THE GERMAN EXPEDITION (1869−70)
The German Expedition left Bremerhaven on 15th June 1869. There were two
boats—the _Germania_ and the _Hansa_. The expedition was to make the
east coast of Greenland and then penetrate to the north as far as
possible.
The ice was reached on 15th July. On the 20th of July the two ships were
separated through a misunderstanding, and they never met again.
From the 20th of July till the end of August the _Hansa_ struggled
through the pack-ice which drifts along the coast of Greenland.
According to instructions, it was to attempt to reach Sabine Island, but
that was found impossible. At the end of August it became fast in the
ice, and drifted south.
On the 27th September the crew of the _Hansa_ began building a house
with coal-tiles on the floe. It was 20 feet long, 14 feet broad, and 6½
feet in the gable, while the side walls were 4 feet 8 inches high. For
cement, powdered snow was used, and over this water was poured, which
soon froze the whole into a compact mass.
About the middle of October the _Hansa_ was wrecked by the pressure of
the ice. It sprang a leak and slowly sank, and the crew had sufficient
time to save a good many necessary articles which were stacked round the
house on the floe.
The ice-field slowly but steadily drifted to the south. By the 3rd of
November it had passed the Liverpool coast, and had reached Scoresby’s
Sound. A walrus and several bears were shot, and supplied the party with
fresh meat. November and December passed, and nothing particular
happened. Christmas was spent in quite an enjoyable manner, after the
German fashion. On the 2nd of January 1870 a storm arose, and when it
was over it was discovered that half of the floe had been destroyed. On
the 11th another storm did great damage, and greatly reduced the size of
the floe. A huge gap opened in the ice near to the house, and all the
firewood drifted into the raging sea. The floe was now only 150 feet in
diameter, but during the night the masses of ice became closely packed
again. On the 14th another frightful storm was experienced: a fissure
opened in the ice under the house and the roof fell in, but fortunately
the inmates all escaped. Some shelter was obtained in the boats during
the next five nights, until a new house half the size of the old one was
built. This house had sleeping-room for only six men, so that from this
time the remainder had to sleep in the boats. It was not until the 7th
of May that the opportunity came to leave the floe in their boats. They
had spent 200 days on the ice. On the 4th of June they succeeded in
reaching the island of Illuidlek. They left the island on the 6th and
made for Friedrichsthal, the nearest colony on the south-west coast of
Greenland, which was reached on the 13th of June, and where they
received a hearty welcome. After a few days here, they journeyed to
Julianashaab, about 80 miles distant, from which they obtained a boat
for Europe.
* * * * *
After parting with the _Hansa_ on the 20th of July, the _Germania_
battled with the ice in various latitudes, and after great difficulties
succeeded in reaching Sabine Island on the 5th of August.
Sabine Island is one of the Pendulum Islands discovered by Clavering in
1823. The _Germania_ finally wintered in a little bay in the south-east
corner of the island, after making a trip to the north of Shannon
Island.
Several short sledging expeditions were made before winter set in, but
the main expedition to the north was made in the following spring.
Musk-oxen were plentiful, and several bears were shot. Deserted
Esquimaux huts were found, but no natives were seen by the Expedition.
The party had several serious adventures with bears. One of them is thus
described:—“Theodor Klentzer climbed the Germaniaberg to view the
landscape in the increasing midday light. Reaching the top, he seated
himself on a rock, and sang a song in the still air. As he looked behind
him, however, he saw, not many steps off, a huge bear, which with great
gravity was watching the stranger. Now, to our ‘Theodor,’ who was as
quiet and decided a man as he was powerful, this would, under other
circumstances, have been nothing; for the bear stood wonderfully well
for a shot, and could not easily be missed; but Klentzer was totally
unarmed, not having even a knife. Incredible! is it not? But, as
Lieutenant Payer writes, ‘the bears always come when one has forgotten
all about them.’
“Thus Klentzer saw himself unarmed and alone, far from his companions,
and close to the bear. Flight was the only, though a doubtful, chance of
safety, and the audacious thought struck him of plunging down the steep
side of the glacier; but he chose the softer side-slope, and began to
hurry down the mountain. Upon looking back, after a time, he perceived
the great bear trotting behind him at a little distance, like a great
dog. Thus they descended the mountain for some time. If Klentzer halted,
so did the bear; when he went on, the bear followed slowly; if he began
to run, the bear did the same. Thus the two had gone some distance, and
Klentzer thought seriously of saving himself, as the bear, finding the
chase somewhat wearisome, might press close upon his heels. He therefore
uttered a loud shout, but the bear, only disconcerted for a moment,
seemed to get more angry and approached quicker, so that he seemed to
feel the hot breath of the monster. At this dreadful moment—and it was
most likely his preservation—he remembered the stories he had heard,
and while running, pulled off his jacket, throwing it behind him. And
see! the trick answers: the bear stops and begins to examine the jacket.
Klentzer gains courage, rushes on down the mountain, sending out a shout
for help, which resounds through the silent region. But soon the bear is
again at his heels, and he must throw away cap and waistcoat, by which
he gains a little. Now Klentzer sees help approaching—several friends
hurrying over the ice. Collecting his last strength, he shouts and runs
on. But help seems in vain, for the pursuer hurries too, and he is
obliged to take the last thing he has, his shawl, which he throws
exactly over the monster’s snout, who, more excited still by renewed
shouting, throws it back again contemptuously with a toss of the head,
and presses forward upon the defenceless man, who feels his cold black
snout touch his hand. Klentzer now gave himself up for lost; he could do
no more; but the wonderful thought struck him of fastening up the bear’s
throat with the leather belt which he wore round his body. Fixedly he
stared into the merciless eyes of the beast—one short moment of
doubt—the bear was startled, his attention seemed drawn aside, and the
next moment he was off at a gallop.”
Another bear incident had a more serious ending:—
“We were sitting (writes Lieutenant Payer) fortunately silent in the
cabin, when Koldewey suddenly heard a faint cry for help. We all
hurriedly tumbled up the companion-ladder to the deck, when an
exclamation from Börgen, ‘A bear is carrying me off!’ struck painfully
on our ears.
“It was quite dark; we could scarcely see anything, but we made directly
for the quarter whence the cry proceeded, armed with poles, weapons,
etc., over hummocks and drifts, when an alarm-shot, which we fired in
the air, seemed to make some little impression, as the bear dropped his
prey and ran forward a few paces. He turned again, however, dragging his
victim over the broken shore-ice, close to a field which stretched in a
southerly direction. All depended upon our coming up with him before he
could reach this field, as he would carry his prey over the open plain
with the speed of a horse, and thus escape. We succeeded. The bear
turned upon us for a moment, and then, scared by our continuous fire,
let fall his prey.
“We lifted our poor comrade up on to the ice, to bear him to his
cabin—a task which was rendered somewhat difficult by the slippery and
uneven surface of the ice. But after we had gone a little way, Börgen
implored us to make as much haste as possible. On procuring a light, the
coldest nature would have been shocked at the spectacle which poor
Börgen presented. The bear had torn his scalp in several places, and he
had received several injuries in other parts of his body. His clothes
and hair were saturated with blood. We improvised a couch for him in the
rear of our own cabin, as his own was not large enough.
“The first operation was performed upon him on the cabin table. And here
we may briefly notice the singular fact that, although he had been
carried more than 100 paces with his skull almost laid bare, at a
temperature of −13° F., his scalp healed so perfectly that not a single
portion was missing.”
Börgen’s narrative was as follows:—
“About a quarter before 9 p.m. I had gone out to observe the occupation
of a star, which was to take place about that time, and also to take the
meteorological readings. As I was in the act of getting on shore,
Captain Koldewey came on to the ice. We spoke for a few moments, when I
went on shore, while he returned to the cabin. On my return from the
observatory, about 50 steps from the vessel, I heard a rustling noise to
the left, and became aware of the proximity of a bear. There was no time
to think, or to use my gun. The grip was so sudden and rapid that I am
unable to say how it was done; whether the bear rose and struck me down
with his fore-paws, or whether he ran me down. But from the character of
the injuries I have sustained (contusions and a deep cut of the left
ear), I conclude that the former must have been the case. The next thing
I felt was the tearing of my scalp, which was only protected by a
skull-cap. This is their mode of attacking seals, but, owing to the
slipperiness of their skulls, the teeth glide off. The cry of help which
I uttered frightened the animal for a moment; but he turned again and
bit me several times on the head. The alarm had meanwhile been heard by
the captain, who had not yet reached the cabin. He hurried on deck,
convinced himself that it was really an alarm, roused up the crew and
hastened on to the ice, bringing assistance to his struggling comrade.
The noise evidently frightened the bear, and he trotted off with his
prey, which he dragged by the head. A shot fired to frighten the
creature effected its purpose, inasmuch as he dropped me, and sprang a
few steps aside; but he immediately seized me by the arm, and, his hold
proving insufficient, he seized me by the right hand, on which was a fur
glove, and this gave the pursuers time to come up with the brute, which
had by its great speed left them far behind. He was now making for the
shore, and would certainly have escaped with his prey, had he succeeded
in climbing the bank. However, as he came to the edge of the ice, he
turned along the coast-side, continuing on the rough and broken ice,
which greatly retarded his speed, and thus allowed his pursuers upon the
ice to gain rapidly upon him. After being dragged in this way for about
300 paces, almost strangled by my shawl, which the bear had seized at
the same time, he dropped me, and immediately afterwards Koldewey was
bending over me with the words, ‘Thank God! he is still alive!’ The bear
stood a few paces on one side, evidently undecided what course to
pursue, until a bullet gave him a hint that it was high time to take
himself off.
“No one thought of pursuing him, for their first care was to carry the
wounded man on board, whither the doctor and Herr Tranmitz had gone in
order to prepare the requisites for binding up the wounds. The main
injuries were in the head, where, amongst numerous other wounds from the
bites, two especially from 4 to 6 inches long ran along the scalp, the
edges of which hung loose, leaving the skull bare for one-third to
two-fifths of an inch. The other wounds, about twenty in number, were in
part caused by striking against the fragments and rough broken edges of
the ice. It is worth while mentioning that, neither during the act of
receiving the wounds nor during the process of healing, which progressed
favourably, did I experience the smallest pain.”
The sledge-journey to the north left on the 8th March 1870. The party
consisted of ten men, and they had two sledges. The smaller sledge had
four men who were to accompany the expedition for a week, and then
return after laying a dépôt. A storm and the low temperature forced them
to return to the ship a few days after leaving.
On the 24th March they started again. During the first day one of the
men had the whole of his right foot frost-bitten, and the convoy-sledge
had to return to the ship. A herd of musk-oxen was seen on Hochstetter’s
Promontory, but none was shot. A bear was killed on the 4th of April,
and supplied the party with meat, and his fat served as fuel four days.
On the 6th of April they crossed the 76° of latitude, and on the south
side of Cape Karl Ritter discovered traces of Esquimaux summer tents. On
the 11th April, Cape Bismarck in 76° 47′ was reached, and this was the
end of the actual sledge-journey. Leaving their tent here, they
journeyed to a mountain in 77° 1′ north latitude, and 18° 50′ west
longitude, where a cairn was erected. Provisions were now running short,
and they were compelled to return. Two musk-oxen were shot at Cape
Bismarck. Like many of the other expeditions about this period, they
suffered greatly from want of snow-shoes, and frequently had to wade
through snow up to the thighs. The difficulties of such a sledge-journey
are well described by Lieutenant Payer:—
“Amongst other disagreeables of an Arctic sledge-journey is its
monotony. The ideas and wishes contained within the limited horizon of
life in the Arctic world pass as quickly away as the eye is wearied by
the monotony of the landscape.
“Conversation carried on by men straining at the traces can certainly
not be very animated. The frost prevents smoking, for the pipes freeze.
There is a continued conflict against the loss of warmth; and the cold
penetrates in a hundred different ways. Now the chin is numbed, a
painful straining of the forehead sets in, or a violent pricking of the
nostrils, which are exposed to the wind. Sometimes one stands in danger
of the heels, the toes, or the hands being frost-bitten. The hair of the
face, and even the eyelashes, get hoar with frost,—indeed, the eyes are
often completely closed,—and every frozen spot on the body must at once
be rubbed with lumps of snow resembling pumice-stone, until a warm,
pricking glow succeeds. When, as in the case of many of our party, the
frozen hands or feet were not rubbed with snow until too late, it led to
numerous blisters. The fingers swelled up into lumps, and became quite
numbed; but the noses (the whole eight of which were frozen) were more
fortunate: they emerged from a white into a red stage of enlarged
dimensions, were eventually covered with a parchment-like skin,
remaining for some time most sensitive, and by slow degrees regained
their normal condition, so that by the time we landed in Europe they
were all right again. The heat of our bodies, which we did our best to
retain by warm woollen clothes, was carried away in a moment by the
slightest wind; and if it increased, the cold crept between every button
of our seal-skin clothing; the penetrating icy wind was felt at every
stitch; the arms hung down like lead, deadly cold, and no one dared to
walk about without a mask. If the wind rose still more, curtains of
penetrating snow-crystals rose with it from the ground; then a
snowstorm, which always comes from the north, might be expected,
announcing itself by a lofty white appearance in the south, the violet
colour and close proximity of the mountains, and low-hanging clouds. But
still we risk the march forward against the thickening snow, until
painful breathing and stiffening limbs warn us to pitch our tent.
“Under ordinary circumstances this was done about 6 or 7 p.m., on a
smooth surface. A hole was quickly dug with shovels, on which the tent
was erected, and the dug-out blocks of snow laid round it for safety
against the storm, and the sledge placed as a shield to the north. The
tent was kept upright by means of four long poles, each crossed at the
top, stretched by ropes fastened to axes or piles driven into the
ground. When the sleeping-sack had been laid down in the tent, our
personal baggage settled, the kettle filled with blocks of snow by the
cook, the lamp lit, and the rations given out, our comrades, who, owing
to the increased cold since the setting of the sun, had meanwhile been
running and jumping to keep themselves warm, were allowed to enter.
“During our last half-hour’s march, each man had been busy thawing his
beard with his hands, for it had been changed into a lump of ice, so
that it might not melt whilst the cooking was going on, and so wet their
clothes and coverings. As soon as all were in their places in the tent,
the aperture was closed, and preparations made for passing the night.
“The stiff sail-cloth boots, fast frozen to the stockings which were to
form our pillows, were thawed between the hands, and with difficulty
taken off; the stockings, thick with rimy snow, were scraped, then wrung
and laid upon the breast, to dry by our only available means—our bodily
heat—so as to prepare them for the following day’s work.
“At last all have wriggled themselves into the sleeping−sack, each one
lying partly on his neighbour, and in this modest space waiting for the
evening meal.
“The first hour is spent in melting the snow, the second in preparing
the meal, which is devoured eagerly, and as cool as possible. The
development of steam during the cooking (which in the very cold weather
consumed one bottle of spirit, or 1 lb.) put us into such a vapour-bath
that we could not even see our next neighbour; the tent walls were
completely wet through; and the temperature rose rapidly. The dampness
of the coverings and clothes, from the condensation of the steam on the
rime, of course increased, and the opening of the tent door occasioned a
fall of snow within, so that by the time the cooking was over, all was
covered with a thick coating of ice or crust of snow.
“It is about eight or nine o’clock: the small rations of boiled beef,
soup, and vegetables are no longer enough to allay the daily increasing
hunger; but sleep buries that, as well as our burning thirst, in
oblivion. Only occasionally did our sparing supply of spirits allow us
to prepare an extra quantity of water.
“During the march each one carried an india-rubber or tin bottle full of
snow, on his bare body, turned as much as possible to the sun, and often
after many hours only a few spare spoonfuls (and sometimes nothing)
could be obtained from it.
“Last of all, the cook, after cleaning out the kettle, also fights his
way into the sleeping-sack, which thus attains its proper complement. A
side position is the only one possible—to-night all lie to the left,
to-morrow all to the right. Comfortable positions, such as stretching on
one’s back for example, meet with a miserable protest, as well as any
other after-movement; and when at length silence falls upon all, the
eight men form one single lump.
“The nose acts no longer merely as a condenser, as on the spring
journey; it now becomes a cold-pole, and leaving it outside the rimy and
icy covering is preferable to burying it in the questionable atmosphere
of the sack. The mouth, as the only outlet of exhalation, must remain
open, but the teeth get so cold that they feel like icicles, and the
mask, which it is necessary to wear in the night, freezes to the long
beard.
“Happy were those who, during the lowest temperature within the first
fourteen days of our journey, could really lose themselves during the
hours of rest, if only for a short time, for they were generally passed
in a painful waiting for a happy release, by—dragging!
“This general wakefulness made it unnecessary to set a special watch for
bears and foxes, which occasionally made a bold raid upon the stores in
the sledge, for they had never yet succeeded in approaching us quite
noiselessly.
“In spite of all efforts to the contrary, the cutting cold too soon
penetrated the sleeping-sack; within the tent the temperature sinks from
60° or 65° to below zero, and the body has to be again refreshed with
artificial warmth, by motion and hot food.
“The natural consequences of this state of temperature is a continually
increasing sensation of freezing until the morning. During the day the
sack has got thoroughly cold on the sledge, and must again be warmed by
bodily heat, being frozen into thick folds as hard as iron. Whoever lies
upon these seems to be lying on laths, which towards morning begin to
lose their sharpness. One or the other, we keep a bottle of snow about
us. All are shivering, scarcely any sleep. For hours together we are in
a state of suffocation, the pressure on either side causing a feeling as
though the collar-bone was being forced into the chest and the shoulders
crushed. Each lies upon his arm (which of course goes to sleep), and is
often prevented from breathing by the smell of train-oil proceeding from
his neighbour’s seal-skin. The breath condenses over the face and upon
the sloping tent-side, in long snow-webs, which fall at the slightest
movement.
“The misery of tent-life reaches its maximum during an uninterrupted
snowstorm of sometimes three days’ duration. So long as this assumes the
form of a hurricane, no one can leave the tent without danger of either
being suffocated or blown away. These Greenland snowstorms, which carry
small stones with them, greatly resemble West Indian hurricanes, only
that the sun is completely darkened by the rush of snow.
“Of course our tents would soon have been blown over, if some
precautions had not been taken. Great distress reigned within. The wind
greatly lessened the already small space by pressing in the walls.
Through the canvas, through every stitch or smallest opening, spurts a
small flood of the finest snow, like flour out of a flour-mill, or
collects itself on the inner surface, where its ever-increasing weight
at length brings it down like small avalanches. As long as the storm
rages the cold is alleviated from the equalisation of warm air over the
sea, though it seldom allows any heat to remain in the tent, so that we
were still in a cold of from 14° to 5° F.
“By degrees a covering of snow at least an inch thick lies on the sack,
under which we must patiently wait till the storm ceases. We scrape it
away with the knife, but it soon returns again. On some occasions this
snow began to melt, and penetrate the clothes, making us look like seals
coming up out of the water.
“In a steadily rising temperature, too, the snow on which we lay would
melt, and the sack get wet underneath, not to dry again till the summer,
but freeze on the sledge in those hard folds we dreaded so much. We
repeatedly felt the want of india-rubber coverings.
“This state of things often lasted from two to three days, and we waited
with an indifference bordering on stupidity, sitting squeezed, with
numbed hands, mending the gloves or stockings, almost freezing, masked;
beards full of ice, stuffed up with a chaos of frozen clothes and boots,
and, worst of all, fasting. The duration of the journey, as well as the
extent of country to be explored, depended upon the use of the
provisions. If, therefore, some part of the time was lost through
storms, this loss, in spite of hunger, thirst, and loss of strength,
could only be regained by reduced rations, which often only consisted of
a thin soup.
“The saucepan has become leaky, a small sea has formed on the sack, the
spirit-lamp runs, and repeatedly threatens to destroy the tent by fire,
which, during the storm, would be the work of a moment. The cook
grumbles, burns his fingers to-day which were frozen yesterday;—urged
on by hunger, his cooking is subject to sharp criticism, as each is
waiting for the eventful moment when the meal shall be ready.
“All food was frozen—even brandy began to freeze one night—meat in the
tins or ham had to be chopped with the axe; butter could, without any
fear, be carried in the waistcoat-pocket, to be enjoyed on the march.
“Woe to the unfortunate man who, in a lull of the storm, goes into the
open air. He is almost torn to pieces, stifled by the snow-filled air,
betrayed into snow-drifts, and yet not daring to open his eyes. Numbed
with cold, white as a miller, he returns to the tent. Here he is a
subject of horror to his neighbours in the sack, whom he intends robbing
of their warmth to thaw himself. The snow-powder blown in upon the
opening of the tent door has penetrated through all the clothes, and the
skin has to be scraped and any frost-bites that may have set in have to
be dispersed by rubbing. Indeed, the disturbance and excitement
consequent upon a walk in the open air does not subside for some hours.
“But the snow-blind suffer the most from such a state of things. Out of
consideration to them, smoking was dropped.
“The irritation caused by the white snowflakes, which with us are easily
beaten aside, cause great suffering in Greenland, from the inflamed
state of the eyes and the thick heavy atmosphere, to those who may have
been unfortunate enough to break their snow-spectacles.
“Beating them off while on the march is impossible, for the damp cloth
freezes at once to a lump of ice, making the eyes insupportably cold.
The simple bandage, on the other hand, does not save one from the steady
burning pain, which acts like needle-pricks. Opening the eye for a
moment is not to be thought of. The blind are obliged to pull with the
others, as the laden sledge cannot be moved but by our united strength.
“As a rule, we break up about 5 a.m. The thin black coffee is taken with
some ice-cold bread-dust, which effectually destroys all its warming
properties, mixed into it like a mash, and then follows laborious
packing up of the clothes, in order to be prepared for all weathers. The
frozen boots must first be thawed with the hands, and the folds taken
out, the tent freed from snow, and beaten until pliable. The
sleeping-sack receives the same treatment, which, as a sign of our
disgust and its daily increasing weight from the ice, we named ‘the
Walrus.’
“The soaked seal-skin clothing freezes at once in the air, and damp
condenses on the hair in frost-blossoms. One or the other rubs his face
with scraped snow to refresh his eyes—a novel kind of washing, in
default of water, though with the slightest breath of wind his hands are
in danger of freezing. After every snowstorm, tent and sledge have to be
dug out, and the contents cleaned with difficulty.
“All this business occupies about two hours, when the traces are taken
up with great satisfaction, as a long-looked-for release from the pain
of the nightly couch. The sledge is loosened from its frozen position,
and the journey continued, which, after twenty-three days, brought us to
77° of latitude, the most northerly point ever reached on the east coast
of Greenland.”
The coast along which this sledge-journey was made was found to be much
broken up, and the opinion was formed that the land might possibly
resolve itself into a group of islands.
The ice having broken up, the _Germania_ left its winter harbour on 22nd
July, and steamed northwards. In 75° 29′ it was stopped by ice, and had
to return to the south. Kaiser Franz-Joseph’s Fjord was afterwards
explored; and on the 17th of August the return home to Germany was
begun. By the 25th of August they were clear of the ice.
“On the 10th of September we were a few miles from Heligoland. A heavy
storm blew from the south-west, but in the evening shifted to the
north-west, enabling us to run in to shore. At daybreak, though we had
seen no pilot, we recognised Langerooge, and steered along the Southwall
to the mouth of the Weser. No sign of a ship! The Weser seemed to have
died out. Where are the pilots hidden? Are they lying _perdu_ on account
of yesterday’s storm? Well, then, we must run into the Weser without
them; the wind is favourable, the weather clear, the outer buoy will be
easy to find; there is the church-tower of Wangerooge. Suspecting
nothing, we steered on; the tower bears S.S.W., south-west by south,
south-west, but no buoy in sight. The captain and steersman look at each
other in astonishment. Can we have been so mistaken and out of our
reckoning? But no! That is certainly Wangerooge; the depth of water
agrees, our compass is correct. No doubt about it, we are in the Weser;
something unusual must have happened! Still no sail in sight! But what
is that? Yonder are the roads. There are several large vessels under
steam; they at least can give us some information. So we make for them.
We saluted the German flag, and soon the cry was heard, ‘War, war with
France; Napoleon is prisoner! France has declared a Republic; our armies
are before Paris!’ And then, ‘_Hansa_ destroyed in the ice, crew
saved.’”