related as the latest news, and we thought anxiously of the
issue of the war between Germany and France, and feared lest Austria
should be compelled to take part in it.
10. After dinner came the hour for contemplation; in our lonely berths
and by the side of our beds we sat down to brood—to listen to our
watches beating seconds. The English Arctic expeditions, during the long
period of their enforced leisure, found a great source of amusement and
distraction in theatricals. But the ships of these expeditions had far
larger crews than the _Tegetthoff_, and the men could be more easily
spared for these recreations. But there were other reasons why we could
not think of following the example of the English. Our situation during
the first winter was far too serious for such things, and no other place
for the theatre was at our disposal except the barricaded deck; and we
should have had to sit there with a thermometer marking from 25° to 37°
of cold, on the centigrade scale, and see how the actors and the audience
suddenly rubbed their frost-bitten feet with snow! There was one other
potent reason for this renunciation—our performances must have been in
four different languages.
11. Monotonous beyond all monotony is life in the long night of a Polar
winter, and exile can never on earth be so entire as here under the
dreadful triumvirate—darkness, cold, and solitude. In such a life, the
man who surrenders himself to idleness, or even to sleeping during the
day, must necessarily be utterly demoralized. In fact, nothing can be
more destructive to an expedition wintering in the Arctic regions than
the indulgence of mental or bodily lassitude. The real ground of the
failure of the attempts made in earlier times to winter in Jan Mayen and
other places in the far North was probably the utter want of discipline.
There is, however, a widely spread, though mistaken view, that the long
day of Polar lands is oppressive to man. Nothing is more untrue; for
not continual light, but constant darkness, is distressing. Continual
daylight heightens the energies and vital powers; and yet, in our own
first winter, it was less the darkness which wore us than the perpetual
anxiety; when our greatest consolation was found in the Arabic proverb,
“_In niz beguzared_” (_This too will pass away_), inscribed on our cabin
wall.
12. After supper, before going to bed, we smoked our cigars in the shed
over the cabin steps, with a thermometer from 25° to 37° below zero C.,
and talked pleasantly over bygone days, though our thoughts were not
unmixed with gloomy forebodings, as we heard ever and anon the ominous
sounds that issued from the moving ice. Existence on board a straining
and groaning ship resembles life over a volcano. It was only after we had
been some time in this ice-covered wooden grotto that the temperature
rose, through our own heat, a few degrees, and it was certainly some
testimony to the excellence of my down-quilted clothes that I could wear
them in the cabin without being distressed by the heat, and yet I was
able to sit the whole evening in this freezing hole without suffering
from cold. A train-oil lamp sends out almost more smoke than light,
and when the snow drifted, we had to contend with the importunities of
the dogs, who seemed to regard the deck shed as a great dog-kennel.
With a sudden rise of the outer temperature this shed became utterly
uninhabitable, for its coating of ice then melted and fell down like
rain.
13. The effect of the long winter night is even greater on the body than
on the mind, because of the insufficient opportunities for exercise.
Middendorf contrasting the influence of climate on men remarks:—“I
consider travels in cold regions, even in the most unfavourable
conditions of climate, to be far less dangerous to life than travels
under the tropics. The former certainly are unutterably more miserable,
but as certainly less deadly. I say this notwithstanding the danger which
threatens ships when they penetrate far within the realms of ice. We
are never secure from sudden and deadly attacks of illness in tropical
countries, but the longer we remain in them the less is the danger;
whereas the high North deteriorates the constitution of the blood, and
after three winters, very few can stand a fourth.” To the influences of
Polar life detrimental to health must be added the constant hindrance to
perspiration from wearing an extra quantity of woollen clothing—more or
less hurtful as it is more or less waterproof—the want of fresh animal
and vegetable food, and last, but not least, the periodic departure of
light and warmth.
14. Our sanitary condition during the two winters we spent on board the
_Tegetthoff_ was not altogether satisfactory. Scorbutic affections of
the mouth and diseases of the lungs appeared sometimes in distressing
shapes, and scarcely a day passed in which we had not one or two on the
sick-list. I believe, however, that our trying situation had far more to
do with these evils than the southern blood and breeding of our people.
The incessant watchfulness and care of Dr. Kepes left nothing undone
which would counteract the evil influences to which we were exposed. The
berths of the crew were changed in rotation, and those which were exposed
to the greatest accumulation of ice were dried by warm air conveyed
through movable pipes. Want of exercise, constant change of temperature,
depression of mind, the periodic scarcity of fresh meat, were the
causes of the scurvy. In our first winter it appeared only in the more
crowded quarters of the crew. It was then also that the first symptoms
of lung-disease appeared in Krisch, the engineer, which he probably
contracted from “catching cold.” From that time he liked to sit by the
stove and always complained of cold. Our supplies of preservatives
against, and remedies for scurvy were rather limited, although we had
at our disposal several hundred tins of preserved vegetables, a cask of
cloud-berries (_Rubus chamæmorus_), which we had brought from Tromsoe,
and above a hundred bottles of lime-juice. Wine also is an important
preservative; we therefore served out to the crew, notwithstanding our
small supply, twice a week, not Kepes’ artificial, but real wine—at the
rate of two bottles for eighteen men. No doubt scorbutic symptoms would
have been far more general and severe, had we not been fortunate enough
to shoot no less than sixty-seven Polar bears, a larger number than
had fallen to any previous expedition. It was more a sign of our good
intentions to leave nothing undone or untried in our efforts against
this malady, than any actual service it was to us, that we sowed cress
and cabbage—radishes did not succeed—in a bed which we suspended over
the stove. It was interesting, however, to observe how the little plants
of cress, with every change of position, always turned to the light of
the lamp, growing to the height of three inches, and in spite of their
brimstone colour retaining the true cress flavour.
15. The use of the bath tends greatly to promote health, for without
it the skin of the body has no other stimulant; but the insecurity of
our position rendered bathing sometimes a somewhat doubtful enjoyment.
I remember many cases, when some of us, while bathing in the cold dark
washing place in lukewarm water an inch deep, were alarmed by a sudden
pressure of ice. Ultimately we gave up this practice, finding that it
produced a troublesome amount of damp.
16. To a stranger, who should have visited us during this winter, nothing
in the ship would have been so surprising and interesting as a visit to
the quarters of the crew. Except for an hour, from five to six o’clock
in the evening, when they were encouraged to take exercise in the open
air, the rest of their time was spent in school, or in the duties of
the watch, or in the work of the ship. Our supply of Slavonic books was
unfortunately not very ample, and besides, not all the crew were able
to read; the greater therefore was their tendency, like men of southern
climes, to harmless noise, and I believe that some of our people, during
the whole expedition, never ceased to speak. Here I beg to insert some
passages from my journal:—“Passing by the steaming kitchen, we enter
their messroom. Here in a narrow space we find the toilers of the sea
and the mountains—eighteen in number. A little band of Dalmatians who
for the first time encounter darkness and cold, the horrors of which are
increased tenfold to men born and bred in the sunny South. Truly it could
be no little thing to such men to be torn from sleep almost every night
by the movement of the ice, to sit day after day in the long night of
winter without any real intellectual occupation, and yet not to become
demoralized, but remain calm and composed, and ever ready to obey and
oblige. Can anything higher be said in their praise? Those men slept,
each by himself, in a double row of berths; only Lusina the boatswain,
and Carlsen the harpooner, who had circumnavigated Spitzbergen and
Novaya Zemlya, occupied a separate partition. The clatter of the tongues
of so many vehement Southerners was like the sound made by the smaller
wheels of a machine, while the naive simplicity of the grave Tyrolese
came in between times, like the steady beat of a great cog-wheel. It was
a miniature reproduction of the confusion of tongues of Babel. Lusina
speaks Italian to the occupants of the officers’ cabin, English with
Carlsen, French with Dr. Kepes, and Slavonic with the crew. Carlsen
had adopted for the ‘Slavonians,’ as he called our people, a kind of
speech compounded of Norwegian, English, German, Italian, and Slavonic.
The crew, with the exception of the two Italians, speak Slavonic among
themselves. The head of the little German colony is the cook, a Styrian;
his heart is better than his culinary skill, for only too readily he
leaves his work to be done by the stove. There is also among them a
Moravian, Pospischill, the Vulcan of the ship; but we must return to the
predominant race—the Slavonic. There is Lukinovich, a very Harpagon,
always collecting, finding treasures in nails, empty bottles, lamp wicks,
and searching even under the snow for articles wherewith to fill his
sack—the sack which he was one day to leave behind him, much against the
grain, when we abandoned the ship. There is Marola, the steward, and
Fallesich, who had worked at the Suez Canal; these are our great singers.
Then Palmich with his lance, the man whose zeal never bated, and whose
very glance transfixed everything; Vecerina, the Job of the party, and
the merry Titans, Sussich and Catarinich; Latkovich and Lettis, ‘the
philosophers;’ Stiglich, the immovable confessor of passive obedience
and the unlawfulness of resistance; Zaninovich, the ‘pearl;’ Haller the
herdsman and Klotz the prophet. Five of these men had run away from their
wives. Klotz the prophet was under all circumstances, not indeed the
most useful, but the most interesting person of this little community. A
lofty calm worthy of an Evangelist graced his outer man; of still greater
stature than Andreas Höfer, he wore, like him, a large black beard. As
a hunter, a guide, a collector of stones, and a lonely enthusiast, he
had moved about the mountains of his home, leading a life of visions. At
home he was regarded as an incomparably bold mountaineer, and the ropes
of the ship were to him so many convenient foot-paths. His reputation as
a physician in his native land was great, and on board ship he failed
not with his good offices. Haller, his fellow-countryman, shared with
Klotz the office of armourer, and the duties of hunter and driver of the
sledge-dogs; and when we began our sledge journeys, both of them were
ready to relieve others in dragging. Both had served in the army, Klotz
on the Tonale, Haller on the Stelvio, and in 1868 the latter had been
my useful companion when I was engaged in the survey of the Ortler and
Adamello Alps. ‘The philosophers’ of our party, Latkovich and Lettis, had
drawn a fine distinction between the different layers of ice, according
as they contained a greater or less amount of saline matter: _Ghiaccio
della prima_ and _Ghiaccio della seconda qualità_.”
17. To obviate as far as possible the evils of too much leisure among
the men, a school was instituted at the beginning of the January of
the second year; Lieutenant Weyprecht, Brosch, and Orel undertook the
Italians and Slavonians, and I the Tyrolese. To avoid all confusion I
retired with my smaller body of pupils to the shed on deck. Here, with
the thermometer at 25° to 37° below zero C., the seed of wisdom was sown
in the hearts of these sons of nature; but alas! the climate was not
favourable to its growth. After many painful disillusions, the Pole was
ascertained to be the intersection of lines in a point, of which nothing
was to be seen in reality. If in this little lecture-room an exercise had
to be examined, and the scholars were obliged to hold in their breath,
in order that the teacher, who spoke out of a cloud, might be able to
see the slate; or when the pupils engaged in a division sum had suddenly
to stop to rub their hands with snow, was it a matter of wonder if the
school did not flourish exceedingly?
18. The food of the crew consisted principally of preserved meats,
different kinds of pulse, and the products of the chase, amounting on
an average to two bears a week. Bear-flesh, roasted, was liked by all;
the seal was at first despised, till necessity corrected taste. Besides
artificial wine, water was their strongest drink.