Thirty-five years ago I made a voyage to the Arctic Seas in what
Chaucer calls
A little bote
No bigger than a manne's thought;
it was a Phantom Ship that made some voyages to different parts of
the world which were recorded in early numbers of Charles Dickens's
"Household Words." As preface to Richard Hakluyt's records of the
first endeavour of our bold Elizabethan mariners to find North-West
Passage to the East, let me repeat here that old voyage of mine from
No. 55 of "Household Words," dated the 12th of April, 1851: The
Phantom is fitted out for Arctic exploration, with instructions to
find her way, by the north-west, to Behring Straits, and take the
South Pole on her passage home. Just now we steer due north, and
yonder is the coast of Norway. From that coast parted Hugh
Willoughby, three hundred years ago; the first of our countrymen who
wrought an ice-bound highway to Cathay. Two years afterwards his
ships were found, in the haven of Arzina, in Lapland, by some
Russian fishermen; near and about them Willoughby and his
companions - seventy dead men. The ships were freighted with their
frozen crews, and sailed for England; but, "being unstaunch, as it
is supposed, by their two years' wintering in Lapland, sunk, by the
way, with their dead, and them also that brought them."
Ice floats about us now, and here is a whale blowing; a whale, too,
very near Spitzbergen. When first Spitzbergen was discovered, in
the good old times, there were whales here in abundance; then a
hundred Dutch ships, in a crowd, might go to work, and boats might
jostle with each other, and the only thing deficient would be
stowage room for all the produce of the fishery. Now one ship may
have the whole field to itself, and travel home with an imperfect
cargo. It was fine fun in the good old times; there was no need to
cruise. Coppers and boilers were fitted on the island, and little
colonies about them, in the fishing season, had nothing to do but
tow the whales in, with a boat, as fast as they were wanted by the
copper. No wonder that so enviable a Tom Tidler's ground was
claimed by all who had a love for gold and silver. The English
called it theirs, for they first fished; the Dutch said, nay, but
the island was of their discovery; Danes, Hamburghers, Bisayans,
Spaniards, and French put in their claims; and at length it was
agreed to make partitions. The numerous bays and harbours which
indent the coast were divided among the rival nations; and, to this
day, many of them bear, accordingly, such names as English Bay,
Danes Bay, and so forth. One bay there is, with graves in it, named
Sorrow. For it seemed to the fishers most desirable, if possible,
to plant upon this island permanent establishments, and condemned
convicts were offered, by the Russians, life and pardon, if they
would winter in Spitzbergen. They agreed; but, when they saw the
icy mountains and the stormy sea, repented, and went back, to meet a
death exempt from torture. The Dutch tempted free men, by high
rewards, to try the dangerous experiment. One of their victims left
a journal, which describes his suffering and that of his companions.
Their mouths, he says, became so sore that, if they had food, they
could not eat; their limbs were swollen and disabled with
excruciating pain; they died of scurvy. Those who died first were
coffined by their dying friends; a row of coffins was found, in the
spring, each with a man in it; two men uncoffined, side by side,
were dead upon the floor. The journal told how once the traces of a
bear excited their hope of fresh meat and amended health; how, with
a lantern, two or three had limped upon the track, until the light
became extinguished, and they came back in despair to die. We might
speak, also, of eight English sailors, left, by accident, upon
Spitzbergen, who lived to return and tell their winter's tale; but a
long journey is before us and we must not linger on the way. As for
our whalers, it need scarcely be related that the multitude of
whales diminished as the slaughtering went on, until it was no
longer possible to keep the coppers full. The whales had to be
searched for by the vessels, and thereafter it was not worth while
to take the blubber to Spitzbergen to be boiled; and the different
nations, having carried home their coppers, left the apparatus of
those fishing stations to decay.
Take heed. There is a noise like thunder, and a mountain snaps in
two. The upper half comes, crashing, grinding, down into the sea,
and loosened streams of water follow it. The sea is displaced
before the mighty heap; it boils and scatters up a cloud of spray;
it rushes back, and violently beats upon the shore. The mountain
rises from its bath, sways to and fro, while water pours along its
mighty sides; now it is tolerably quiet, letting crackers off as air
escapes out of its cavities. That is an iceberg, and in that way
are all icebergs formed. Mountains of ice formed by rain and snow -
grand Arctic glaciers, undermined by the sea or by accumulation
over-balanced - topple down upon the slightest provocation (moved by
a shout, perhaps), and where they float, as this black-looking
fellow does, they need deep water. This berg in height is about
ninety feet, and a due balance requires that a mass nine times as
large as the part visible should be submerged. Icebergs are seen
about us now which rise two hundred feet above the water's level.
There are above head plenty of aquatic birds; ashore, or on the ice,
are bears, foxes, reindeer; and in the sea there are innumerable
animals.
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