Chapter III

TO THE SEPARATION OF THE SHIPS ON THE 20TH JULY.

The ice in the Arctic Ocean, particularly off East
Greenland.--The border of the ice reached on the 15th of
July.--Further voyage of the Germania.--Position and nature of
the ice.--Arctic birds.--Meeting of the vessels once more.

The Polar circle is termed the boundary of the Arctic or Northern Icy Sea. For that term there is a physical reason, as at every spot within this circle the sun does not rise in winter for a certain number of days together, and its influence being thus so circumscribed, the “everlasting” ice is enabled to form. But the Polar circle is the boundary also in a geographical point of view, as it cuts directly through Behring’s Straits, and the narrowest part of Davis’s Straits, besides stretching over both the old and the new worlds, so that the whole of the enclosed (so-called) Polar basin is contained within it. This has but one broad approach, and that lies between Scandinavia and Greenland. Here the Polar circle is least satisfactory as a boundary; for here, as in every case in which the shackles of art are imposed upon nature, the arbitrary line is overstepped by the irregularities of nature, and nowhere more so than in the present case. From the west coast of Norway to far beyond the North Cape rush the waves of the Atlantic, which are never covered with ice; while on the east coast of Greenland, down to its most southerly point, presses from one year’s end to another a powerful mass of heavy ice. The boundary of the icy sea (as a sea covered with ice) may now upon the whole be settled by a line drawn from Cape Farewell to Iceland, from thence to Spitzbergen, and lastly to Nova Zembla. The cause of this appearance lies really in the existence of two important sea-currents. From the coast of Norway up to Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla stretches the north-easterly branch of the Gulf Stream, driving back all floating ice, and from the comparative warmth of its waters conducing to the melting of the same all along the ice boundary.

On the other hand, on the east coast of Greenland runs the Polar current in a south-westerly direction to a great distance, carrying with it the heavy ice formed in the extreme north, and picking up on its way all the younger ice frozen during the winter; while, from the coldness of its waters, it prevents the melting of the same in a remarkable degree. Thus it is explained how from Davis’ Straits also must flow towards the south just such another cold, ice-burdened stream, and how on the voyage from Germany to New York are often seen one or more drifting pieces of ice, or even icebergs. This Greenland ice-current forms the main outlet for the removal of the Polar ice, and we may very reasonably liken it to a floating glacier whose farthest domain is the Polar basin.

Upon the nature of the ice in this Polar current, the following preliminary remarks may throw some light. At the beginning of the current, in the same latitude as Spitzbergen, and much nearer to the coast, as far down as Iceland, the largest fields of ice are to be found; tracts of enormous extent and sometimes more than fifty feet in thickness. Between these, and originating from them in the course of time, by their breaking up, are smaller fields called ice-floes; and these, increased by thawing, by the surrounding driving and pressing, as well as by the waves, break up in small pieces, the real hummocks which prevail at the eastern boundary of the current, at the “ice-line,” as well as at the most southerly end. As a last remains of the disturbing process, huge hummocks float about, or cover the broken ice or the wide expanse of sea with small brashes. Real icebergs seem almost peculiar to the southern part of the coasts; such an iceberg is not formed in the sea, but is a broken piece of glacier moving with its lower part in the sea, and from which at different times large pieces have been broken off by the pressure of the water, and carried onward by the current.

The breadth of this ice-current, and also the position of the ice-line is, as may be imagined, very different at different times of the year. Whilst in spring-time it runs about the middle of Iceland past Jan Mayen to the southern point of Spitzbergen, in summer it retreats nearer to the coast, and stretches somewhat in the direction of the west-end of Iceland to the north of Spitzbergen. Some pieces of ice, under peculiar circumstances, naturally float very far from this boundary towards the south-east; sometimes even reaching the Faroes.

But even at corresponding times of the year, the ice-line may occupy very different positions; much depending upon the compactness of the labyrinth of fields, floes, and drifts, and also of the prevailing winds.

As all ice rises out of the water, and from its irregular form offers to the wind an easy object of attack, so it is often drawn from the course of the water-current by a strong air-current, and either hurried onward or retarded in its progress. An easterly and south-easterly wind must drive the ice westward, and press the masses closer than ever; whilst a westerly and north-westerly wind drives the icy dominion farther eastward, dividing the masses, and thereby rendering the ice-stream more navigable.

This ice-current, or ice-zone, in the outer part of which the whale-fishers mostly catch their prey, was what we were now about to sail across. That this task was certainly not so easy and simple as many think who have not seen for themselves, we knew from experience in the yacht “Greenland” in 1868. This time our steam power gave us greater hope. If we could only reach the vicinity of land we thought that in the much-talked-of “Land-water” we should at least be able to move with ease, and thereby obtain good results.

On the 15th of July we reached the ice-line. After a foggy day a light southerly breeze got up, the sails filled, the ship answered the helm once more, and we moved in a north-westerly course between small floes and brashes. A practised ear might now notice a peculiar distant roar, which seemed to come nearer by degrees. It was the sea surging against the still hidden ice. However unwelcome and equivocal this surging might sound to the ears of sailors far from any harbour (and it has a wonderfully paralyzing effect as one approaches), to-day it was listened to with unmistakable pleasure. The object of our longing is then at last reached, and if the ice should prove a blockade to us, we could at least remain comfortably in the Germania in its neighbourhood to inspect it.

Nearer and nearer comes the rushing noise. Every man is on deck; when, as with the touch of a magic wand, the mist divides, and a few hundred yards before us lies the ice, in long lines like a deep indented rocky coast, with walls glittering blue in the sun, and the foam of the waves mounting high, with the top covered with blinding white snow. The eyes of all rested with amazement on this grand panorama: it was a glorious but a serious moment, stirred as we were by new thoughts and feelings, by hopes and doubts, by bold and far-reaching expectations.

The mist closed again almost immediately; but this short moment and a glimpse from the crow’s-nest sufficed to show us the absolute thickness of the masses of ice. Here, even had it been our intention, we could never have broken through, and if any of us had formed a mistaken idea of ice-navigation, this must prove to the most inexperienced that such an obstacle could neither be overcome by the most powerful ironclad ship, nor by gunpowder. Our duty bade us first seek the Hansa in 75° N.L.; but, besides the fact that an easterly wind had been blowing for some days, making it anything but a favourable moment for forcing the icy range, it became necessary to wait another opportunity for making an energetic attempt.

The spot where the Germania struck the ice was in 74° 47′ N. Lat., and 11° 50′ W. Long., and the edge stretched almost due north and south. The Hansa reached the ice-line the same day in 74° 57′ N. Lat., and 9° 41′ W. Long. The log-book of the Germania says, “Heard the rushing of the water against the ice, but unfortunately could see nothing on account of the fog. Temperature of the sea’s surface 32° Fahr., a sure sign that we were near the ice; tacked therefore, and ran with a south-westerly wind some miles to the north-west, until the floes became so dense that we were obliged to turn. Steered in the fog along the ice northward. At four in the afternoon a point was passed, from which the line seemed to stretch more westward. Accordingly we sailed in that direction, and about seven came again to compact ice, which obliged us to turn and lie to. The fog was now so dense that we could only make out the pieces nearest to us. To judge by the breakers, the ice here stretched again to the north. On the morning of the 16th of July, the atmosphere lightened a little; when we set all sail and made for the ice, which was soon in sight. Towards the north and north-north-east lay a long chain of closely packed pieces; to the west and north-west opened a large bay, into which we sailed, that we might inspect nearer the position of the ice. By eleven we reached what was to all appearance the end of this bay, namely, a chain of drift ice, behind which, to westward, some open water showed itself, surrounded with ice. As it was not our intention to make any serious attempt to advance until we fell in with the Hansa, once more we lay to, in order to wait for clearer weather.” The first excitement and restlessness had by this time subsided, and we could observe surrounding nature more at our leisure. When the mist shifted a little, the view from the crow’s-nest was very beautiful; first the icy boundary, and then behind the endless labyrinth of floes. One was also able exactly to trace how the light and dark parts of the clouds lying over the horizon, as well as the light and dark stripes in them, reflected a true picture of the ice on the sea, and to study attentively this important appearance known as the “Ice and water sky.”

The chase brought us a new bird to-day, a handsome black guillemot (_Uria grylle_, L.), with its greenish shining plumage; the white band on its wings, and the red beak and wings looked wonderfully pretty. Our interest was, however, more aroused by a young crested seal which was killed in the night (_Cystophora cristata_), with shining black back, and whitish yellow belly. Of the peculiar blistery formation on the nose, from which they take their name, and which characterizes the grown-up male, there was yet no sign: but the creature was unmistakable from the form of its head; the well-defined snout of the common seals had entirely disappeared; but the strongest zoological mark lay in the teeth. We filled a wine-barrel half full of its fat, and the rest fell into the hands of the zoologist.

On the 17th we cruised about in the thick fog with a south-westerly breeze. We had no sooner tacked than we came upon ice, and were obliged to tack once more. It seemed as if we lay in a bay, surrounded by floating ice. At the same time many small loose floes were drifting around us, and were covered on the surface with the decomposing ice like white snow. We took up some shovelsful to melt, with a view to renewing our store of water. The mischievous fog played us many a trick in our tacking backwards and forwards. It is almost incredible how much larger the ice-floes appear in the fog. We seem, for instance, to be driving at a hill, forty-five to fifty feet high; and when we arrive there, it is a small floe with a hummock of about ten feet! This delusion we had subsequently often to experience, though at first it afforded us great ground for amusement. The ice had in the thick fog something altogether spectral and gloomy in appearance; but as to real danger to the ship in this floating ice, where there are no icebergs, there is none, except in a heavy sea, with storms or calm. Towards evening the ice pressed closer and closer around, so that to prevent ourselves being enclosed, we had to keep more eastward. At two in the morning we broke through the current, that is the outer chain of floes, and saw at once by the windward roll that we were once more in the open sea, where we had to lie by in expectation of better weather.

The floes lay so thick at the border, that with the faint breeze the ship could not get through, and for the first time we had to employ the long ice-hooks to push aside those lying directly under our bow, or when very large, to work the ship round them. It was a most agreeable night; and as it was the first time that the ship, in the true sense of the word, had really come in contact with the ice, all on deck willingly took a hand in the work and made it a pleasure to get rid of the obstinate companions that impeded the progress of our Germania. Here we had the best opportunity of studying the configuration of the floes somewhat more nearly. They were mostly flat, and of the most varied form. We could see at once, that warmth, air, sun, and wave-friction had been at work upon them for some time past. From the rushing of the water the edges were rounded and hollowed; they ranged from four to twelve inches out of the water, whilst the mass under the water was about four times as great. On the surface, as we have already mentioned, they were covered with the melting ice like snow some inches high; and on the larger ones small pools of water were found, which generally make their appearance about the beginning of July, and about the beginning of August are again covered with a crust of ice. Remove the snow and we come once more to the glistening blue ice. Between the floes are hummocks, miniature mountains so to speak, which rise in various forms, now elegant, now bold, and from the crevices and shaded plains shed the most beautiful blue light. This blue changes sometimes to a green; indeed, one is often surprised to see a most lovely emerald green. Taking also into consideration that this almost always quiet water reflects the clearest pictures, one can imagine how great a charm this ice scenery must have for a novice. But it is not only the beautiful and majestic which has such an effect, but all sorts of fantastic shapes which delight the beholder by their wonderful variety. For instance, the small or large ice-blocks, from melting and the washing of the water, frequently assume the most peculiar forms. Here rides a stately swan, there an eagle spreads its mighty wings; here a staring seal stretches its head out of the water, and there stands an elegant marble table.

At home, when wishing to picture such things out of the clouds, or the ice-trees on the windows, one must exercise a certain amount of imagination; here they are forced upon the least enthusiastic observer, and we could not help giving our unqualified assent to Scoresby’s description, which until then we had thought a little exaggerated. “Arctic birds” (so it runs in the Hansa’s Journal at this time) “such as the stormy petrel, gulls, robber-gulls, auks, and puffins surrounded the ship. For want of something else to do, we caught a number of them by angling, and then gave them their liberty after fastening a small piece of metal to them by a silken band with the name Hansa and the latitude (73° N.) engraved upon it. _Procellaria glacialis_ were swimming like ducks in our wake, and biting one another with loud chattering for the pieces of bacon thrown to them almost under the stern.”

On the morning of the 18th, the atmosphere brightened with a light southerly wind; and for the first time since we left Jan Mayen, on the 9th of July, it was bright and clear. We now saw that we were in a large ice bay, opening towards the south-east. It was a wonderfully beautiful (one might almost say a festive) Sunday morning. The eye refreshed itself with the deep blue of the softly rippling and lightly moving sea, and rested quietly upon the wide semicircle of the glittering ice-bank. The sun once more sent a friendly beam from the clear sky, and seemed to show us that even here he could provide what we had so long needed--warmth and dryness. With what pleasure we enjoyed those morning hours, and drew in the clear fresh air! How we once more learned to realize what sun and sunshine are to mankind! But, wonderful to relate, with all this, the recollections of our own country receded more and more. We stood and felt that we were at the entrance of a new world, whose whole enchantment had thus burst upon us. At first, there was an imperceptible struggle with the mighty powers of nature; but now we were thoroughly prepared for anything that might turn up, and looked forward with impatience to our advancing westward. One after the other mounted to the topmast or the “crow’s-nest,” and gazed out upon the masses of ice: we could not satiate ourselves with the panorama. A way for the Germania must and should be found.

But there was another and more important object which the sharpest eyes could not succeed in finding, our lost sister-ship, the Hansa, which we had not seen since leaving Jan Mayen. It was impossible that she could be far away, for we were quite near the appointed place of rendezvous, 75° N.L., and we must in any case find her now before the fog should surround us once more. The prize of a bottle of wine was therefore set upon the discovery of the Hansa, though we scarcely required this incitement, so keen and so deep was our interest in the fate of our beloved comrades.

Soon after breakfast, to the great joy of all, a sail was discovered from the topmast far away in the ice in E.N.E. It was a schooner, and as the whale-fishers do not use such craft, it must be the Hansa, which by a seaman’s eye was soon verified by her peculiar rig. The Hansa was under full sail; certainly she must have already seen us, and was trying her best to reach us through the apparently thick ice which surrounded her. We ourselves hoped that we should be able at once to advance farther westward together; so the boiler was heated without delay, and everything prepared for getting up steam, so as to unite the two vessels before the fog returned. Meanwhile, it was four o’clock in the afternoon ere we could move, as, in fitting the screw, something had been overlooked, which took us some hours to rectify. The Hansa had in the meantime worked herself some miles nearer to us, and now lay in the floating ice. The weather was beautiful and clear, and there was a dead calm; so that with the speed of 5¼ knots, which we made with a 50lb. pressure, we reached our friends at about eight o’clock. The ice-spikes which encircled our bay to the north-east, stretching far to the east, and towards which we were driving, resolved themselves as we approached into small, and very small, brashes, between which the ship easily made her way or forced it, though not without some gratings and slight working of the steam. Our farther advance was unimpeded. The ice-strewn sea now presented a peculiarly interesting spectacle. It had assumed by the reflection of the sky, which had been heavily-clouded for some hours, an almost black hue, in strong contrast with the colour of the ice, whilst the north-westerly horizon shone with the brightest yellow tints. At eight we were near the Hansa; both ships hoisted their flags. The Hansa gave expression to her joy by firing her guns; but we, not being prepared, had to return the salute with our fowling-pieces. Greetings re-echoed from one side to the other, as we went round the Hansa, and universal joy reigned on board both ships.

We then took her in tow, and steered back the same way by which we had come, until some slight disorder in the machinery obliged us to stop, when both ships were again put under sail.

Meanwhile Captain Hegemann, Dr. Buchholz, and Dr. Laube had come on board, and the captains consulted together regarding the next steps to be taken. The Hansa had, like ourselves, been several days in the ice. Indeed, a glance at the logs showed that since their separation the two vessels had never been far from one another, that they had sailed in the same course to the ice, and had also sighted it the same day, and that nothing but continued fog had prevented us from sighting each other sooner. Captain Hegemann reported that farther north a larger bay penetrated to the westward. We, however, preferred trying the southerly one. We further agreed, conformably with our instructions, that in case of a separation among the ice, the next place of meeting should be Sabine Island, as it was plainly loss of time to return to 74½° N.L., to the line of heavy ice, if we had each found an opening; besides which, the attempt ought not to be given up before the middle of September, and we hoped to get through much sooner, as the position of the ice, in comparison with that of 1868, seemed more favourable.

Meanwhile, the gentlemen sat in the cabin over their wine, exchanging the experiences and results of the last few days. The zoologists, it is true, were the only men who were particularly satisfied, as both in the higher and lower classes of animals they had already an interesting collection. Of birds there were several “Mallemucke” shot and properly prepared; also one of the robber-gulls with the two peculiar elongated middle tail feathers (_Lestris crepidata_, Brehm). Several seals (_Phoca Greenlandica_, L.) had also fallen a sacrifice to science. But the lower animals had yielded the richest harvest, and besides different species of _Calanus_, _Lysianassa_, _Gammarus_, and so forth, several specimens of the beautiful _Beroë_ had been obtained. Pity that these wonderful creatures, with transparent cucumber-shaped bodies, long rosy-red tentacles, and their eight rows of glittering, many-coloured leaf-like processes, with which they move slowly forward, cannot be preserved in their original beauty.

But in other respects also we had not been altogether inactive. The soundings--this difficult and time-consuming work--had here on the ice boundary shown an important deepening of the bottom of the sea; whilst on the 14th we had touched ground at 930 fathoms, on the 15th we could no longer do so with 1230 fathoms. Here the unsettled state of the weather prevented us from finishing this work with satisfaction to ourselves.

The mean temperature of these four days was 35° Fahr. It did not rise above 40°, and once, early on the 16th, sank to below 32°. The water on the surface was of much the same temperature; it oscillated between 34° and 33½°. The colour of the water was mostly clear blue.

In the exchange of such observations and merry and free conversation, it was now midnight. At this time we were obliged to stop, as the axle-bed was heated and required cooling. A rising fog and a coming breeze decided us; so we gave up steam entirely, and let the two ships separate once more and proceed under sail.

Full of joy and confident hope for the future, we shook hands at parting, and the gentlemen from the Hansa returned to their ship. In sisterly harmony the two vessels sailed along, and many a joyous greeting and joke resounded from the one to the other.

Who on this evening would have thought that this was the last time we should be together? that we should never again see our sister-ship, and our comrades only after fourteen months’ time, and then so wonderfully preserved from drowning? Our happy feelings did not allow such unwholesome thoughts to arise.

Our present object was now to follow the ice boundary farther southward, at the same time looking for an opening by which we might push on to the west. In tacking in contrary winds, we came against several sharp prominences of the thick ice-line, which here stretched in a west-south-westerly direction.

On the afternoon of the 19th of July the breeze freshened; we made good way, and as much open water was before us, we soon noticed the now unusual swell. The weather was tolerable, the fog came and went, so that we kept the Hansa mostly in sight.

This day brought us something new. The first white bear was seen, and that swimming, and for the first time an Arctic dish appeared on our table. At breakfast the cook astonished us with a very delicate and tender seal liver, and in the evening a very savoury stew of the flesh; we were glad to get a little fresh meat, and soon lost the excusable repugnance to the “oily” seal.

We sailed farther along the ice-line towards the south-west.

On the night of the 19th and 20th we fell in with ice, seemingly a part of the closely-packed floes driven from the great mass. The swell had entirely disappeared, and we moved amongst loose floating ice to the south-west. It was mostly thick fog at night, though it cleared somewhat about eight in the morning. The wind was S.S.W. In the south-west we still found compact floating ice, and at eleven turned again to westward. The Hansa was a few miles to windward of us; and as both captains wished to consult together once more, and, if the weather allowed, to take coals on board the Germania, the approach signal was hoisted. The Hansa misunderstood this,[13] set more sail, and disappeared in the now thickly-rising fog before we could succeed in following her. Thus a fatal misunderstanding separated the two ships, and that for ever. We will now leave the Germania, under Captain Koldewey’s command, to her further course, and hear Captain Hegemann and his companions’ report as to how the Hansa fared.