CHAPTER XVII.

A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

The old year dies on southern skies, And leafless woods that moan and quiver; The shadows creep o'er ocean deep, And silent lake and rustling river; And all is gloom around the tomb Of wasted moments, lost for ever.

The new year gleams on silver streams, Where meadows smile in sunlit glances; The dark shades flee across the sea, And the wild wavelet laughs and dances; And all is bright where new-born light Brings hope to man and golden chances.

O happy year! that tells us here The same sweet, ever-welcome story, That soon, so soon! one radiant noon Shall plunge in light yon summits hoary, That point our way through endless day To joyous triumphs, home, and glory.

H. W. PULLEN,

H.M.S. "Alert,"

_January 1st_, 1876.

The above lines, composed by the poet laureate of the expedition, greeted us at the breakfast table on the morning of the 1st of January, 1876.

The New Year was ushered in with every demonstration of joy, gratitude, and hope by our little party assembled together, so far removed from the civilized world. We were joyful because a new year had dawned upon us in undiminished numbers; grateful for the many mercies that had been vouchsafed to us, and hopeful concerning our future prospects. We could not look back with regret upon the past year, for to us it had indeed been eventful; but officers and men looked forward to the coming year with feelings of confidence, resolutely determined faithfully to perform their duties, placing their trust in Him who had hitherto so well watched over and protected them, and firm in their reliance on His continued aid and support.

It is generally the custom in the navy to strike the bell sixteen times at midnight on New Year's eve--eight bells for the old year and eight bells for the new! Of course with us this custom was rigidly adhered to; but not only did we strike sixteen bells at _our_ midnight, but we also struck the same number at six minutes to eight, which, allowing for the exact difference in time, would be midnight in England, so that we had at least the satisfaction of knowing that our bell was being employed in the same way as many others in the navy at the same time.

Perhaps it may be interesting to my readers to know exactly how we received the New Year! I will, therefore, quote my remarks as they appear, word for word, in my journal.

"At five minutes to twelve, we all congregated round the ward-room table, on which was spread a sumptuous cold collation, consisting of a _real_ English ham, Bologna sausages, brawn, and sardines. Strong whiskey punch, in the brewing of which all had a share, was ladled out to each, and from the encomiums which were passed on its flavour and strength, the old proverb that 'too many cooks spoil the broth' was completely upset. As the bell struck, a neat little speech was made by our orator the doctor, the compliments of the season were wished to all, nor were those at home forgotten, our glasses were emptied, and then in true Highland fashion, with one foot on the table, the other on our chair, and with hands joined, we all sang 'Auld lang syne,' the drum and fife band accompanying us outside, the song being taken up by the men on the lower deck, who, true to their tastes, had been '_dancing_ out the old year.' Such was the manner in which the year 1876 was inaugurated in latitude 82° 27´ N., where no human being had ever welcomed a new year before."

A more cheerful, happy, and contented party it would be difficult to imagine anywhere; utterly oblivious of the solemn darkness and desolate sterility that prevailed without, they thought only of the "joyous triumph" that they hoped to achieve, and then of their return to old England. Everything wore a cheerful aspect. No leader could have more reason to be satisfied with the health and spirits of those under his command, than Captain Nares on the 1st of January, 1876.

On that morning, at the usual monthly medical inspection, he had the satisfaction of receiving the report that the men were in a better state of health than they were at the last examination. Appetites, which during mid-winter had been waning, had gradually returned. So contented were we, that many were actually pitying our friends in England, because they were unable to enjoy such delicious musk-ox beef as was put on our table for dinner on New Year's day!

Our first crop of mustard and cress was gathered on the 2nd of January. It was not an abundant one, but there was sufficient to give a mouthful to each person, and what little we had was certainly very refreshing. It had grown up devoid of all colour, and had a very _washed-out_ appearance. The garden was a small shallow box kept close to the ward-room stove. In consequence of the success attending this--our first--attempt at agriculture, several gardens were started, and we were enabled to issue, at different times, small quantities of this excellent antiscorbutic; though how far the loss of colour detracts from its medicinal qualities is a difficult problem to solve. Although the colour was absent, the fresh _taste_ appeared to remain, there being no perceptible difference between that grown on board the "Alert," and the same reared in the heat of the sun in more favoured climes. As a rule, the best crops were those grown on a blanket.

On the 8th and 9th of January we experienced a heavy gale of wind from the southward. It was impossible, whilst it lasted, to venture outside the ship, even to take the thermometric observations, although they could be registered only a few yards from the gangway: they had therefore to be discontinued during the time the gale lasted. It blew for forty-eight hours with relentless fury, when it exhausted itself in fitful gusts, more or less strong, until it abated altogether. The housing over the ship suffered sadly from this storm, several tons weight of snow having collected on it from the tremendous drift, in some places breaking it through, and in others "bagging" it down so as to render walking underneath an impossibility.

All our outdoor establishments were completely buried with snow, and we were compelled to send parties of men to excavate them, in order to effect an entrance at all. In fact, our men were for some time engaged in repairing the ravages of the storm. The accumulation of drift on the weather side of the ship was enormous, and took the form of a perfectly solid snow-wreath. This was caused by the eddying wind driving the snow from the side of the vessel to a distance of about four or five feet, where it settled, resembling a great frozen wave, whose curling crest was fully seven feet in height.

On the opposite, or lee, side of the ship the ice had cracked, leaving several large fissures, through which the water oozed and flowed over. The spring tides had also caused the ship to rise in her icy cradle, the greater part of the banking having, in consequence, slipped through between the edge of our dock and the ship's side and disappeared. This also had to be rectified. Our gale of wind had undoubtedly been productive of much extra work, irrespective of the anxiety and the by no means pleasant time spent, during its duration: for as yet our protecting bergs had not inspired us with absolute confidence regarding the shelter they might afford in such tempestuous weather as we had recently experienced. So well, however, did they answer our purpose during this gale, that all cause for anxiety was from that time removed, and for the future we felt as safe and as secure as if we had been frozen up in a well-sheltered and land-locked harbour.

When the wind was at its height, a piece of musk-ox meat, suspended in the mizzen-rigging, was blown down, and was, of course, at once assailed by the Eskimo dogs who had been admitted into the ship during the gale. Fortunately it was frozen so hard that they were unable to get their teeth through it, and although it had been some time in their clutches before it was rescued, little loss was sustained.

At noon on the 17th of January, a faint tinge of crimson, blended with a slight silvery streak of twilight, could be observed in the southern horizon, and although it was only of short duration, it became more decided and lasted for a longer time on each successive day. These bright harbingers of returning light were anxiously watched, and gladly were they welcomed as they assumed a more decided appearance.

Although there was no despondency or depression of spirits on board the "Alert," the monotony of the long dark nights could not but be felt, and we all eagerly looked forward to the time when the glorious rays from our bright, though long-absent, sun should again crown the summits of the distant hills with their sparkling and joyous light. All on board were interested for different reasons in the return of the sun: the sledge travellers, because it would bring light and heat to cheer and sustain them on their lonesome and arduous journeys, which they knew would be commenced as soon after its return as possible: the sportsmen regarded it as the precursor of game; and all hailed with delight the symbol of returning day and the assurance of the approaching termination of their long dark night. By the 1st of February, those gifted with sharp eyesight were just able to decipher a leading article in the _Times_ on the floe at noon. It was remarked that one of our officers afflicted with short-sightedness was able, by the dim twilight, to read not only with greater ease and accuracy than others, but also some days before them, and therefore by a dimmer light.

We had hitherto had no exceptionally severe weather; but during the latter part of January we experienced a foretaste of the intense cold that we were a month later destined to endure. With a temperature 50° below zero, it is necessary, when exposed to it, to keep the body in constant motion, otherwise a frost-bite will imperceptibly seize hold of one. On first emerging into this temperature a slight difficulty of breathing would be experienced, and tears would be involuntarily brought to the eyes, which immediately became small nodules of ice, and as such had to be extracted. This is hardly to be wondered at when it is remembered that we had to undergo a transition of temperature from our living-deck to the open air of over 100°! In spite of this cold, however, we were not much troubled with frost-bites, except on the face. Our dearly bought experience, during the autumn sledging, will account for our comparative immunity from these very troublesome and painful attacks.

Apropos of frost-bites it is related, that one of the members of the expedition, on getting up in the morning, during the cold weather, found, to his horror, that one of his toes and a part of his foot were quite black. Thinking he was severely frost-bitten, and wishing at once to assure himself of the fact by the only practical method that suggested itself at the time, he seized a pin, and made a furious dig at the supposed injured part. He very quickly found that, although discoloured, it was not totally devoid of all sensation, nor was the circulation of blood in any way impeded. The fact was, that his servant, on the previous day, had patched up his sock with a piece of fearnought, and, in order to assimilate the colour, had inked it over--which fully accounted for his terrible frost-bite!

It was our invariable custom to keep the hair, especially that growing on the face, as close as possible. In spite, however, of this precaution, it was impossible to prevent the breath from freezing on the short stubbly beard and moustache, which would soon be converted into a perfect mass of ice--a decidedly uncomfortable appendage. On returning from our short walks, we frequently found our cap, comforter, and collar of the coat frozen into one solid and compact mass.

Occasionally an amusing incident occurred to vary the sameness of our daily life, as the following story will show. During the darkest part of the winter one of the magnetic observers had occasion to visit the observatory. Taking his lantern, and accompanied by Nellie, he reached the door, which to his surprise was open. Supposing it to have been blown open by the wind, for it had been blowing very hard the previous night, he entered the long tunnel leading up to the Unifilar House. Before he had gone far a strong animal smell assailed his olfactory organs; this, with the fact of Nellie exhibiting great restlessness, induced him to examine the ground, when he clearly detected the traces of some animal, but of what description he was unable to decide.

He was now placed in rather an unpleasant position, for to advance head-foremost through a narrow passage into a small house in which a great Polar bear might have established himself, was to say the least a rash act; yet he was unwilling to return on board, and probably be for ever after chaffed by his messmates for being frightened at nothing. Putting on a bold front, he determined at all hazards to push on, and ascertain what the animal was that had dared to violate the sacred precincts of the observatory. As he advanced the peculiar odour became stronger, and he was sorely tempted to retreat, thinking discretion was the better part of valour. Arriving at the entrance to the house, however, he plucked up courage, and with the lantern well in front of him, and Nellie close at his heels, he dashed in, and there, lying down and looking almost as frightened as himself, was, not the great white bear that he expected to meet, but "Bruin," the largest of our Eskimo dogs, who, during the boisterous weather of the preceding night, had sought shelter in our observatory, and had no doubt found it a very snug and comfortable place, infinitely preferable to the bleak and exposed floe. It was a long time before the place was rid of the unpleasant smell peculiar to Eskimo dogs.

As the light increased day by day, the men were employed in re-embarking the stores and provisions landed, and in demolishing "Markham Hall." It was necessary to accomplish as much as possible, as Captain Nares well knew, before the departure of the sledging parties, for so few men would be left on board that little could be done during their absence, and there was no saying how soon after their return the ship would be able to break out of winter quarters. The Eskimo dogs were also now regularly fed and attended to. Hitherto they had been left to do pretty much as they liked, and their regular meals during the winter had been few, and served at uncertain times. Notwithstanding the small amount of food that was issued to them, they were all in capital condition, in fact a little too "fleshy" for dragging purposes, as they always received the scraps and surplus food from the allowance of the ship's company, and this was more than enough to keep a much larger pack of dogs than we possessed. They were also regularly exercised in dragging a light sledge, their day's work increasing as the days lengthened.

We could not but notice the sallowness of complexion which the returning light revealed, only too palpably, in the faces of our companions, caused by the long absence of the sun, and which had hitherto been unnoticed by the light of lamps and candles. Like our mustard and cress, we were devoid of all colour, yet apparently in good and sound health. There is something essentially health-preserving and life-giving in the rays of the sun, without which everything must wither and eventually die. This was, in the sequel, but too fully exemplified in our case. For although we were all in excellent spirits and supposed ourselves to be in perfect health, yet the seeds of that terrible disease, which subsequently crippled us so disastrously, must have already germinated unknown to ourselves.

But little did we suspect, at that time, the approach of the evil that eventually overtook us.

Many of the large floe-bergs near the ship were observed to be literally rent in twain, owing in all probability to the contraction of the ice by the intense cold--the outer part of the floeberg being exposed to a greater cold than the interior. These rents will also account for the loud sharp reports that were frequently heard during the winter, and which were for some time wrapped in mystery.

Towards the end of February a few hares were seen, and two or three were shot; but they were very timid and shy, and seldom gave our sportsmen opportunities of exhibiting their prowess. Lemming tracks were abundant, and occasionally these little animals would be seen running along the snow. Nellie regarded them as being created for her especial enjoyment in hunting, and would vainly endeavour to unsnow them after they had taken refuge in their holes. Woe betide the unfortunate little lemming observed by Nellie at any distance from its habitation. A dash, a gobble, and all was over! In vain did we try to break her of these murderous propensities, not only for the sake of the victims but also for herself, as the swallowing of little balls of fur cannot be conducive to health. All was futile! Nellie considered the chase of these little creatures as an undoubted privilege with which no one should interfere.

The long twilight enabled us to extend our rambles, and we visited the snow hut built by Rawson last autumn when attempting to get south, about five or six miles from the ship, and in which he had deposited a small quantity of provisions. To our surprise we discovered that, with the exception of the pemmican which was in a tin, and the tobacco, all had disappeared! Biscuit, bacon, tea, sugar, and cocoa, all had gone. A hole through the roof of the house pointed at once to the means of ingress; but who were the thieves? Foxes or wolves had not been seen, nor had any traces of them been observed!

Even supposing these animals to be the depredators, how did they effect their escape from the house after once they had got in? It was simple enough to scrape a hole through the roof and jump down; but it was not so easy to jump straight up a height of six or seven feet through a small hole! Suspicion fell for some time on our long-missing dog Sallie; but it was never satisfactorily ascertained whether dog, wolf, or fox was the culprit. Of one thing there could be no doubt. The robbery had been committed by a very cunning and intelligent beast. Spots of blood on the pemmican tin showed unmistakeably that this also had been attempted, but had proved too hard and strong. The tracks, which were always to and from the floe, were too indistinct to enable us to make out the nature of the animal, but the general idea was that it was a fox.

Of course, with returning daylight, the serious work of sledging and the preparations for the spring campaign occupied our attention to the exclusion of almost everything else. On Saturday, the 26th of February, our school assembled for the last time, the classes being dismissed in the evening only to reassemble again if the ship spent another winter away from England. It would not be fair to dismiss our pupils without a word of commendation. Their attendance was most regular, and their efforts to learn beyond all praise. Nothing could exceed their diligence, nor excel their desire to please and reflect credit upon their masters, and I do hope that many will have benefited by the instruction they received in their Arctic school.

On Thursday, the 24th of February, was performed our last dramatic entertainment. The following was the programme.

ROYAL ARCTIC THEATRE.

H.M.S. "Alert."

Thursday, 24th February, 1876.

[finger symbol] Last performance of the season.

GRAND REPRESENTATION of the Original pathetico-comico-burlesque operetta entitled the LITTLE VULGAR BOY, or WEEPING BILL.

Founded on the celebrated Ingoldsby Legend, "Misadventures at Margate."

Written expressly for the occasion by the Rev. H. W. PULLEN.

Scenery by Professor Moss, M.D. Music by Lieut. Aldrich. Manager: Lieut. May.

Preceded by

Reading "The Blessed Babies" Mr. Hunt. Song "Fie, for shame" Mr. Symons.

CHARACTERS:

Mr. Brown, an old buffer, slightly green Commander Markham.

Mrs. Jones, a landlady, slightly cross, but with a keen eye to business G. Le C. Egerton, Esq.

Jack Robinson; a seafaring man, slightly figurative in his language, and violently in love with Mrs. Jones Lieut. Giffard.

Weeping Bill, a little vulgar boy, slightly out at elbows, and fairly sharp for his age Lieut. Rawson.

K 55, the irrepressible Bobby, slightly self-important, and the natural enemy of Weeping Bill Rev. H. W. Pullen.

Scenes 1 and 3 The Jetty at Margate. Scenes 2 and 4 Mrs. Jones's lodgings.

To commence at 7.30 precisely.

God save the Queen.

Messrs. Giffard and Symons, Printing office, Trap Lane.

This piece, as set forth in the bill, was written expressly for the occasion by Pullen, and not only did he compose it, but he also assisted in its performance. It was a very successful hit, and was most deservedly applauded, loud cries of "Author" following the fall of the curtain.

The ensuing Thursday witnessed the last of our "Thursday Pops," and this terminated our season's festivities. At it Captain Nares delivered a very able and instructive lecture on his sledging experiences, bringing a few "facts" home to the men, as to the sort of work they were about to perform, and the kind of life they would have to lead. His announcement that we should, in all probability, spend another winter in the Arctic Regions was hailed with delight. He also announced his intention of returning to England before the third winter, provided no unforeseen event happened to detain the expedition.

The following was the programme for the evening's entertainment.

THURSDAY POPS.

H.M.S. "Alert."

[finger symbol] _Positively the last entertainment this winter._

March 2, 1876.

The season's festivities will terminate with the following programme:--

1. The Palæocrystic Sea and Sledging Experiences Capt. Nares. 2. Ballad . . "The _Shannon_ and the _Chesapeake_" Mr. Cane. 3. Song . . "Susan's Sunday out" Mr. Stuckberry. 4. Reading . "Two Bab Ballads" Rev. H. W. Pullen. 5. Ballad. . "Over the Sea" Mr. Maskell. 6. Song . . "Rummy old Codger" Mr. Pearce. 7. Ballad. . "Seeing Nelly home" Mr. Self. 8. Recitation . "On the Arctic Expedition, by J. D." Sergt. Wood. 9. Song . "Billy Woods the grocer" Mr. Gore. 10. Ballad . "Beating of my own heart" Mr. Ayles. 11. Part Song . "O who will o'er the downs so free" Messrs. Aldrich, Pullen, May, and Wootton.

To conclude with the grand Palæocrystic Sledging Chorus, by the entire strength of the house.

To commence at 7.30 precisely.

God save the Queen.

Messrs. Giffard and Symons, Printing office, Trap Lane.

This chapter would be incomplete without the words of the "Grand Palæocrystic Sledging Chorus."

This was also composed by our talented poet laureate, and was most enthusiastically received by the whole ship's company, who vociferously joined in singing it on all appropriate, and other, occasions.

It brought in the names of all the sledges that were employed in the early part of the spring campaign, and became henceforth, as it were, the "Arctic National Anthem."

CHORUS.

Not very long ago, On the six-foot floe Of the palæocrystic sea, Two ships did ride, Mid the crashing of the tide-- The _Alert_ and the _Discovery_.

The sun never shone The gallant crews upon For a hundred and forty-two days; But no darkness and no hummocks Their merry hearts could flummox: So they set to work and acted plays.

There was music and song To help the hours along, Brought forth from the good ship's store; And each man did his best To amuse and cheer the rest: And "nobody can't do more."

AIR--"The _Shannon_ and the _Chesapeake_."

Here's a health to _Marco Polo_[1]-- May he reach his northern goal, oh! And advance the flag of England into realms unknown! May the _Challenger_[2] be there, All comers bold to dare, And _Victoria_[3] be victorious in the frozen zone!

May our _Poppie_[4] be in sight, With her colours streaming bright, And the _Bulldog_[5] tug on merrily from strand to strand! And the _Alexandra_[6] brave See our banner proudly wave O'er the highest cliffs and summits of the northernmost land!

Here's a health to _Hercules_,[7] Whom the autumn blast did freeze, And all our gallant fellows whom the frost laid low! Just wait a little longer, Till they get a trifle stronger, And they'll never pull the worse because they've lost a toe.

Here's a health, with three times three, To the brave _Discovery_,[8] And our merry, merry guests, so truly welcome here! And a brimming bumper yet To our valiant little pet-- The lively _Clements Markham_,[9] with its bold charioteer!

Here's a health to all true blue, To the officers and crew Who man this Expedition neat and handy, oh! And may they ever prove, Both in sledging and in love, That the tars of old Britannia are the dandy, oh!

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Commander Markham's sledge.

[2] Lieut. Aldrich's sledge.

[3] Lieut. Parr's sledge.

[4] Lieut. Giffard's sledge.

[5] Dr. Moss's sledge.

[6] Mr. White's sledge.

[7] Lieut. May's sledge.

[8] Lieut. Rawson's sledge.

[9] Mr. Egerton's sledge.