Chapter X

LONG SLEDGE JOURNEY ALONG THE COAST NORTHWARDS--DISCOVERY
OF KING WILLIAM’S ISLAND--MARCH 8TH TO APRIL
27TH, 1870.[64]

Object and result of these sledge journeys.--Equipment and
clothing.--Tent.--Departure.--Provisions.--Discipline on the
march.--Hardships.--Refraction.--Parhelia.--Difficulties of
sledge-dragging.--Tent-pitching.--Snow-blindness.--Return
to the ship.--Second start.--Return of the companion
sledge.--Hochstetter’s Foreland.--Geological excursion.--Cape
Oswald Heer.--Ascent of the Haystack.--Bear-hunting.--Reaching
of 76° N. Lat--Cape Carl Ritter.--Remains of Esquimaux
summer-huts.--Cape Peschel.--Roon Bay.--Icebergs.--The Devil’s
Cape.--Parhelia in Roon Bay.--Desert of snow.--Eastern
Island.--Dove Bay.--Mountain-chain and glaciers on the
west of it.--Erratic blocks on Eastern Island.--Cape
Heligoland.--Storm Bay.--Passion-week.--Violent storm.--77°
N. Lat. passed.--Virgin soil.--Erection of a cairn on
the northernmost point reached.--Depositing a document
therein.--Want of necessaries.--Want remedied by killing two
musk-oxen.--Snow-storm.--The midnight sun.--Difficulties of
Arctic sledge journeys.--Geological formation of the Island at
Cape Peschel.--Peter Ellinger taken ill.--Payer and Ellinger
on forwards.--First salutation of spring.--Return to the
ship.--Results of the journey.

Sledge journeys, particularly in spring-time, are attended by great expenditure of strength and troubles of all kinds. A day’s progress by ship would take a week in a sledge; indeed, sometimes with almost superhuman strength, not more than a few hundred paces can be made in a day.

Such journeys must also always be made on the frozen sea or on the Fjords. Overland sledge journeys are impossible in East Greenland, on account of the unevenness of the ground and the insufficiency of snow. The most favourable time is the autumn. In winter, the long Arctic night effectually frustrates every excursion. In spring they are made more difficult by the intensity of the cold, and for at least three parts of the time by terrific snow-storms, and in the beginning of summer the changing of the snow into water, or snow-bog.

For nine months and a half our ship, surrounded and fast bound by the ice, was the only place of refuge for such expeditions, during which we could not rely upon any means of subsistence from land, but only on the chance good fortune of the hunt. Everything had therefore to be taken with us; and the heavily-laden sledge was indeed the ship of the desert, the loss of which would carry all with it. The quantity of provisions to be taken also set a limit upon our excursions, as well as the knowledge that each man, even under favourable circumstances, could only carry two hundred weight.

The north-east coast of Greenland is so completely uninhabited, that it was impossible to obtain dog-sledges; so we had to drag them ourselves, which we did on five journeys which occupied three months, and in which we traversed nearly a thousand nautical miles. Clothing and outfit also requires great care, as on these expeditions the explorer has for weeks together to brave a temperature sometimes below -24° Fahr. Snow-hoods, masks, coats of sealskin, boots of sail-cloth (leathern boots are not pliable, and crack in the frost) lined with flannel, stockings soled with flannel, were prepared, and every precaution taken.

Each man had two woollen shirts (the under one having a piece of skin with the hair inside sewn to it), trousers lined with fur, a thick vest with sleeves, two pairs of woollen drawers, three pairs of warm stockings, a water-tight sealskin coat--the hair outside, and by many drawn over the head, with only the hole at the throat, to keep out the wind and cold. Besides this, each wore a knitted hood, fitting close, to which was fastened the flannel mask, with small openings for the eyes and mouth, and the nose protected; over this a large fur hood, only showing a small portion of the face; a pair of knitted woollen gloves, inside of which were fur gloves; and, lastly, a shawl--all this as protection against the cold.

The clothing is provided with large sail-cloth pockets, the one in the coat being always filled with cartridges. Snow spectacles were worn on the march, those of a smoky grey colour being the best.[65] Our tent was of light sail-cloth, the weight of which we had brought down to forty pounds, and was quite filled with the general sleeping-sack of sheepskin. For preparing our meals we had a cooking apparatus and a saucepan, with sixty bottles of spirit as fuel,--wood or coal being too heavy.

The necessary quantity of provisions for each week was divided into sacks, each containing coffee, chocolate, boiled beef, ham, butter, suet, salt, dry black bread, pemmican extract of meat, beans, lentils, peas, barley, flour mixed with melted butter, and twenty bottles of brandy. The pulse was cooked on board, left on deck to freeze, then chopped in pieces, and thrown into the sack. Our medicine-chest only provided for three diseases, frost-bite, dysentery, and bad eyes; five pounds of private luggage were allowed for each man, and the three guns, with 200 cartridges, formed what may be termed the dead weight.

Well, it is the 8th of March. Some days before we had made a trial trip, and it had proved most satisfactory; there seemed no prospect of change in the temperature, which was the lowest we ever observed in East Greenland, being 24° to 35.50° Fahr. below zero, and, still less hope of the cessation of those time-thieving, indescribably dreadful snow-storms. But time is too precious; we have already ten hours’ daylight; the sledge is packed, and we begin the journey.

The weather is lovely. A moderate wind blows from the north over the hard snowy covering, along which the sledge glides, now with hoarse and now with ringing tones. At the next rocky projection, beyond which the ship can no longer be seen, our companions, who have given us the customary escort, return; and we continue our journey alone.

The eye soon gets weary of the brightness of the white surface and the uniformity of the landscape. Chains of mountains, stretching along the coast from ten to fifteen nautical miles off, are seen day after day. From insignificant elevations there rise, in the course of a few hours, over the endless snowy surface, stately icebergs, behind which huge snow-drifts have accumulated. A short stay in the dry cold air causes a painful dryness in the larynx and mouth, whilst the very cold but slightly damp air is exhaled with perfect comfort.

It is very difficult to keep a straight course when the snowy surface is covered with a peculiar layer of low fog, which, however, seldom happens in the spring, as in a violent fall of snow nothing can be done but by the compass, and this tiring way of proceeding can often only be employed when an iceberg is for a moment visible, as offering a direct object of sight.

The great inequality in the warmth of the atmosphere, or unequal thickness of the atmospheric layers above the ice, produces the strangest distortions of the land, by means of refraction, causing objects still below the horizon to be distinctly seen.

During our voyage in the pack-ice in 1869, we saw some most astonishing phenomena--column-shaped groups of ice towering aloft, often resembling the ruins of a town; basins of water shut in by the ice, all of which were below the edge of the horizon; and once a vessel, which seemed to stand as four, one above another.

Still more interesting is the effect upon a land picture. Now appears a high, remote island, without any disfiguration of its contour, apparently set up on a plinth at least 900 feet high; or a completely dome-shaped mountain is turned into a square, the outlines of the ridge assuming a dreadfully wild character, every top threatening to fall over; or the distorted picture acquires a rapid motion, growing as high again; or creating the delusive picture of a land which certainly existed, but not where we expected to find it (_Fata Morgana_). Thus, in Lat. 77° we for a whole day were advancing to a land, the individual features of which--such as snow-furrows and rocks--were incontestably seen by all; but upon leaving our tents in the evening it had all disappeared.

Nearly resembling this, in a physical point of view, we frequently observed, during our spring sledge-journey, parhelia, or mock suns, caused by the refraction of the sun’s light by the ice-crystals floating in the upper strata of air. These mock suns sometimes form a double circle round the sun, with a coloured bow beyond, and horizontal stripes of light emanating from the sun itself. The inner part of this bow is always red, the outer shading off into pale green and a very light sky-blue. The first circle is bright yellow within; the second of a yellowish grey. This phenomenon only takes place in a yellow, vapourish atmosphere, with horizontal strata, and a somewhat cloudy sky.

It was, however, too dangerous to give our undivided attention to this wonderful phenomenon of nature to the neglect of all surrounding objects; for, though these appearances are frequent, bears are more frequent still. Indeed, bear-hunting took its turn in our hunting-roll, and some of us more than once narrowly escaped being torn to pieces.

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 sealskin clothing; the penetrating icy wind was felt at every stitch, the arms hung down like lead, deadly cold, and no one dared to walk without a mask. If the wind rose still more, curtains of penetrating snow-crystals rose with it from the ground; then a snow-storm, 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 six or seven p.m., on a smooth surface. A hole was quickly dug with shovels, on which the tent was erected, and the dugout 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, which had been 35° Fahr., rose to 36°. 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 sealskin. 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 snow-storm 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 snow-storms, 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 equalization 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° Fahr.

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 snow-flakes, which with us are easily beaten aside, causes 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 five a.m. The thin black coffee is taken with some ice-cold bread dust,[66] 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 sealskin 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 snow-storm, tent and sledge has 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 Lat., the most northerly point ever reached on the east coast of Greenland.

But we will now give an account of this expedition. It ought really to have begun on the 7th of March; but an accident happened to one of our comrades, who, on the evening of the 6th, had been attacked in the darkness by a bear, and severely injured. This occasioned some delay, and we started on the morning of the 8th of March.

We had two sledges and ten men. The smaller of the two was harnessed to four men, and was to accompany us for a week, providing us with food, and after laying a depôt on the east coast of Hochstetter’s Promontory, was to return to the ship.

We judged that our journey would last fifty or sixty days. The first day our advance was rendered so difficult by the hard, rough, sharp-edged snow-drifts, that we could only get the sledges along half laden, thus having to go over the road three times, and we only reached the north end of Sabine Island.

The next day, finding the obstacles insurmountable, we thought to better ourselves by enlarging the tent, in spite of the fearful cold on the open field, and taking eight men with us instead of six, the other two returning to the ship; but even up to the 10th of March no change for the better set in.

Only with great trouble and in constant danger of destruction could we get the sledge over the masses of snow: signs of a heavy storm were also visible; so, not to expend our time and strength in vain, we determined to return to the ship, and await a more favourable opportunity for our undertaking. Upon reaching it, we saw a hunter chasing a bear, which, with the agility of a cat, was climbing the slopes of Germania mountain. He and his companion had besieged the ship for some time.

On the 12th of March we fetched back the sledge from the north end of Sabine Island, and on this occasion erected a provision depôt. The dreadful snow-storm of the next few days made us bewail the loss of time, but showed us how fruitless the continuation of our journey would have been.

At last, on the 24th of March, circumstances had, we thought, taken a more favourable turn; so we left the vessel at nine a.m. for the second time. Six men--Ellinger, Herzberg, Mieders, Klentzer, Wagner, the carpenter, and our commander, Koldewey, and Payer--dragged the large one; four men--Sengstacke, Krauschner, Iversen, and the boatswain--managed the convoy. As before, we realized the mildness of the temperature in the harbour compared with the snowy waste to the north of Sabine Island.

The whole of Sengstacke’s right foot was frost-bitten the first day, and rubbing with snow during the whole of the night was of no use; so the convoy sledge had to return the following day, which was a great loss for us. We increased our store of provisions by taking that from the other sledge, and continued our journey; but on the 27th of March a snow-storm kept us in the tent, and on the afternoon of the 28th the sledge broke down one of the curved irons which supported it. With much trouble this was repaired, but the violence of the storm raging on the 29th and 30th prevented us from leaving the tent.

On the 31st of March, after a night of torment, we pulled through the straits between Shannon Island (from which a herd of musk oxen watched us with astonishment) and Hochstetter’s Promontory. Upon reaching a large iceberg to the south-east of the latter, we took advantage of the sunny weather to shake out our ice-encumbered sleeping-sack. Unfortunately this brought no relief for the next night, as the low temperature robbed every one of sleep. The coast-edge of Hochstetter’s Promontory (stretching direct north and south), we passed near enough to allow of a fruitless raid upon a herd of musk oxen. As soon as the hunter was within 200 steps of them, the animals formed their accustomed square, and, placing the young ones in the centre, they all take to flight, reversing these tactics whenever they are pursued. A geological excursion to the small clefts in the valley of the basin-shaped land, which rose a few hundred feet, would have been well worth the trouble. The completely horizontal strata of micaceous sandstone (containing fossil bivalves), belonging to the mesozoic[67] epoch, contained layers of lias coal, dark and sometimes syenitic gneiss, and a reddish degenerate kind of the same.

In the evening the island of Koldewey, many hundred feet high, came above the horizon, distorted by the refraction into wild forms. Against the ever-increasing wind we sought to warm ourselves by pulling hard at the sledge; but noses, feet, and hands were all endangered. The distance travelled lately amounted to from ten to fifteen English miles daily. We had gone over the north end of Shannon, and saw icebergs in increasing numbers before us.

On the 2nd of April a snow-storm again kept us in the tent. On the 3rd we reached the north end of Hochstetter’s Promontory, formed by Cape Oswald Heer, next to the most northerly boundary of the explored country in East Greenland. The peninsula of Haystack, miscalled by Clavering an island, forms this boundary with a pyramidal summit of from 600 to 700 feet high.

Near to this mountain our sledge broke down in the evening for the second time; this, however, caused no loss of time, as the ascent of Mount Haystack, a point so important for the determination of our positions, could upon no account be left undone. The mountain is, as it were, sprinkled with erratic blocks, belonging partly to a very recent formation, and, like the high ridge of the coast consists chiefly of gneiss, with alternate layers of red felspar. The scanty vegetation already showed signs of budding. From the point one perceives a large bay (Bessel Bay) to the north, with the mouth of several fjords; to the east nothing was to be seen but ice and the north end of Shannon, with its soft undulating mountains. The rosy sloping masses of Koldewey Island, in the north-east, looked in the splendour of the setting sun like fairy-land. An endless snowy waste of bluish-grey shadows lay between it and us. Half we had already traversed.

Near us rose the high, wild, Alpine front of the geologically interesting island of Kuhn; to the west lay a rough mountainous district, the interior of which had never yet been trodden by the foot of man, and in which Clavering mistakenly makes a fjord (called Roseneath Inlet) penetrate, which really never existed.

From Cape Heer to Cape Seebach (west of Haystack) ran a beautiful bay, opening to the south, which, from its position, one would be inclined to say would form a perfect harbour for the winter. But what irreparable danger we should have run if, in the previous summer, we had found this bay free from ice, and had taken possession of it, instead of that to the south of Sabine Island! Now it was blocked with ice--perhaps had been for a decade--certainly for some years. Even the deep pools south of Haystack lay upon ice several years old.

In the course of the afternoon’s march we had a bear-hunt, though an unsuccessful one. A she-bear and her two cubs--the latter very like poodles, and from their dirty yellow colour and black noses perceptible for a long distance--were making quickly towards us, but when within about 400 paces, our firing drove them back.

On the morning of the 4th of April another bear attacked us in the tent, but paid for his temerity with his life, giving us a can of fat (which served as fuel for four days) and a good deal of meat, which we immediately enjoyed raw. For the first time drowsiness overcame us all, and first one and then another closed his eyes. In the afternoon snow again drifted from the north, against which we marched for some hours, but were eventually obliged to put up the tent. This lasted to the 5th, and kept us prisoners. A sudden and unexpected increase of temperature, although only lasting some hours, made the snow melt inside our tent, placing us in a most uncomfortable state. On the 6th of April we crossed the 76° of Lat., and reached the level mountain-foot of a cape called Karl Ritter, which was bounded to the north by the beautiful bay of Bessel (named after the great German astronomer), so rich in fjords. The shore consisted of mica gneiss, alternating with amphibolite, and a very coarse-grained granite, with red orthoclase, green oligoclase, and black mica. To our great astonishment, on the south side of the cape, amongst some remains of bones of sea animals, we came upon some Esquimaux dwellings. They were summer tents, marked by a circle of stones, the hide being held down, and kept upright by a centre pole.

Our road, in the meantime, had assumed a totally different character. It consisted of lumps of ice rounded by evaporation, amongst which we lost our can of bear’s-grease. Nevertheless, the same evening we reached the southern exit of a second very large bay (Roon Bay), north of Cape Peschel, which was marked by the wildest mountain character.

The icebergs here increased everywhere both in size and numbers. They are successors of the glaciers, and are distinguished by their light green colour, their sharp, craggy formation, and more particularly the layers, which differ from the bluish and less dense ice of the sea-formed ice-floe. The appearance of these icebergs on the open sea is very irregular, as the icing of the bays stops all communication of the Fjord with the Arctic currents often for a decade of years, and the icebergs grow together with the flat ice into masses, until a steady increase of temperature and spring storms open the latter and release the former. It is also possible that the released fragments of East-Greenland glaciers may be carried to the west coast by a connexion of the different fjords and currents, or that by interior channels they arrive in Scoresby’s or Davis’ Strait.

Straight to the north of us rose an imposing wall, 3280 feet high. Its banks of gneiss, with their varied colours, sloped at an angle of 15° southwards. We named this reddish wall the “Devil’s Cape,” and were inclined to believe that behind it the Greenland coast, trending towards the north-west, was probably connected with Smith Sound.

Towards evening, in the far distance to the north, appeared fresh monstrous mountain chains, with outlying islands. We could not now tell whether we had to do with an entirely insular opening or with an enormous bay, as we were not in a position to give a decided opinion. Under such circumstances, our orders were to keep to the outer edge of the coast, from which we were already separated by the far-advancing land of Koldewey Island. So we continued our course in a north-easterly direction.

On such a voyage of discovery, it may be laid down as a useful rule to keep at least from five to ten English miles from the coast, occasionally landing to climb some high look-out. Circuitous routes are thus saved, projecting points only being touched without hugging the coast-line: wrong roads are in this way avoided; and, above all, by these means the land-survey is correctly and quickly completed.

The nearer one goes to the coast, the narrower will the horizon become, as much from cliffs as from low undulating shores.

Our new course brought us, still on the 7th of April, into a huge waste of loose snow, of ever increasing depth, which stopped our further advance. Mock suns, with double circles, which hung with wonderful effect in the afternoon over the colossal rocks of Roon Bay, warned us of the approach of unfavourable weather.

On the 8th, we continued our journey during a raging snow-storm. The “Devil’s” Cape, only one German mile distant, appeared with a faint outline, as if seen through a thick curtain. The snow, in which, in spite of the intense cold, we sank deeper and deeper, hindered us so much that, even with judicious alterations in the pulling, we were six hours making five English miles, and the slides of the sledge acted as a perfect plough. From increasing dysentery, the loss of the opium bottle was much felt.

On the night of the 8th to the 9th some foxes attacked the remains of the frozen bear’s meat on the sledge.

On the evening of the 9th, after a wearying march, we reached an island group (East Island) 650 feet high, in the middle of the large bay (Dove Bay), of which we climbed the highest summit, to inspect the nature of the land and explore our future course.

The view from the heights showed us that, besides the one entrance, there was no other means of egress to the coast but by the narrow straits to the north of Koldewey Island; but still, in another point of view, the ascent of this height was of great interest; for we found that the westerly background of Dove Bay, which is filled with numerous moderately high-lying islands, formed a high mountainous country, separated by a large Fjord, and extending for sixty miles with glaciers and mountain tops, which we estimated at 6500 feet high. From the direction of some of these fjords, we conjectured that the one at the back of Ardencaple Bay communicated with the sounds of Bessel and Dove Bays.

On all sides the chain was of wonderful beauty. Glacier cascades, more than a mile broad, fell from a snow plateau 4800 feet high, in the north-west. Icebergs of monstrous height, which on that very account we mistook for islands, were iced up in the interior of the bays.

The rocks of East Island were polished to the summit, and cast in the most picturesque forms, and often, supported only by a small stone, huge erratic blocks rested on the ridges. These blocks had evidently fallen in the place and spot, and had not rolled there. Once, perhaps, they had been borne by ice-floes, dropped to the bottom of the sea, and this, in the course of time, had risen, or else the level of the sea might have sunk. At least, this seemed the only feasible explanation of their erratic appearance on the summit itself.

Several hours’ drawing and work with the theodolite had completely numbed me by the time we left the mountain, the snowy slopes of which bore traces of bears and ptarmigan.

On the 10th of April we kept in an easterly direction, towards the north end of the most northerly of the Koldewey Islands. Violently drifting snow, with heavy atmosphere, increased snow-blindness, and drowsiness paralyzed all of us. Nearly the whole day long did we take a picture produced by the Fata Morgana for real land. Cape Heligoland, the north-west corner of the rocky island, which we reached in the evening, consists of very thin layers of hornblende-schist, with distinct traces of glacial detritus. For the first time, in spite of the lowness of the temperature, we saw the snow melt on the rocks, from the now increasing power of the sun.

On the morning of the 11th of April we had again 27° Fahr. below zero. In an almost northerly direction, and after that, by reconnoitring, we had fully convinced ourselves that any attempt to reach the outer coast edge would be attended with great loss of time, we continued our way along the inner part of Dove Bay, and reached the end of our actual sledge journey in a bay bounded by an easterly-lying plateau, 975 feet high. This we called Storm Bay, and not without a cause. The cape bounding Dove Bay, to the east, we named Cape Bismarck (76° 47′).

On the 12th we climbed to this plateau during a violent snow-storm, which effectually prevented any great geographical acquisition. Returning to the tent, a raging storm broke over us, and a fresh flood of snow fell, lasting three days. During this time we ate almost nothing, as our store of provisions threatened to disappear altogether. Scarcely ever was the fast of Passion week (14th April) more strictly observed than it was by us.

Not until the 15th could we leave the tent. The three days of inactivity had diminished our strength; faint, hungry, and thirsty, we started upon our last stretch of journey to the north, leaving the tent behind us, and taking only a covering. Want of provisions, which necessitated our returning, forbade our extending the journey further. Some musk oxen, which we came upon unexpectedly, were clever enough not to prove the range of the rifle, and out-manœuvred Ellinger, who, after making a wide circuit, thought to come close upon them. In deep snow we accomplished the thirty miles there and back to a mountain more than 1080 feet high, which rose above the plateau stretching along the coast.

We had crossed the 77th degree of latitude! Like so many of our predecessors, we, too, longed to lift the veil hanging over the whole of the Arctic world, so opposed to the mandate, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no further;” and, like so many others, found that our object gained fell far short of our bold flights of fancy; and that, resting after endless troubles at the end of our journey, we still looked in vain for the solution of the many riddles which science expected of us. The conjecture, once broached, of an open Arctic Sea, we could, from our stand-point, only reject as idle. To the furthest point of the horizon the sea was covered with a solid covering of ice, over which, had it not been for the want of provisions, we could have continued our sledge journey. The outer coast-line stretched in an almost northerly direction; to the north-west, the prospect was closed in by lofty ice-covered mountains, only a few miles distant.

The question, in which direction Greenland now extended, had thus far found no solution. The great number of inland maritime districts, the everywhere striking division of land which, in a favourable bright evening, stood out so plainly, gave room to the conjecture that the chief mass of land (if this should be a continent), probably trended off to the north-west, in 76° Lat., and that we as yet had only to do with outlying islands; this, at least, appeared as likely as a north and south continuation of the coast, as arbitrarily represented on charts for many years past.

A feeling of awe steals over the most thoughtless when his feet stands on virgin ground, and there lies before him a world on which, from the beginning of time, no European eye has ever rested.

The North-German and Austrian flags fluttered in a light north wind peaceably side by side. We erected a cairn, which will doubtless remain unmoved, though perhaps never again seen to the end of time, and placed inside it a box containing a short account of our voyage. The document ran thus: “This spot, which lies in 77° 1′ North Lat. and 18° 50′ West Long. from Greenwich, was reached by the German Arctic Expedition in sledges (the last three German miles on foot) starting from the winter harbour by Sabine Island, after an absence from the ship of twenty-two days.”

The storms, which for eight days kept us in the tent, and partly the great difficulties of the journey, as well as the want of provisions, prevented us from advancing further. The coast which falls off rugged to the east stretches into a plateau for about 1500 feet further to the north. The sea, as far as the eye could reach (about seventy-five miles) offered one continuous surface of ice. The land ice, which is perfectly free from lumps, and is and has to all appearances been fast for years, stretches at least ten miles from the coast. The weather was very clear at sea, particularly to the east, in which not a sign of water was perceptible.

Good Friday, 15th April, 1870.

Karl Koldewey, Commander of the Expedition; Julius Payer, first-lieutenant; Thomas Klentzer, Peter Ellinger, sailors. Captain Koldewey remarks: “We put up the telescope of the theodolite on a distant ice-block, and let it stand for some time, in order to prove the motion of the ice, if there was any; but the ice-block remained stationary, as we fully expected, as the heavy sea ice seemed to be closely joined to the land ice. Fully convinced that perhaps never, or at least only in very particularly favourable, years, could any ship advance along this coast, we set out on our return journey; the ice gave one the impression of a rampart built for eternity. With sledges it is possible, if the equipment is adequate, and the strength of the Expedition is concentrated upon them, to go considerably beyond 80° Lat. This is greatly facilitated by the quantity of game, by which, to a certain extent, the stock of provisions may be renewed.

We got nine shots, and at half-past three p.m. began our return to the tent.

Captain Koldewey had finished his study of the situation of the ice in the east, and Payer his work of land surveying, and had collected some mosses, lichen, saxifrage, and some specimens of granite, syenite, and hornblende-gneiss. The greater part of our return journey was made under increasing snow falls; and soon after reaching the tent, completely exhausted, the roaring north wind began, interrupted by short periods of calm, until it rose to a regular storm.

From our critical position with regard to provisions for our return journey to the ship we were in the meantime happily freed. Those who had been left behind in the tent had succeeded in killing two musk oxen, which on our return they triumphantly exhibited. Some willow, gathered under difficulties, gave us plenty of fuel--and this we might thank for enabling us to obtain water--which with the meat formed a luxurious meal. Merely the flesh was cut from the creatures, and together with the hams packed on the sledge. This, together with a bear which we killed a few days later, lasted until we reached the ship. By degrees we had accustomed ourselves to eat reindeer, walrus, seal, bear, and musk oxen raw, and indeed fresh killed, for the nourishment contained in the fresh meat overcame the disagreeable taste of train-oil, and the great decrease of our stock of spirit compelled us to do so.

Only at first did we object: tufts of hair, wool from our coverlids, with coffee, bread dust, pepper, and juniper-berries (the contents of the sacks had become partly mixed), the remains of bears’ grease, frozen butter, and the rest of the soup left at the last meal; we were only too glad to swallow all when at last necessity compelled.

The snow-storm lasted till the 16th April, and the temperature suddenly rose for a few hours to 17° Fahr., which caused the tiresome thawing of the snow in the tent. Not till five p.m., when we started, was the atmosphere still; some feet of fresh snow had fallen, and still the storm raged; the clouds lay close to the earth--only occasionally for a moment could we see the long wall of Devil’s Cape in bluish colours far to the south-west. The road back to Cape Heligoland was traversed slowly and silently. Beyond that was the large snowy waste south of Dove Bay. We waded through it during Easter time, as step by step we sank up to the thighs through the crusted surface, and in spite of the greatest exertions could only make a short day’s journey. Panting and almost bent double we tugged at the traces; with struggles the sledge followed, sinking deep into the snow-dust, almost as much swimming as gliding.

We did not now depend much upon the daylight, as the sun only remained a short time below the horizon. We slept in the day, marched during the night, and at midnight had a short rest in the tent, rendered very painful by the frost.

Shortly after midnight the sun rose blood-red above the faint violet silhouette of the mountain ridge of the most northerly discovered land (King William’s Land), and brightly shone the rocky front of Cape Peschel towering in the waste. Radiant lay the endless snow-fields in a yellowish rosy shimmer, over which the wind rolls thick veils of snow, resembling in effect of colour, from the illumination of the low-lying sun, an undulating flow of molten steel,[68] driving away over the diamond-sparkling road, and the long bluish shadows of the men breaking through the snowy masses as they knocked against each other in their violent and unequal motion, a spectacle and a work for the cursed, which Dante might have held up to the coryphees of his infernal regions.

During the short rests on our return journey we employed ourselves by splitting the frozen flesh into strips--as hard as oak--to put into the kettle with the soup or coffee, that we might the better enjoy it.

Only by enduring the extremes of hunger and thirst, and enjoying the smallest possible quantity of sleep, is the Arctic traveller enabled to reach high latitudes. After a few weeks his strength greatly decreases, his rations steadily lessen, the baggage he has to draw seems to increase, the nightly chills, the disturbed digestion from insufficient nourishment, the cold, and so on, lead to depression or sickness, particularly to dysentery. The tongue is often covered with blisters from taking the food boiling hot. The constant change from wet to frost leads to wounds in the limbs, to the utter rotting and destruction of clothes, as well as to other internal evils, at last we went about in little else than torn stockings. Upon leaving the tent after several days’ snow-storm one felt all the feebleness of convalescence. With gnawing hunger drowsiness was combined, which so overcame some of our party that they dragged with closed eyes, only half awake, and between the short pauses sank at once to sleep. Of course they had to be awakened immediately.

As we struck our tent at six a.m. on the 17th of April, the light-lying snow was four feet deep. On the 18th the cold again reached 13° Fahr., the daily distance made under the greatest exertions attendant upon great exhaustion, was but a few nautical miles. For hours together icebergs already passed seemed unchanged in point of distance. Not until the 19th did our road improve, when we slept better than we had done for a long time. One single sunny morning with moderate cold, how it raised the spirits and quieted the nerves!

Everywhere from the direction of the snow-drifts could we tell the local change of the prevailing wind. On the 20th, south of Devil’s Cape, we killed a bear which was on the point of attacking us in the tent; its fat freed us for some time (from the increasing want of fuel to melt the snow) from the fatiguing and precarious task of willow-seeking on the neighbouring coast, as well as from the further destruction of our sledge which had already been stripped of every available piece of wood.

A short visit to Peschel Island, which lies over against the cape of the same name, during the journey of the 21st, convinced me once more of the great identity of the geological structure with the old crystal line formation belonging to the East Greenland coast. The island consisted of alternate strata of amphibolite and gneiss. Everywhere were to be seen large blocks of thirty-three cubic feet of hornblende-rock, and glacial detritus, which attained a maximum elevation of 229 feet.

On the 22nd a bear attacked us while dragging, and was killed. A piece of his skin was taken with us and the head laid with the remainder. We then had to put up with drifting snow exactly resembling a storm, though it did not prevent us from advancing, as we had the wind at our backs and had made a sail of the empty sacks, which greatly lightened our load; indeed, so much so for some distance, that the sledge ran with but very moderate pulling. During such snow-drifting it often happened that we had not the slightest idea where the land lay.

The snow-drifting lasted through the 23rd, its numbing influence being increased by some hours’ unsheltered stay on the peninsula of Haystack, where we tried in vain to sever the head of a bear, killed some time before, to take with us.

A troop of foxes, which for weeks had been gnawing at the frozen flesh, would scarcely be driven away, and then were constantly returning.

The temperature of the last few days had risen to 3° Fahr.; but on the 24th and 25th April it fell again to -13°.

One of the sailors, a Frankfort man, Peter Ellinger (called Hans), the heartiest companion and the most difficult to replace, had greatly suffered[69] from excessive exertion and the frost; and as a great deal depended upon his being with us in the expedition for exploring the great Fjords to the north-west of Ardencaple Bay in the next sledge journey (which we were to begin after eight days’ rest, and which would last for four weeks), Payer and he left the sledge, in order to reach the ship and the doctor as soon as possible.

On the 26th they helped to drag the sledge from twelve p.m. to half-past eight a.m., when they started alone with some provisions and melted water, which however soon froze on their bodies, across the snow-fields to the south, the sledge following slowly. The snow soon began to lose its hardness, and the nearer we came to land the looser and deeper it became from the drifts. The sight of the well-known walls and capes which had become our home, gave to our wishes and hopes a quiet security.

But our quarter-master had not accomplished the day’s march of forty miles to the rocky coast of Sabine Island, on the south-east shore of which the winter harbour lay, when the dreaded signs of a storm arose. The curtains of snow began to rise from the ground, causing them to regret the furs they had left behind; and as they could neither reach the sledge nor the ship in time, they were placed in a somewhat serious predicament.

However the storm subsided, the sun came out and shone brightly over the land as we set foot on the shore of the island, whilst the softening of the snow compelled us to raise the tent earlier than usual, and to take our last disposable meal. We slept at the foot of a cliff in Clavering Straits. Ellinger laid down on the rugged edge of the coast, and Payer sat beside to watch, the gun lying cocked by his side.

With what delight could one enjoy the bright sunshine in this wild scenery. The strand ice began to whisper and to crack with the tide--the recollection of awakening spring at home lay alluringly near. Hans slept softly: it was a pity to have to wake him in a few minutes, which we must do for fear he should freeze.

Then a bird’s note sounded from the walls above, the first greeting of the awakening spring! After Payer had also rested, the journey was continued, avoiding the long road along the shore; and, though in stockings, they had to traverse sharp rocky slopes, blocks, and lumps of snow over high chains of mountains; and from the summit of the last they looked down upon the winter harbour.

There lay the ship still surrounded with ice. The coast-land, which we had left in its winter dress, had again donned its characteristic brown, and looked quite strange.

Payer and Ellinger descended from the mountain. Full of joyful expectation did they approach the ship, which struck them (as it did us afterwards) as being wonderfully large and stately. It was midnight when the travellers reached it, after a march of twenty-one hours and a half. A black face looked up astonished from the engine-room. It was that of the engineer Krauschner, who was busily cleaning all up for the summer cruise. The unusual footsteps on deck called Copeland, Börgen, and Pansch up armed, and the meeting was attended with as much excitement as if they had been separated for years.

At Captain Koldewey’s desire, Sengstacke immediately came back to meet us with provisions, and on the following day (27th April) we all reached the ship together.

After such an expedition there is great danger in entering suddenly under a warm roof. Upon reaching the cabin, the blood rushed immediately to the surface.

What a wonder the ship seemed to us! A cabin--which had now been turned into a carpenter’s shop--in which one could stand upright; boxes on which we could sit. Here, after five weeks, we could once more undress ourselves; here a berth, with mattress and coverings, invited us instead of the sleeping-sack.

Our exceptional circumstances caused the cook to wink at the consumption of his melted snow-water, to which we applied ourselves unmolested: to satisfy ourselves was really hard work. For four hours we ate, without intermission, of everything that came in our way: large pieces of roasted bears’ flesh (they had been visited by bears in our absence, and had killed some), bacon, vegetables, ship’s biscuit, bread, butter, cheese, wine, chocolate, black coffee, and so on.

The change to rest was with some the beginning or the climax of ailing symptoms, such as relaxation, rheumatic affections, cramp, dysentery, and gastric ailments. But we were not allowed much time for repose, for a few days after we started to explore Ardencaple Inlet.

This account of one of our five sledge journeys, which occupied three months on the whole, will naturally raise the question whether, after all these privations, science was in any way the gainer? Such was the case. The discovery of a land stretching over several degrees of latitude and longitude; the reaching the most northerly point ever yet trodden in East Greenland; the conviction that the land was wonderfully broken up and might possibly resolve itself into a group of islands; the certainty from our geodetical work that a future measurement of degrees would meet with no hindrance from climate, configuration of ground, or atmospheric condition; the enriching of the geological knowledge of our terrestrial globe; the confirmation of the conjecture that the most recent geological formations were certainly not wanting in the far north (as people were at one time inclined to believe); the discovery of enormous glaciers, the surroundings of which perfectly agreed with Peschel’s theory of the origin of fjords; the proof that the Esquimaux must long since have deserted the north-east coast,[70] and that the land is completely uninhabited; observations upon the diffusion of certain plants and animals; upon the almost exclusive dominions of the north wind; and lastly, the experience that the navigability of the so-called coast water suffers great interruption from the ice masses in the Arctic current, amongst the local islands,--surely these may be considered as somewhat valuable results.

The following Table gives, the observations of temperature during Captain Koldewey’s journey as compared with those taken at the same time at the winter quarters on Sabine Island. The readings took place from a thermometer agreeing with the standard instrument on board, and noting the time at three and four periods during the day, from which the simple mean was taken. For Sabine Island the daily mean was reckoned from the same hours.

LONG SLEDGE JOURNEY NORTHWARDS. DISCOVERY OF KING WILLIAM’S
ISLAND.

----------+---------+-------------------------+-----------+
| Date. |Latitude.|Mean Daily Temperature[71]| Excess of |
| | | | |Temperature|
| | |on Journey.| on Sabine | on Sabine |
| | | | Island. | Island. |
----------+---------+-----------+-------------+-----------+
||March 24| | -15°.25 | -2°.65 | 12°.6 |
| „ 25| 74° 47′| -26°.05 | -11°.87 | 15°.18 |
| „ 26| 56′| -24°.47 | -19°.07 | 5°.4 |
| „ 27| | -9°.62 | -5°.57 | 4°.05 |
| „ 28| 75° 8′| -12°.1 | -7°.15 | 5°.95 |
| „ 29| 11′| -4°. | -4°.67 | -0°.67 |
| „ 30| 11′| -1°.52 | -3°.1 | -1°.58 |
| „ 31| 14′| -15°.7 | -7°.37 | 8°.33 |
|April 1| 25′| -21°.77 | -15°.02 | 6°.65 |
| „ 2| | -2°.2 | -3°.55 | -1°.53 |
| „ 3| 75° 37′| -12°.77 | -0°.17 | 12°.65 |
| „ 4| 49′| -7°.6 | -3°.77 | 3°.83 |
| „ 5| | 13°.55 | 6°.35 | -7°.2 |
| „ 6| 76° 6′| 9°.95 | 10°.62 | 0°.67 |
| „ 7| 20′| -3°.77 | 4°.1 | 7°.87 |
| „ 8| 32′| -13°.45 | 2°.75 | 10°.70 |
| „ 9| 38′| -10°.52 | -4°.45 | 6°.07 |
| „ 10| 42′| -9°.62 | -3°.55 | 6°.07 |
| „ 11| 50′| -21°.77 | -14°.12 | 7°.65 |
| „ 12| 50′| -11°.65 | -9°.85 | 1°.80 |
| „ 13| | 1°.3 | 0°.72 | 0°.57 |
| „ 14| | 7°.02 | 8°.82 | 1°.8 |
| „ 15| 77° 0′| 2°.3 | 7°.25 | 4°.95 |
| „ 16| | 8°.15 | 8°.15 | 0°.0 |
| „ 17| | 8°.15 | 7°.25 | -0°.90 |
| „ 18| | -13°.0 | 0°.95 | 11°.05 |
| „ 19| 76° 33′| 3°.2 | 7°.7 | 4°.5 |
| „ 20| 20′| 4°.77 | 9°.72 | 4°.95 |
| „ 21| 6′| 7°.2 | 15°.12 | 7°.92 |
| „ 22| 75° 48′| 0°.5 | 1°.62 | 1°.12 |
| „ 23| 24′| -4°.22 | 1°.85 | 6°.07 |
----------+---------+-----------+-------------+-----------+
|Mean temperatures | -5°.80 | -0°.85 | 4°.95 |
----------+---------+-----------+-------------+-----------+

[71] In degrees of Fahrenheit reduced from Reaumur’s Scale. (_Tr._)

The mean temperature on the sledge journey was therefore 4·95 degrees lower than it was at the same time at Sabine Island. Hence we concluded that the temperature decreases towards the north, although the protected position of the winter harbour was partly the cause of its greater warmth.