CHAPTER XV.

WINTER OCCUPATIONS AND AMUSEMENTS.

"Darkness, Light's eldest brother, his birthright Claimed o'er this world, and to heaven chased light."

DONNE.

"Behold the wandering moon Riding near her highest noon, Like one that hath been led astray Through the heavens' wide pathless way; And oft as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud."

MILTON.

The sun, as has been mentioned in a previous chapter, took its final departure on the 11th of October. From this date darkness gradually settled upon us, reaching its greatest intensity on the 21st of December. The type of a leading article in the _Times_ newspaper was taken by us as a test of the darkness. This was last read in the open air at midday on the 6th of November, and then only by a few with a great deal of difficulty. Many unsuccessful attempts were made on subsequent days. For a fortnight on either side of the 21st of December, the difference in the light between noon and midnight, on a clear day, was almost imperceptible, on a dull day it was quite inappreciable. Occasionally, at other times, at midday a faint luminous band might be observed along the southern horizon, but this was all the indication we had of the difference between day and night.

We did not forget to celebrate on the 21st of October the Battle of Trafalgar, remembering that our great naval hero, Nelson,[1] was himself an old Arctic navigator. Our caterers provided us with a good dinner, and we were regaled, as a great indulgence on such an auspicious occasion, with an extra glass of wine! Two elaborate bills of fare were placed on the table, on one of which was very creditably sketched the "Alert" in winter quarters, and on the other was depicted the Battle of Trafalgar, with the motto on each, "England expects every man _this_ day to do his duty!" As there was a good dinner on the table, and the cold weather had made us wondrous hungry, we all responded nobly to the call!

The 5th of November was another anniversary that could not pass unnoticed. On that evening the effigy of Guy Fawkes, ingeniously stuffed with squibs and seated on a cask well smeared with tar, was duly paraded round the upper deck, accompanied by the drums and fifes playing the "Rogue's March." It was then dragged, on a sledge, to the summit of a neighbouring hummock, and there solemnly burnt in presence of the whole ship's company. The band continued to play until the lips and fingers of the fifers became so frost-bitten that they were compelled to desist. It was a novel sight to see the dusky forms of the men, clad in seal-skins, dancing round a blazing fire on the top of an enormous mass of ice, whilst in the background was the ship with her masts and yards thickly coated with snow, and all her ropes clearly defined in the bright "bonfire light." A beautiful balloon, manufactured by Moss out of various coloured tissue-papers, also formed a prominent feature in the evening's display. Unfortunately, shortly after it was released, and before it had ascended to any very great height, it caught fire and was quickly consumed.

It must not be supposed, because I enumerate all the little incidents connected with the amusements of the men, that other and more important work was neglected. On the contrary, the officers were unceasingly engaged during the winter in taking scientific observations in their respective departments; each officer being awarded some special subject. These included observations in astronomy, magnetism, electricity, meteorology, tides, spectrum analysis, observations for the detection of the polarization of light, chlorine, and specific gravity estimations. The pursuit of these investigations was at times a matter of great difficulty and extreme personal discomfort. It necessitated attendance in, and consequent exposure to, a temperature many degrees below zero, for several hours at a time. Under these circumstances it is no easy matter to handle delicate instruments, the manipulation of which, even in a temperate climate, requires the utmost care and caution. Made extremely brittle by the intense cold, a fall to any of the small metal movable parts of an instrument, such as the needles, would be fatal, yet it is almost impossible to touch them with the uncovered hand. The breath freezing on the arcs and verniers of the instruments during the time of observation, and on the glasses of the telescopes and mirrors, adds seriously to the difficulty; whilst the unequal contraction of different metals during intensely cold weather renders some of the instruments totally useless.

Paraselenæ, or mock moons, and auroras were of frequent occurrence, but none of the latter were sufficiently bright to call for special mention. These phenomena were always carefully examined, and the results recorded. As a rule the auroras consisted of faint coruscations darting across the heavens through the zenith, frequently in the form of an irregular arch terminating at each end on the horizon, and generally accompanied by various small luminous patches.

The lunations of the moon were periods that were always looked forward to, and gladly welcomed, affording as they did, on clear bright days, a marked contrast to the gruesome darkness that generally prevailed. These clear days were not inappropriately termed "moony" ones, and were taken advantage of to perform all work that was considered necessary outside the ship.

"Rising in clouded majesty, at length The moon unveiled her peerless light And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw."

Even on these bright silvery "moony" days it was unsafe to venture to any distance from the ship, as the sudden "veiling of her peerless light" by fog or clouds would produce total darkness, and so prevent the unfortunate wanderer from finding his way back.

Great attention was paid to the important duty of seeing that a proper amount of exercise was taken by every soul on board. Open-air exercise was the more essential to health, because the air we breathed on board was not as pure as might be desired. This was inevitable, and the evil could only be partially counteracted by strict attention to the enforcing of outdoor exercise. A walk was constructed along the floe near the ship, for a distance of half a mile, marked at every two or three yards by small heaps of empty preserved meat tins, placed there by our industrious doctor. We were thus able to take our exercise along this promenade even on the darkest day, and the number of times that each individual walked up and down during the day was proudly recounted at the dinner-table. The darkness prevented walks to any greater distance for a considerable time. This then was our fashionable lounge, and was called the "Ladies' Mile" after the drive of the same name in Hyde Park.

Our greatest annoyance was undoubtedly caused by the incessant drip in our cabins and elsewhere on board. So bad was it that all books had to be removed from the shelves, or from any position where they were in contact with the ship's side or the beams overhead. Especially over our beds did we suffer, and could only make certain of a dry night's rest by taking the precaution of nailing a blanket over the bed, or sloping one as an awning! No means that we could devise, although many experiments were tried on the living deck of the men as well as by the officers in their cabins, lessened the condensation from which we suffered, and which increased with any rise of temperature. One officer went so far as to light, and keep burning for a whole day, no less than fifty-two candles and one lamp in his cabin, hoping by these means to dry it thoroughly; but although it answered the purpose for a day or two, at an enormous cost, it was soon as bad as ever. During the time of his _illumination_ he succeeded in raising the temperature of his cabin from 40° to 75°! It is decidedly unpleasant, whilst writing, to have a continual stream of water pouring down upon your head and upon your paper; yet it is impossible to prevent this disagreeable drip.

One of my messmates, more fortunate than his brother officers, had brought an umbrella with him, and this being spread over his chair protected him from the wet, and thus enabled him to read or write in comparative comfort, and, what was perhaps of greater consequence, with the perfect preservation of his temper.

It may appear like affectation on my part when I say that any rise of temperature, during the winter, was viewed by us with dissatisfaction. Clad as we were to resist a cold of many degrees below zero, we were made absolutely uncomfortable by the _heat_ when the thermometer indicated any degree with a + sign. The only real good that we derived from such a rise of temperature was that we were able more freely to throw open the doors leading down to the lower deck, and thus admit a thorough circulation of fresh air; on one occasion during the month of November the temperature rose as high as 23°, and in December it reached the unprecedented height (for that season of the year) of 35°! These, of course, were only occasional jumps, never of long duration, and were apparently produced by gales of wind from the S.W. Our experience at the "Alert's" winter quarters was that a breeze of wind raised the temperature, and that our coldest weather was always registered on perfectly still and clear days! During boisterous tempestuous weather the pack, although stationary, moaned and groaned weirdly, as if unhappy gnomes, imprisoned in the cold grasp of the frozen sea, were bewailing their hard fate, and pleading for release from their icy fetters. The young ice, too, in the vicinity of the ship cracked in a most alarming manner, each crack being accompanied by a sharp and loud report, and formed great fissures, leaving the surface, which had hitherto been smooth and level, rugged and uneven. Well might the "Ancient Mariner," describing such a scene, say--

"It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound."

This movement of the ice, slight as it was, exposed the "Alert" to great pressure, and although it did not amount to an actual "nip," nor did it in any way cause injury to the ship, it made her list over several degrees. Now, as we in the ward-room were on a limited allowance of wine, namely two glasses a day, this heeling over of the vessel caused us great annoyance, as it prevented our glasses from being filled to the brim, a custom that had been rigidly followed out since leaving England. This curtailment of our "rights," as we were pleased to call them, was very naturally regarded with a certain amount of disfavour. In order to lessen, if we could not entirely rectify this evil, we supplied ourselves with ingeniously made little wedges, which, being placed under the _lee_ side of the wine-glass, brought it so nearly upright that we succeeded in very nearly getting our full allowance.

The birthdays of the officers were invariably celebrated by the best dinners that our indefatigable and energetic caterers could provide, always having in view the chance of the ship spending three winters in the Arctic Regions. As a special indulgence we were also allowed on these occasions a glass of port wine after dinner, a treat that we ordinarily had only twice a week. The composition of the _menus_ for these sumptuous feasts was always a subject of anxious care and forethought on the part of those who were entrusted with this important duty. Long and earnest were the consultations that were held, before one of them was satisfactorily composed and placed in the printer's hands.

MENU.

POTAGES. Mulligatawny.

POISSONS. Pégouse à la Couverture de Laine.[2]

ENTRÉES. Petits Pâtés d'Homard à la Chasse.[3] Rognons à la Pain rôti.

RELEVÉS. Mouton rôti à l'Anglais. Tongues on Gimbals.

ENTREMETS. Poudin aux Raisins. Blanc-manger à la Hummock. Petits Pâtés d'Hahis à la place d'Eccleston.

DESSERT. Poudin glacé à la Hyperborean. Figues. Noce. Gâteau à l'lrlandais. Café et Liqueur á la Jesson.

_November 11th_, 1875.

As we were living in a land in which little could be obtained in the way of change, the object was to diversify as much as possible the names of the same viands, so as to make the guests believe that the dinners were entirely different. The names given to some of the dishes were decidedly original. On the previous page is the first _printed_ bill of fare that was placed on the table.

Shortly after the ship had been established in winter quarters, a careful calculation was made of the amount of fresh meat we possessed.

By fresh meat, I mean meat of the musk-oxen and sheep that we had killed, and not the fresh _preserved_ meat, of which we had an ample supply. It was found we had sufficient to yield fourteen meals, at the rate of one pound per man per meal. It was, therefore, determined to issue a fresh meat meal twice every three weeks, and, at the doctor's recommendation, this was done on two consecutive days. In his opinion this method of apportioning it was the most conducive to health.

Beer, of which we had been provided with ten hogsheads specially brewed for us by Allsopp, was issued, so long as a cask was "on tap," twice a week. On these days half the allowance of spirits only was served out.

On Sundays Divine service was regularly performed between decks; the morning and evening services being read on alternate Sundays.

Prayers were read daily on the upper deck. The Holy Communion was celebrated on the first Sunday in every month. Considering the small number of men from among whom the choir was selected, and the necessarily slight amount of practice they could have, the singing at church was very creditable. Aldrich played the accompaniment on a harmonium that we had obtained from the ward-room officers of the "Valorous," before parting company with that ship at Disco. The credit of originating and instructing the choir was, of course, due to Pullen and Aldrich.

Medical inspections were held regularly on the first day of each month, when every officer and man was minutely questioned and examined. Nothing could be more satisfactory than the medical report of the sanitary condition of the men at the conclusion of these examinations.

The amount of compulsory open-air exercise that had to be taken by each man was two hours a day; but most of the men, that is to say all the working hands exclusive of cooks, stewards, and servants, were invariably at work, _outside_ the ship, for at least five hours a day. A very favourite and at the same time healthy pastime of the men in their leisure hours, when the moon was up, was that of "tabogganing." This consisted in dragging one of our small satellites or dog-sledges to the summit of a neighbouring hill, and then coming down, two or three on the sledge, at the rate of about sixty or seventy miles an hour! The men enjoyed this amazingly, and used to race one sledge against another. As they were not very expert in the management of these "taboggans," and had little confidence in their own steering, they would, when they saw there was a chance of their sledge coming to grief, tumble out and roll for some distance after it. Fortunately the snow was soft and they never came to harm.

Rawson, who had acquired a knowledge of this sport in Canada, was the first to introduce it in the far north. The dexterity with which he managed his "taboggan" was marvellous, and he would frequently, accompanied by one of his messmates, come down the steep side of one of the highest floe-bergs in the vicinity of the ship. Poor "Nellie" could never understand whence the motive power of these machines was derived, and used to rush round barking at us in a frantic manner when we first started, until left far behind plunging in the soft snow and struggling to keep pace with us.

It was wonderful how this dog withstood the cold. The colder the day the more she appeared to enjoy it, dashing about in the soft fine snow and picking up pieces of ice in her mouth for the purpose of having them thrown for her. It must be remembered that for any one of us to touch a piece of ice with the uncovered hand in a temperature 50° below zero would have been a very serious matter; yet Nellie was able, in the same temperature, to carry pieces of ice, or bits of metal or stone, in her mouth for hours together. The only cause of annoyance to the poor old doggie was the caking or balling of the snow between her toes, which used to trouble her a good deal. To obviate this, four little flannel moccasins were made for her feet; but, although she enjoyed wearing them and seemed to be proud of her appearance in them, they had to be discontinued, as we were afraid that the tying them on sufficiently tight to prevent their coming off might stop the circulation of the blood and thus produce frost-bite. On the whole, however, Nellie throve wonderfully well, and until the following summer enjoyed perfect health. She was my constant companion wherever I went, attending me during my walks, and lying curled up at my feet in the observatory during the long hours that I was employed taking magnetic observations. She always slept in an arm-chair in my cabin, being provided with her own little blanket, on which her name was embroidered.

Before concluding this chapter it will be as well to relate an interesting and rather curious incident connected with one of our Eskimo dogs.

In Aldrich's sledge journey to Cape Joseph Henry, one of his dogs (Sallie), being attacked with a fit, had to be cast off from the team and was no more seen by him during that journey.

On crossing the floe with my sledge party about a week after, we were suddenly joined, to our great surprise, by an Eskimo dog which the men readily recognized as Sallie; all our attempts to make her approach were unsuccessful, although she followed us at a distance during the day and hovered round our camp, picking up scraps of pemmican that had been purposely left out for her during the night. She eluded all attempts at being caught, running away on the ice and disappearing amongst the hummocks. She followed us faithfully, at a distance, until the day we returned to the ship, when she vanished altogether. She was last seen on the floe about four miles from the "Alert."

Amid the many preparations for the winter, poor Sallie was forgotten and had almost passed out of recollection altogether, when one day in December, more than _two_ months after she had been last seen, a strange dog was observed hovering round the ship. This strange dog proved to be the long-lost Sallie!

No amount of coaxing would persuade her to come near us, and she was eventually driven off by the other Eskimo dogs, and took refuge on the pack. On the following day she again made her appearance, and this time we succeeded in getting her on board and into a place of safety. She was terribly thin and emaciated; but being well cared for and attended to, she rapidly picked up, and was eventually the strongest and best dog in our whole team.

The question as to how she had existed during her long absence from the ship was a difficult one to solve. At first it was surmised that she had attached herself to a pack of wolves; but this idea was scouted, as no tracks had been seen to lead us to believe that these animals existed in our neighbourhood. It is not probable that she obtained anything from the ship during the time she was missing, or that she picked up scraps from the other dogs, for on her appearance she was at once driven away by her old companions. The only probable conclusion that we could arrive at was that she had supported life by hunting and feasting on lemmings, for the traces of these little animals were the only indications that we had of the existence, outside our own circle, of animal life.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Nelson served as a midshipman on board the "Carcass," in Captain Phipps' North Polar Expedition in 1773.

[2] Blanket wrappers were articles of wearing apparel.

[3] The name of the cook was Hunt.