Chapter X

LICHTENAU. EXCURSION TO THE ISLAND OF UNARTOK. JOURNEY TO
JULIANESHAAB.[31]

Departure from Nennortalik.--Igdlopait.--Mission in
Igdlopait.--Arrival in Lichtenau.--Greenland women.--Mode of
Life in Lichtenau.--Message from Julianeshaab.--Determination
to remain still in Lichtenau.--Evening service.--Excursion to
the Island of Unartok.--Warm springs there.--Another message
from Julianeshaab.--Prospect of returning home.--Parting
presents.--Departure from Lichtenau.--Arrival in Julianeshaab.

Cheerfully we started the next morning, with a favourable breeze. The straits between the island Sermesok were rapidly passed through, past Tessermiut and Unartok Fjords as they are all called. By noon we had reached Igdlopait. This island is a branch of the Lichtenau mission. A missionary with wife and children lives here amongst eighty natives. As our boat neared the island, the shore became alive with people; here no one had an idea of our visit. Mr. Starick related our story to the crowd assembled on the banks in a few words, and went before us up to the mission. Mr. Starick’s speech raised the people’s interest in us. An old grey-headed Greenlander held out his hand to me, saying, “I thank God with you that He saved you so wonderfully, and brought you to us.” Igdlopait, the youngest of the mission stations under the care of Mr. Warmow, is in a lonely situation on an island. The inhabitants are dirty and filthy to a degree. The men’s skin-clothes were torn, and the women were going about with wild unkempt hair.

The mission-house, neat and attractive, with a grey slate roof, seemed to invite us hospitably. A smooth road led from the village to the dwelling of the missionary, Mr. Hilbig. He was not at home, but had gone with his colleague from Lichtenau to the Fjord, to collect wood for the winter. His wife, a friendly countrywoman, welcomed us heartily. Not less amiable was Mrs. Warmow from Lichtenau, who happened to be on a visit to her. In order to provide for our unexpected quartering, Mrs. Warmow decided to return at once with us. We were really sorry to leave Mrs. Hilbig alone in Igdlopait. What a task, what deprivations does the wife of a Greenland missionary take upon herself one may imagine, by picturing the loneliness which surrounds a missionary’s family on a barren island in the Arctic Sea, bare of trees and shrubs, among a rough people but little susceptible of civilization, natives whose culture and salvation they unceasingly sacrifice themselves to promote. A few goats and hens form her only companionship. Even the blossom and fruit of family life the poor settlers dare only half enjoy, for custom and order demand that, when the missionaries’ children are about seven years old, they shall be sent to Europe to be brought up in a school of the fraternity. They do not see their parents again for many years, when they have become comparative strangers to them.

_Page 207._

LICHTENAU, MISSION-STATION IN SOUTH-WEST GREENLAND.]

We would not stay longer than was necessary; and as Mrs. Warmow could not be dissuaded from accompanying us, we started in the boats at four in the afternoon. Without a guide it would have been impossible to have gone any distance, as a thick fog had fallen, which in Greenland happens invariably with the north wind.

In about three hours we had reached Lichtenau. This is the oldest South Greenland German Mission (it was founded in 1772), and lies four miles inwards in the Lichtenau Fjord, which stretches thirty-two miles beyond it. On a small half-island, crowned with a rocky plateau, stands the mission and the native village, the huts of which are grouped around the rocks in the form of an amphitheatre.

The mission-house of Lichtenau is the largest we have seen. Three missionaries work here: Mr. Warmow (as superintendent), and Messrs. Spindler and Kögel. Like that of Friedrichsthal, it is made of wood, and is only one story high. On the ground-floor is a large schoolroom, kitchen, store-room, and guest-room; up one flight of stairs the friendly and comfortable dwelling of the missionary. A small vegetable garden lies in front of the house. On one side of the road stands the old decaying church, and on the other storehouses and stables. The harbour is very comfortable, and allows the boats to lie steady on the soft sand. As we neared Lichtenau we were at once seen, as the fog had rolled on to the land, and every one ran down to the strand to see the strangers from far distant Europe. Although the greater part of the inhabitants of Lichtenau were out at the seal fishery, there were more at home than there were at Friedrichsthal; and we were soon convinced that the Greenlander, left to himself, would never appreciate the comfort and advantage of German cleanliness. We were filled with horror at the sight of some old crones, whom curiosity had allured from their huts. The features of the young girls and women are, according to our æsthetic opinions, far below the level of the agreeable, and the bodily mien is more repulsive than attractive. The dress of the Greenland women differs little from that of the men. They wear boots covered with gaudy leather embroidery, which reach to the knee; short drawers of sealskin, which without straps are hung around the hips, fitting closely to the body; and the coat-of-mail shaped “Natzek,” pointed before and behind, which proceeds from the fur round the body. The narrow drawers compel them to walk with bent knees and body bent forward, shuffling one foot before the other, giving them somewhat the appearance of apes. If this in itself is not nice, imagine a pair of old crones, with all the burden and deformity of old age; and added to that, broad, wrinkled faces, with noses smeared thickly with snuff, and bleared eyes, surrounded with disordered fluttering grey hair! I made as large a détour as possible, to avoid the crowd, in advancing to meet the approaching missionary, Mr. Spindler, and his kind wife, who welcomed us heartily, and expressed their pleasure in receiving such an unexpected visit from countrymen. Mr. Spindler, a very intelligent and learned man, who gave us much information on Greenland affairs, is in the prime of life, and seems not yet to be quite acclimatized. Mrs. Spindler, a lively talkative woman, provided for us as well as she could. The mission-house shelters three missionaries and their families. Only Mr. Spindler was at home, his two colleagues having gone to fetch wood from the Lichtenau Fjord: whilst the northern lying coast, namely the neighbourhood of Lichtenfels, receives every year a considerable quantity of drift-wood from the Arctic current, the missionaries in the south are obliged to bring all necessary firing, partly from Europe, partly from the inside of the Fjord, and often from a great distance. The birch[32] and willow[33] are seldom seen on the outlying islands, and on the shore of the mainland are very scant of growth; but the farther one gets into the Fjord they become stranger and stouter, and the banks of inlets are often covered with a considerable quantity of brushwood as high as a man. This in the summer months is gathered, and often conveyed many days’ journey; for the source of supply is yearly more and more distant, owing to the slowness of the growth. European coals have long since had to help, as the moss here and there met with cannot be used.

Like the firewood, the winter fodder for the live stock (Lichtenau possesses three oxen and some goats) has to be fetched with difficulty from a distance. The few small grass plats, which give a scanty crop of hay, lie miles apart, and often just as far from the mission. All this business is attended to by the missionaries and their wives; and during the short summer they are absent weeks together. Mr. Spindler wished at once to send for his colleague from the Fjord; but as we intended leaving the next day, in order to reach Julianeshaab in time to find the ship, we of course did not consent.

Jonathan reappeared at last. He had, as the missionaries had premised, made all speed; but he had been delayed by the fog. His answer by word of mouth from the captain of the Danish ship was, that we were to come, and he would take us all with him. He also brought a letter from the Governor of the colony, which was very laconic: “The German Arctic Explorers could not sail in the Constance, as she must start at once, having to make another voyage to Greenland.” It further said, that we had better go on to Ivikät; that there we might meet with a vessel which would take us up. Of the possibility of the next expected ship, the Peru, granting us a passage, there was not one word. There we sat, but little edified by the amiability of the Danish official, consulting as to what we should do. In about three weeks the Peru might arrive; but the missionaries were of opinion that, from national considerations, we had less chance of a passage by this ship. But in any case, to travel to Ivikät by the boats would be very difficult; added to which, according to our calculations, it would take us at least ten days, supposing that the favourable weather we had previously had should still accompany us. And now the further question arose, should we, above all, find a ship there, which would take us? and, if so, what sort of one? Long we consulted. At last we decided, that as in any case we must now claim help from the mission-station, the head of the house should be called in from the Fjord, and as he should advise, so we would act.

Again Mr. Starick and Mr. Hildebrandt undertook the boat journey. Dr. Laube would this time have liked to have been of the party, but for a long time past he had felt too unwell, and preferred remaining at home. That same evening some young fellows arrived in a boat from Julianeshaab on their way to Nennortalik. They thought they could not allow the opportunity to pass without obtaining at least a handful of tobacco, and, if possible, something to eat. As they had heard from Jonathan on the way of us and his mission, they improvised the message--we were to come to Julianeshaab at once, and take ship in the Constance.

Their object, however, they did not attain, for the missionaries knew the men too well not to know what such a message was worth.

The next morning the boat brought back Mr. Warmow and the messengers. The “Isersarnak,” or wind of the Fjord, which always blows inward, had helped him much on the outward journey, but had made the homeward much more difficult. Directly after breakfast we held a consultation. Mr. Warmow thought it better to waste no more words on the Dane, but try and take passage in a Kryolite ship from Ivikät.[34] The journey to that place he admitted to be very difficult, and he thought it unadvisable to begin it at once. He suggested that we should have a good rest at Lichtenau, and in about eight days start for Ivikät. Mr. Warmow’s kind proposition pleased us. We consented all the more readily as he promised to accompany us, Mr. Starick being compelled by time and circumstances to begin his return journey to Friedrichsthal as soon as possible. The proposal was therefore agreed to.

And now I hoped to have an opportunity of scouring the neighbourhood. An excursion for the next day to the Island of Unartok and the Unartok Fjord, with a lodging at Igdlopait, was agreed upon. To-day (it was Sunday) we remained at home. As the greater part of the population were away, there was no early morning prayer; but evening united us all in the schoolroom for a short service.

It was a very strange spectacle that we here witnessed. In the old, decaying, plain-looking room, which might have been taken for a barn, if the small organ, some wind instruments, the benches, and a green covered table had not stamped it as something else, we sat with the missionaries’ wives on either side of the preacher; before us, on the benches, the native men and women, and our people. Near the preacher and ourselves stood the children. The service began with a Greenland hymn, which was sung by those present in the usual drawling manner, but otherwise very nicely. Then a sermon in their native tongue. The adult natives followed the discourse very devoutly; the children seemed but little impressed, and passed the time in amusing themselves. After the Greenland sermon followed a German hymn, which we sang badly enough without accompaniment, and then the preacher addressed a few earnest words to us which did not fail of their effect. In simple words, he thanked the Most High for our preservation; then a hymn, and it was over.

The excursion was carried out the next day. The Island of Unartok, which is about twelve miles from Lichtenau, particularly interested us, because of the warm spring there. It had been mentioned by Ivar Bardsen, the ancient Northman chronicler, who wrote in the beginning of the fifteenth century upon the Norse settlements in Greenland. According to his account, a Benedictine nunnery stood in the neighbourhood; and the spring, which in winter was much hotter than in summer (it may have steamed more in the chilly atmosphere) was then much used by the colonists as a bath. By noon we had reached the island. Some natives, who met us on the way, had, doubtless to the neglect of their daily labour, preferred following us.

The island, like the rest of Greenland, is entirely barren and desolate, rather flat towards the north-east, but rising in a hilly chain to the south-west. Nowhere could we discover any trace of a building. One would scarcely fancy that a monastery, according to our notions, could in the course of time so utterly and entirely disappear from the face of the earth. Only the supposition that the ancient Northmen erected their buildings similarly to the missionaries of the present day, of wood, and that when deserted by the inhabitants the natives broke them up when necessary and carried them elsewhere, could, give the statement of the Northman chronicler any semblance of truth.

The warm spring is, however, there. On the western strand, scarce a gunshot from the shore, is a shallow basin twenty feet in diameter and three feet deep, covered with fine granitic sand. The water issues from the ground in three places, emitting, at the same time, an odourless gas. The temperature of the spring, according to my spirit bulb thermometer, was 93° 87′ Fahr. About twenty paces westward, and somewhat higher, lies a second smaller spring, which is deeper and full of stones. The whole surface is covered thickly with a slimy, yellowish brown deposit, evidently of vegetable origin. The temperature of this spring I found to be 102° 87′ Fahr. The water had a slightly alkaline taste, and left a white precipitate. The higher temperature of the soil, caused by the springs, is shown by the fresh vegetation which in a small circle surrounds both basins, forming a pleasant contrast to the dead aspect of the other part. The green land is a spot which reminds us of our native meadows. Watercresses, orchids, wild buttercups, and other meadow flowers showed their gay heads, and on the edges of the spring basin grew a species of reed which reminded us of our pond-reed at home.

At the present day the spring is but little used as a bath. The natives, of course, never think of giving their persons the benefit of a bath, and the missionaries seldom visit this outlying island. Besides, the draught of cold air towards the basin deprives one of all pleasure in bathing. After supplying myself with a sample of the water and some pieces of rock, which to the natives seemed a strange proceeding, we left the island, to make another visit to Unartok to see the so-called “soft-stone” rock mineral. This stone (veegsteen) is a species of talc, of great importance in a Greenland household, and formerly still more so. Before pottery was known, “soft-stone” was the only material out of which they carved their household vessels; and even now, although Danish ore provides iron and copper utensils, they make pans and saucepans from it. Above all, it is necessary for the construction of their lamps. This lamp is a crescent-shaped stone, hollowed out and fastened to a low three-legged wooden stand. The shallow depth is filled with train oil, which is furnished in the following manner:--the person who prepares the lamp takes a piece of seal blubber in his mouth, and with wonderful dexterity sucks out all the oil, and squirts it into the lamp. Then some dry moss is strewn over as a wick, and pressed tight to the concave edge and lighted. This lamp, which gives both light and heat (for they even prepare their meals by it) is, of course, to be found in every house, and is (so to speak) the symbol of Greenland family-life, for all gather round it. Weights for angling are also cut out of “soft-stone,” and it is interesting to know that the Northmen made similar use of this material. The stone, however, is not common; somewhat plentiful in North Greenland, it is seldom met with in the southern districts, and is often brought from the north. East Greenland is not quite wanting in it, as the name of an island under the Kolbergerheide Glacier proves; it is called Okusiksak, which in the Greenland tongue means “soft-stone.”

This Fjord, not so deep as its neighbours, is surrounded by a beautiful panorama. At its end opens a ravine which allows a wide prospect. By keeping a straight course along this narrow valley one could reach Friedrichsthal, but from the necessity of climbing over numerous fallen rocks and other difficulties, the way by water is preferred.

Scarcely had our boat entered the Fjord than the apparently desert shore became alive. Inhabitants of Lichtenau and Igdlopait were here, stationed on the herring fishery; and as just at that time there were none to catch, the whole community were idling in their accustomed manner. Our arrival brought them to their feet, and soon they were at the shore calling and screaming against one another, and first one and then another wanting to show us a good landing-place. It was with much trouble that we could keep them from the boat, as they wished to drag it, with us in it, along the stony rugged strand. Of course all of them followed us on our way to the “soft-stone” rock, except a few old crones, who, being no longer able to walk over the rough ground, set themselves to prepare a dainty meal of herrings for us. At the “soft-stone” rock itself there was little to be seen, for the natives had long since so cut away the block that it scarcely rose above the ground; and so we thought it better to travel onwards without waiting for the dainty meal prepared for us by the old women, who, however, were not at all offended, but eat it themselves. Not so easy was it to leave the Fjord as to enter it. The Isersarnak blew strongly against us, and it took many strokes of the oars and much time ere we saw Igdlopait. We decided to spend the whole of the next day on the island, and enjoy once more the hospitality of Mrs. Hilbig. Amongst other things, Mrs. Hilbig set before us at the evening meal a dish peculiar to Greenland: young shoots of the Angelica steeped in vinegar and sugar. This piquant aromatic food, which would do honour to any great table, had our full appreciation, and the good beer no less, which awaited us once more on this desert rocky island. Our amiable hostess rejoiced in our blessed hunger and thirst; but the times of Friedrichsthal were happily over, so without being brought into difficulties by too great a hunger, we sought our nightly couch, which we prepared by placing side by side the forms in the church.

Of Igdlopait and its hospitable mission-house, however, we were to see no more. As we were at breakfast the following morning, a Kajak post arrived from Lichtenau. We were to go thither immediately. A message had arrived from Julianeshaab that the Constance was waiting for us, and would take us all! What could now tempt us to remain a moment? We departed at once. Filled with thankfulness, we bade good-bye to our kind hostess, who participated in our joy. With tearful eyes she sent her greetings to those at home, whither her heart so often turned from this desert strand. Returned to Lichtenau, our people were in an excited state of mind. The news forwarded to Igdlopait had been overtaken by a fresh message from Julianeshaab, by which Captain Bang informed us that, being detained by the ice, he had only reached Pardleet, an island near Julianeshaab, where he at first thought of waiting for us, but had now gone on to Julianeshaab to take in provisions, and by unloading some oil make room for us. What kissing and rejoicing there was amongst us, as the glad tidings spread that now we should soon have started on our homeward journey. Whilst our good hostess was busy preparing a plentiful meal in the kitchen, Mr. Warmow was looking after provisions for the boat; and that we might never forget our stay in Lichtenau, there was placed before us quite a number of beautiful little souvenirs, to remind us of our kind entertainers. We returned these kindnesses as well as we could; and as, when once having reached Julianeshaab and the Constance we no longer needed our boats, we gave one to the missionaries of Lichtenau. Several of the musical-boxes, too, which, in spite of many hard knocks, were still sound, we divided among the missionaries; and those of our weapons, too, which we did not want, we left to our kind, hospitable friends.

It was high noon when we took leave of our hosts. Again the whole population were on the strand: the men did not cease firing their guns, and others sat in their canoes ready to give us their escort. Amidst hurrahs and farewell greetings, the travellers began their journey. Once more we were to be terrified by the malice of an iceberg. Before the harbour of Lichtenau lay some small, malicious, jagged bergs. Some were so weak that the natives’ shooting put them in danger of demolition, but one in its last moments would fain commit a crime, which, fortunately for us, did not succeed. Ourselves in the whale-boat had just passed it; the small boat, with the native crew and Mr. Hildebrandt, was following us; the large one was farther behind, when the berg burst, falling with a rustling and cracking over the craft beneath. It did not, however, touch it, but the masses of ice fell close to it in the water, which rose in huge waves, hurling the boat far away. For one moment we looked with horror at the spectacle; but our horror changed at once to joy, as we saw the little craft dancing on the water, and the natives, wet as poodle dogs from the spurting of the water, spitting, and spluttering, and drying their faces, which for a long time had never been free from dirt.

In a short time Lichtenau had for ever disappeared from our sight. At the entrance of the Fjord is a small outlying town, Südpröven. Here we rested a moment to greet the merchant and his wife once more. Here our convoy took leave of us, and the three boats made the last portion of the road to the colony alone. In the evening we reached the Island of Karsok. The natives, who at first hid themselves, came forward when they saw Mr. Warmow, and received bread and meat with delight. They lived high above the strand on a cliff, the house rather large and in good order. Our people, who followed them into it, were immediately regaled with coffee, which they praised.

Through channels and straits, between a labyrinth of islands, we continued our journey. This night (it was the 21st to the 22nd) it was scarcely dark at midnight; but the fog, which in the evening had lain around the tops of the mountains, grew thicker and thicker, and towards morning fell in a soft rain. After midnight we passed the Island of Omarsuk and a great heart-shaped mountain, which the Greenlanders on that account call the Mountain of the World, and neared the district of Julianeshaab. Towards five in the morning we reached the entrance of the Fjord. Here on a cliff we took a little rest. The heavy work on this long boat journey, on which we could not once use the sail, had told greatly upon our men, and added to that was the damp, cold weather, from which we were quite unprotected. But the hot strong coffee, which soon ran into the mugs from the faithful old kettle, and a good portion of bread and meat, helped us considerably. Actively we went on. Soon we were between the islands which stretch before the colony, the largest of which, right in front of Julianeshaab, is called Storö. Two hours more, and the end of our last journey in Greenland--Julianeshaab--was reached.