Littell's Living Age/Volume 126/Issue 1621/The Arctic Ships
THE ARCTIC SHIPS.
It was particularly pleasant to go to Portsmouth while all the world was at Epsom, and to visit the Arctic ships when visitors were not expected, and there was no crowd. The journey was not a little suggestive, — through the plains of gold and purple into which the buttercups and the clover divide the southeastern country just now, by the hedgerows rich with broom, and the commons decked with golden gorse; past paths where the forest trees are laden with such foliage as even in England is rarely seen; and gardens where the white and pink hawthorn linger, and the beautiful rose-coloured chestnuts are in full blow. No more complete contrast could be conceived than that between the scene which the explorers are leaving, and that which they are going to; a contrast which grows upon one's fancy, and brings back all the tales of Arctic adventure in which one has taken delight, from Mary Howitt's "Northern Seas," to Captain Markham's "Whaling Cruise in Baffin's Bay." Arrived at the dockyard, one's expectations are completely fulfilled; there is no crowd, no noise, no hurry, everybody looks leisurely, and the sun shines, not too strongly, on the harbour. There lie the Arctic ships, and one's first feeling is of disappointment. They are so small! It takes a little time to get over this, and some contemplation of the huge, ugly monsters by which the "Alert" and the "Discovery" are dwarfed, — great lumps which would be enough to take the poetry out of a poet, lying black, heavy, and sailless on the dark-green water. "Nasty, great, sprawlin' things!" says a young person with very pink cheeks and a bundle, who has lingered a moment to look round before being led on board the "Discovery" by a fine young fellow in a sailor's dress; and the description which she utters in a tone of contempt, as if she were alluding to cockroaches, is strikingly correct. There is a little comfort in being shown the "Bellerophon" — it, at least, is not new-fangled — and in perceiving that the "Valorous," lying at a little distance, with a good deal of stir on her decks, and a pleasant sound of cranks and ropes and chanting voices, is a graceful, ship-like ship. The "Discovery" is the nearest of the Arctic ships, and one goes on board her first, and finds oneself in a scene of extraordinary activity and apparent confusion, all the more interesting if one does not know anything practically about things maritime. Immediately, the notion that the ship is small goes off, to be replaced by an appreciation of its strength, its commodiousness, and the extraordinary ingenuity which is displayed in the employment of every inch of space, and the securing of every conceivable comfort to the officers and men. Looking up through the light rigging, one has one's attention directed to a kind of barrel, painted white, at the side of the mainmast, and near the top, and being told that it is "the crow's nest," has instant visions of the look-out among the ice-floes, and of the great whales captured by the crews of the "Discovery," before she was promoted from the service of commerce to that of science. The deck is heaped with ropes, chains, rough boxes, maritime odds and ends of every description, and to non-nautical eyes, even if everything were all right "below there," being ready to sail on Saturday seems an impossibility; but the expression of a doubt is met with the kindliest amusement, and an assurance that sailors can "tidy up" wonderfully when they set to with a will.
"Below," but very near the deck, are the engines, and remarkably like vast ornamental beer-casks they look, in their brass-bound polished casings, on perforated iron floors. The flues and pipes which are conducted from the engine-room into all the ship, the arrangements for warming, the cooking-apparatus, and the provision against danger of fire, are as perfect as ingenuity combined with simplicity can make them, and it is especially pointed out to visitors that everything of metal which must come in contact with the hand is covered with leather. The officer's cabins are marvels of convenience, and adornment too; the contrivances for stowing-away are pointed out with pride, while one takes a furtive peep at the book-shelves, and little supplementary book-crammed nooks in corners, with an awful sense of wh it it must be to have all one can possibly get to read for three years under one's eyes all at once. "Presents!" says a jolly voice close by; "we've had more presents than we can carry; there'll be a lot of 'em left behind. What should you say this was, now?" The speaker is a jovial person "in a low neck" (as a little girl described a gallant tar who carried her across the gangway), and he is sitting astride of a huge deal box, with a lengthy address upon it, which he thumps heartily as he asks the question. Of course no one can guess, so he explains, with immense delight, as if wintering at the North Pole were merely a picnic, that "in that ere box there's the Christmas dinner — beef, and turkeys, and tongues, all cooked and ready." The doors of some of the lockers are open, and reveal endless quantities of tins wrapped in pink paper, — there are pictures, an elegant writing-table, all "made fast;" a reading-lamp, and a scarlet and gold vide-poche, and the panelled passage between the cabins is red and gold. Very natty is the little domain of "the naturalist," where a pigeon-holed space beneath the upper deck is prepared for the "specimens" he will bring us from the uttermost parts of the earth, and a case of mysterious glass things lies open on the floor. Hammer, chisel, saw, and pincers are busy, shavings and sawdust abound; but the pretty saloon is clear and clean, and the crew's quarters beyond, where cooking is going on busily, are interesting to see, for here the arrangements for economizing warmth and space are most ingenious. A cheerful company are there, augmented while the visitors look on by a few sailors, who swing themselves easily down from the upper deck, and drop noiselessly into their places. In one group we recognize the young person with the pink cheeks and the bundle. She is seated very close to the fine young fellow who took her on board, and she has undone the bundle, which proves to be a small and solemn baby. It lies on its father's lap now (while he and the young mother discuss a hearty meal), with open, unwinking eyes, and looks as if it could tell him a thing or two about the Arctic Regions, or even the other world. They are very jolly, indeed; so is every one on board, to the surprise of a lady present, who cannot get away from the idea that they are all to be lost sight of for two years at least, after the "Valorous" shall have returned from escorting them to the border of the Ice Kingdom, and who asks one handsome young man, who is explaining the harpoon gun to his sweetheart, whether he has ever been to the North before? "No further than North Shields, ma'am," he answers with ready drollery. The stores are wonderful to contemplate; it is so difficult to believe that they are really "something to eat;" they look like anything else in the world — like leather portmanteaus, for instance — and the packing of them is a miracle of art. A mere glimpse of the innermost recesses of the ship reveals the vast quantities it carries en bloc, and the immense material for the purposes of the expedition; in the "museum," each article can be inspected in detail. The visitor has the great thickness of the ship, her four casings of stout, seasoned timber, her straight bow, and the apparatus of the ice-saw especially explained to him; and at the entrance of the museum, this formidable instrument is set up, with its poles, just as it would be outside the ship's bow, so that it is easy to understand how, as the steamer grinds against the stubborn barrier, the irresistible iron-toothed bar, worked up by handles from the deck, but descending by its own weight, rends and scatters the ice before it. There is little difference between the two ships, and none in the completeness and comfort of their fittings. "They didn't use to go No'th like that formerly," observed an old gentleman of nautical cut, but evidently unattached, to a visitor, as he stepped ashore from the "Alert." He seemed not half to like it, and to entertain a notion that if any of the ancients of the Arctic seas were "about" in spirit, they might not like it either. But he was somewhat reconciled when it was observed to him in reply, "But they didn't use to come home at all, formerly."
On an inspection of the museum, one is additionally reminded of the difference between the conditions of this and a preceding Arctic expeditions by the inventions in clothing and in cooking-apparatus. The large and small cooking-kettles, with a method of melting the snow for water, the spirit-lamps, the pemmican-tins (sweet pemmican is not nasty, even when one is not hungry), all are admirable, and if one could only feel as well satisfied about the sledges and the tents as about the food and the means of preparing it, one would not contemplate the Arctic regions with much apprehension of suffering for our explorers. But Dr. Rae's letter makes one look at those marvels of contrivance and construction, the eight-man sledges, and the tents, with their windows and their ventilators, and at the sleeping-bags and duffle-coats, with some misgivings. However, there is always the consolation of remembering that the explorers can substitute snow-huts for tents if they choose, and alter their sleeping-arrangements according to their experience. A few of the articles exhibited, for instance, a carriage to be used on the ice, one must regard as merely ornamental or experimental; but the great majority are of serious usefulness and value, and the ready-packed sledges, with the baggage and food, for parties varying in number from five to twelve, are most interesting. A lay-figure attired in the full Arctic costume looks comfortable, and quite handsome in comparison with the diver in full dress, of whom he reminds one at a first glance.
The perfection of the arrangements is not more impressive to the visitor than is the aspect of the crews. They were all in on Wednesday, and seeing them generally, working or standing about, no one could fail to be struck with their appearance. Health, strength, youth, good looks, these are their characteristics, and the care that has been bestowed upon their selection will, no doubt, be rewarded. It is understood that the "Alert" is "to go to the Pole," so people in "the yard" talked of it as a matter of course, and the "Discovery" to remain in Smith Sound as a depot-ship; but there are ardent admirers of "the Dis" who tell you in confident confidence that they are certain she, too, will make a dash for it. That they will all do their best, and that their "best" is a big word, no one doubts, any more than that they will carry much pride and hope of their countrymen with them, when the explorers shall sail away from May sunshine in England towards the Polar night.