Chapter II: Currents of the Ocean (2)

The first navigator who penetrated the Antarctic circle was the Dutch captain, Theodoric de Gheritk, whose vessel formed part of the squadron commanded by Simon de Cordes, destined for the East Indies. In January, 1600, a tempest having dispersed the squadron, Captain Gheritk was driven as far south as the sixty-fourth parallel, where he observed a coast which reminded him of Norway. It was mountainous, covered with snow, stretching from the coast to the Isles of Solomon. The report of Simon de Cordes was received with great incredulity, and the doubts raised were only dissipated when the New South Shetland Islands were definitely recognized. The idea of an Antarctic continent is, however, one of the oldest conceptions of speculative geography, and one which mariners and philosophers alike have found it most difficult to relinquish. The existence of a southern continent seemed to them to be the necessary counterpoise to the Arctic land. The _Terra Australis incognita_ is marked on all the maps of Mercator, round the South Pole, and when the Dutch officer, Kerguelen, discovered, in 1772, the island which bears his name, he quoted this idea of Mercator as the motive which suggested the voyage. In 1774, Captain Cook ventured up to and beyond the seventy-first degree of latitude under the one hundred and ninth degree west longitude. He traversed a hundred and eighty leagues, between the fiftieth degree and sixtieth degree of south latitude, without finding the land of which mariners had spoken: this led him to conclude that mountains of ice, or the great fog-banks of the region, had been mistaken for a continent. Nevertheless, Cook clung to the idea of the existence of a southern continent. "I firmly believe," he says, "that near the Pole there is land where most part of the ice is formed which is spread over the vast Southern Ocean. I cannot believe that the ice could extend itself so far if it had not land--and I venture to say land of considerable extent--to the south. I believe, nevertheless, that the greater part of this southern continent ought to lie within the Polar Circle, where the sea is so encumbered with ice as to be unapproachable. The danger run in surveying a coast in these unknown seas is so great, that I dare to say no one will venture to go farther than I have, and that the land that lies to the south will always remain unknown. The fogs are there too dense; the snowstorms and tempests too frequent; the cold too severe; all the dangers of navigation too numerous. The appearance of the coast is the most horrible that can be imagined. The country is condemned by nature to remain unvisited by the sun, and buried under eternal hoar frost. After this report, I believe that we shall hear no more of a southern continent." This description of these desolate regions, to which the great navigator might have applied the words of Pliny, "_Pars mundi a natura damnata et densa mersa caligine_," only excited the courage of his successors. In our days, several expeditions have been fitted out for the express survey of regions which may be characterised as the abode of cold, silence, and death. In 1833, a free passage opened itself into the Antarctic Sea. The Scottish whaling ship, commanded by James Weddell, entered the pack ice, and penetrated it in pursuit of seals; but having, by chance, found the sea open on his course, he forced his way up to seventy-four degrees south latitude, and under the thirty-fourth degree of longitude, but the season was too advanced, and he and his crew retraced their steps. The voyage of Captain Weddell caused a great sensation, and suggested the possibility of more serious expeditions. Twelve years later three great expeditions were fitted out: one, under Dumont D'Urville, of the French Marine; an American expedition, under Captain Wilkes, of the United States Navy; and an English expedition, under Sir James Clark Ross.

Dumont D'Urville, who perished so miserably in the railway catastrophe at Versailles, in 1842, passed the Straits of Magellan on the 9th of January, 1838, having under his command the two corvettes _Astrolabe_ and _Zelée_. He expected to find it as Weddell had described, and that, after passing the first icy barrier, he should find an open sea before him. But he was soon compelled to renounce this hope. The floating icebergs became more and more closely packed and dangerous. The southern icebergs do not circulate in straits and channels already formed, like those of the North Pole, but in enormous detached blocks which hug the land. Sometimes in shallow water they form belts parallel to the base of the cliffs, intersected by a small number of sinuous narrow channels. These icy cliffs present a face more or less disintegrated as they approximate to the rocky shore. The blocks of ice form at first huge prisms, or tabular, regular masses of a whitish paste; but they get used up by degrees, and rounded off and separated under the action of the waves, which chafe them, and their colour becomes more and more limpid and bluish. They ascend freely towards the north, in spite of the winds and currents which carry them in the contrary direction. One year with another these floating icebergs accumulate with very striking differences, and it is only by a rare chance that they open up a free passage such as Captain Weddell had discovered. These floating islands of ice have been met with in thirty-five degrees south latitude, and even as high as Cape Horn.

The two French ships frequently found themselves shut up in the icebergs, which continued to press upon them, and driven before the north winds, until the south wind again dispersed their vast masses, enabling them to issue from their prison in health and safety. In some cases D'Urville found it necessary to force his ship through fields of ice by which he was surrounded and imprisoned, and to cut his way by force through the accumulating blocks, using the corvette as a sort of battering-ram. In 1838 he recognized, about fifty leagues from the South Orkney Isles, a coast, to which he gave the name of _Louis Philippe's_ and _Joinville's Land_. This coast is covered with enormous masses of ice, which seemed to rise to the height of two thousand six hundred feet. Ross discovered still more lofty peaks, such as Mount Penny and Mount Haddington, rising about seven thousand feet. The English navigator states that this land is only a great island. The crew of D'Urville's ship being sickly and overworked, he returned to the port of Chili, whence he again issued for the South Pole in the following January.

On this occasion his approach was made from a point diametrically opposite to the former. He very soon found himself in the middle of the ice. He discovered within the Antarctic Circle land, to which he gave the name of _Adelia's Land_. The long and lofty cliffs of this island or continent he describes as being surrounded by a belt of islands of ice at once numerous and threatening. D'Urville did not hesitate to navigate his corvettes through the middle of the band of enormous icebergs which seemed to guard the Pole and forbid his approach to it. For some moments his vessels were so surrounded that they had reason to fear, from moment to moment, some terrible shock, some irreparable disaster. In addition to this, the sea produces around these floating icebergs, eddies, which were not unlikely to draw on the ship to the destruction with which it was threatened at every instant. It was in passing at their base that D'Urville was able to judge of the height of these icy cliffs. "The walls of these blocks of ice," he says, "far exceed our masts and riggings in height; they overhang our ships, whose dimensions seem ridiculously curtailed. We seem to be traversing the narrow streets of some city of giants. At the foot of these gigantic monuments we perceive vast caverns hollowed by the waves, which are engulfed there with a crashing tumult. The sun darts his oblique rays upon the immense walls of ice as if it were crystal, presenting effects of light and shade truly magical and startling. From the summit of these mountains, numerous brooks, fed by the melting ice produced by the summer heat of a January sun in these regions, throw themselves in cascades into the icy sea.

"Occasionally these icebergs approach each other so as to conceal the land entirely, and we only perceive two walls of threatening ice, whose sonorous echoes send back the word of command of the officers. The corvette which followed the _Astrolabe_ appeared so small, and its masts so slender, that the ship's crew were seized with terror. For nearly an hour we only saw vertical walls of ice." Ultimately they reached a vast basin, formed on one side by the chain of floating islands which they had traversed, and on the other by high land rising three and four thousand feet, rugged and undulating on the surface, but clothed over all with an icy mantle, which was rendered dazzlingly imposing in its whiteness by the rays of the sun. The officers could only advance by the ship's boats through a labyrinth of icebergs up to a little islet lying opposite to the coast. They touched the land at this islet; the French flag was planted, possession was taken of the new continent, and, in proof of possession, some portions of rock were torn from the scarped and denuded cliffs. These rocks are composed of quartzite and gneiss. The southern continent, therefore, belongs to the primitive formation, while the northern region belongs in great part to the transition, or coal formation. According to the map of Adelia's Land, traced by D'Urville over an extent of thirty leagues of country, the region is one of death and desolation, without any trace of vegetation.

A little more to the north, the French navigator had a vague vision on the white lines of the horizon of another land, which he named _Côte Clarie_, or Coast Clear, the existence of which was soon confirmed by the American expedition under Commodore Wilkes. This officer has explored the southern land on a larger scale than any other navigator, but he suffered himself to be led into error by the dense fogs of the region, and has laid down coast lines on his map where Sir James Boss subsequently found only open sea--an error which has very unjustly thrown discredit on the whole expedition.

The English expedition entered this region on Christmas Day, 1840, which was passed by Ross in a strong gale, with constant snow or rain. Soon after, the first icebergs were seen, having flat tabular summits, in some instances two miles in circumference, bounded on all sides by perpendicular cliffs. On New Year's Day, 1841, the ships crossed the Antarctic Circle, and reached the edge of the pack ice, which they entered, after skirting it for several days. On the 5th, the pack was passed through, amid blinding snow and thick fog, which on clearing away revealed an open sea, and on the 11th of January land was seen directly ahead of the ships. A coast line rose in lofty snow-covered peaks at a great distance. On a nearer view, this coast is thus described: "It was a beautifully clear evening, and two magnificent ranges of mountains rose to elevations varying from seven thousand to ten thousand feet above the level of the sea." The glaciers which filled their intervening valleys, and which descended from near the mountain summits, projected in many places several miles into the sea, and terminated in lofty perpendicular cliffs. In a few places the rocks broke through their icy covering, by which alone we could be assured that lava formed the nucleus of this, to all appearance, enormous iceberg. This antarctic land was named Victoria Land, in honour of the Queen. It was coasted up to latitude seventy-eight degrees south, and near to this a magnificent volcanic mountain presented itself, rising twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea, which emitted flame and smoke in splendid profusion. The flanks of this gigantic mountain were clothed with snow almost to the mouth of the crater from which the flaming smoke issued. At a short distance, Ross discovered the cone of an extinct, or, at least, inactive volcano nearly as lofty. He gave to these two volcanoes the names of his vessels, _Erebus_ and _Terror_ (Fig. 9)--names perfectly in harmony with the surrounding desolation. The ice-covered cliffs rose about a hundred and ninety feet high, and appear to be about three hundred feet deep, soundings being found at about four hundred fathoms. In the distance, towards the south, a range of lofty mountains were observed, which Ross named _Mount Parry_, in honour of his old commander. When Ross retraced his steps, the expedition had advanced as far as the seventy-ninth degree of south latitude.

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It may be said of polar countries, that they form a transition state between land and sea, for water is always present, although in a solid state; the surface is always at a very low temperature; snow does not melt as it falls, and the sea is thus sometimes covered with a continuous sheet of frozen snow; sometimes with enormous floating blocks of ice which are driven by the currents. Meeting with these floating masses of ice is one of the dangers of polar navigation. Captain Scoresby has given a very detailed description of the different kinds of ice met with in the Arctic Seas. The ice-fields of this writer form extensive masses of solid water, of which the eye cannot trace the limits, some of them being thirty-five leagues in length and ten broad, with a thickness of seven to eight fathoms; but generally these ice-fields rise only four to six feet above the water, and reach from three to four fathoms beneath the surface. Scoresby has seen these ice-fields forming in the open sea. When the first crystals appear, the surface of the ocean is cold enough to prevent snow from melting as it falls. On the approach of congelation the surface solidifies, and seems as if covered with oil; small circles are formed, which press against each other, and are finally soldered together until they form a vast field of ice, the thickness of which increases from the lower surface.

The water produced from melted ice is perfectly fresh--the result of a well-known physical cause. When a saline solution like sea water is congealed by cold, pure water alone passes into the solid state, the saline solution becomes more concentrated, increases in density, and, sinking to the bottom, remains liquid. Blocks of ice, therefore, in the Polar Seas, are always available for domestic use. There are, however, salt blocks of ice, which are distinguished from fresh-water ice by their opaqueness and their dazzling white colour: this saltness is due to the sea water retained in its interstices. Scoresby amused himself sometimes by shaping lenses of ice, with which he is said to have set fire to gunpowder, much to the astonishment of his crew.

The ice-fields, which are formed in higher latitudes, are driven towards the south by winds and currents, but sooner or later the action of the waves breaks them up into fragments. The edges of the broken icebergs are thus often rising and continually changing: these asperities and protuberances are called _hummocks_ by English navigators; they give to the polar ice an odd, irregular appearance. Hummocks form themselves of the stray, broken icebergs which come in contact with each other at their edges, and thus form vast rafts, the pieces of which may exceed a hundred yards in length.

When these icebergs are separated by open spaces, through which vessels can be navigated, the pack ice is said to be open. But it often happens that mountains of ice occur partly submerged, where one edge is retained under the principal mass, while the other is above the water. Scoresby once passed over a _calf_, as English mariners call these icy mountains, but he trembled while he did so, dreading lest it should throw his vessel, himself, and crew into the air before he could pass it. The aspect of the ice-fields varies in a thousand ways. Here it is an incoherent chaos resembling some volcanic rocks, with crevices in all directions, bristling with unshapely blocks piled up at random; there it is a strongly-marked plain, an immense mosaic formed of vast blocks of ice of every age and thickness, the divisions of which are marked by long ridges of the most irregular forms; sometimes resembling walls composed of great rectangular blocks, sometimes resembling chains of hills, with great rounded summits.

In the spring, when a thaw sets in, and the fields begin to break up, the pieces of light ice which unite the great blocks into unique masses are the first to melt; the several blocks then separate, and the motion of the water soon disperses them, and the imprisoned ships find a free passage. But a day of calm is still sufficient to unite the dispersed masses, which oscillate and grind against each other with a strange noise, which sailors compare to the yelping of young dogs.

When a ship is shut up in one of these floating ice-fields, inexplicable changes sometimes occur in the vast incoherent aggregations. Vessels, which think themselves immovable, are found in a few hours to have completely reversed their positions. Two ships shut in at a short distance from each other were driven many leagues without being able to perceive any change in the surrounding ice. At other times ships are drawn with the floating ice-fields, like the white bears, who make long voyages at sea upon these monster vehicles. In 1777 the Dutch vessel, the _Wilhelmina_, was driven with some other whaling ships from eighty degrees north back to sixty-two degrees, in sight of the Iceland coast. During this terrible journey the ships were broken up one after the other. More than two hundred persons perished, and the remainder reached land with difficulty.

Lieutenant De Haven, navigating in search of Sir John Franklin, was caught in the ice in the middle of the channel in Wellington Strait. During the nine months which he remained in captivity, he drifted nearly thirteen hundred miles towards the south; and the ship _Resolute_, abandoned by Captain Kellet in an ice-field of immense extent, was drifted towards the south with this vast mass to a much greater distance.

Some curious speculations are hazarded by Dr. Maury, arising out of his investigations of winds and currents, facts being revealed which indicate the existence of a climate, mild by comparison, within the Antarctic Circle. These indications are a low barometer, a high degree of aerial rarefaction, and strong winds from the north. "The winds," he says, "were the first to whisper of this strange state of things, and to intimate to us that the Antarctic climates are in winter very unlike the Arctic for rigour and severity." The result of an immense mass of observation on the polar and equatorial winds reveals a marked difference in atmospherical movements north, as compared with the same movements south of the Equator; the equatorial winds of the northern hemisphere being only in excess between the tenth and thirteenth parallel, while those of the southern hemisphere are dominant over a zone of forty-five degrees, or from thirty-five degrees south to ten degrees north.

"The fact that the influence of the polar indraught upon the winds should extend from the Antarctic to the parallel of forty degrees south, while that from the Arctic is so feeble as scarcely to be felt in fifty degrees north, is indicative enough as to the difference in degree of aerial rarefaction over the two regions. The significance of the fact is enhanced by the consideration that the 'brave west winds,' which are bound to the place of greatest rarefaction, rush more violently and constantly along to their destination than do the counter-trades of the northern hemisphere. Why should these polar-bound winds differ so much in strength and prevalence, unless there be a much more abundant supply of caloric, and, consequently, a higher degree of rarefaction, at one pole than at the other?"

That this is the case is confirmed by all known barometrical observations, which are very much lower in the Antarctic than in the Arctic, and Dr. Maury thinks this is doubtless due to the excess in Antarctic regions of aqueous vapour and this latent heat.

"There is rarefaction in the Arctic regions. The winds show it, the barometer attests it, and the fact is consistent with the Russian theory of a Polynia in polar waters. Within the Antarctic Circle, on the contrary, the winds bring air which has come over the water for the distance of hundreds of leagues all around; consequently, a large portion of atmospheric air is driven away from the austral regions by the force of vapour."