Chapter XII: Kaksimiut. Frederickshaab. Return Voyage to Europe.37

Farewell and departure.--Visit to the Island of
Pardleet.--In Peru harbour.--Hollanderöe.--Festive
days in Kaksimiut.--Continuation of the
voyage.--Frederickshaab.--Copenhagen.

The 3rd of July was a fine day; and to my astonishment I heard that Captain Bang had decided upon running out. I had still something to look after on shore, but it had to be quickly done. Indeed, the captain and other gentlemen soon followed to say good-bye to the inhabitants of Julianeshaab. Presently the capstan choked with the raising of the anchor. Now we were off in earnest. We took leave of the European ladies of the colony who came down to the harbour, and nodded farewell to the natives. At eleven o’clock the Constance unfurled her sails, and glided slowly out of the harbour. The governor of the colony, the doctor, and the pastor escorted us. Above, on the cliffs of the shore, sat the maidens of Julianeshaab, in company dress, but sad; they nodded farewell to us in their Greenland fashion. They had been shamefully disappointed of their pleasure. Our sudden departure had struck the poor things like a thunderbolt. And as for our men--well, it struck me, too, that they would willingly have waited another day; but we had entered upon our homeward path, and on the whole, we were all heartily glad to be on the road home. Outside in the street, running along the harbour, the gentlemen of the colony wished us a prosperous voyage. We cruised nearly the whole afternoon, in a complete calm, between Akkia and the continent, having the ship in tow. At last, at ten p.m., the outer harbour of Julianeshaab, on the island of Pardleet, about one German mile distant, was reached, where, in expectation of more favourable weather, we dropped anchor once more.

We had really made a great mistake in becoming so soon tired of Julianeshaab; for, in the main, there was life about us there, and that was at least a change. What weariness really is we had now to learn. Pardleet is a completely desert island. The low rocky masses are clothed with scanty vegetation. Whortleberries, the marsh lystus, stunted willows, and birch brushwood are not wanting here either: but a never-ending loneliness rests upon the island, which is poor in animal life, and but seldom visited by birds. In former times, a Greenland family lived here; the ruins of their dwelling are still visible. The small celandine and grasses thrive upon this spot luxuriantly, and this green spot seemed like an oasis in the desert. I and our men roamed over the whole island. For want of other amusement, they collected mussels,[38] which exist here in clusters in the shallows in shore. They had all learned from the natives to eat them raw. We took a number of these mussels on board, and when pickled I myself found them very palatable. We lay in Pardleet harbour until the following day at noon, when we weighed anchor, in order to continue our voyage at least as far as Hollanderöe. The Constance, however, could not quit the spot, as the wind was contrary, and we were unable to tack owing to the narrowness of the straits between the islands. Nothing, therefore, remained but to bring out the hawser once more; and that evening, about ten p.m., we landed in Peru harbour, on the island of Kingitok.

On the map of West Greenland, a great many harbours are marked along the coast, the Aurora harbour, Gray’s, and others. The uninitiated imagine, although incorrectly, that these are inhabited by natives. Greenland captains are often compelled to stay against their will close in shore, owing to calms, or contrary winds, or ice. Then nothing remains for them but to have recourse to one of these harbours, where they can at least ride in safety and wait for favourable weather.

Peru harbour lies in a narrow strait over against Hollanderöe. As we saw no prospect of leaving on the following day, and the weather was fine, we undertook an excursion to this island. On the west it slopes gently down, but towards the east rises into two lofty cliffs, which form a deep ravine, separating them from one another, as well as from the remaining part of the island. As we descended into this defile, in order to reach the steep top on the other side, the stair-shaped bottom of the valley covered with rubbish struck me at once, as well as the steep walls, which showed pretty distinct furrows along them. This roused the conjecture in my mind, that here had once been a glacier, and that we were now completely in its bed. The top of the rock afforded a splendid view on every side over the sea, which fora long way was covered with ice, which the south-east storm had closely crushed together, both towards the north and also towards the rocks of the mainland. But the gnats here, too, plagued us frightfully, and soon drove us altogether away. From above I could now see that the rift in the valley opened into a broad gateway to the sea, confirming my former conjecture as to its geological nature. No doubt remained in our minds when we reached the upper part of the ravine. There the bare rocky masses showed the finest unequivocal naked alpine formation, which in no other way could be accounted for but by glacier-ice. These observations, which I made also later in a ravine resembling this at Kaksimiut and in the neighbourhood of Frederickshaab, raised the opinion that there must have been a time when Greenland was much more covered with ice than it now is. That this was previous to historical times, indeed was most probably coeval with the glacial period of the northern hemisphere of the earth, notwithstanding that all visible traces have not yet disappeared, can be easily accounted for by the slight decay of the rocks, and from the low state of vegetation in the country. Moreover, to this very day, it seems to assert its favourable position for a glacier; as in one spot, and that in no way high above the surface of the sea, lays a huge mass of unmelted snow, which, under similar circumstances during our stay in West Greenland, we had not noticed.

Peru harbour would not let us depart so soon; we lay there from the 6th to the 11th of July. Excursions to land were rendered tormentingly difficult by the importunate swarms of gnats. A small hunting party, at the utmost, might venture out in the evening to kill a ptarmigan. Besides, the dreary cliffs in their horrible sameness offered little or no inducement for excursions. The only change was caused by the natives, who knew how to find us even here; exchanging some birds or fish for a piece of bread, and then lying half the day near the ship, or on it, and sometimes being persuaded to show their tricks in the Kajaks, by sitting in them and turning over, so that the bottom of the boat became uppermost, they having their head in the water, and then cleverly turning up again without any assistance. Once, a whole fleet came, six Kajaks and three Umiaks. We hoped to find amongst them our friend Starick, who ought to have begun his journey to Lichtenfels by this time; but they were only natives, returning from seal-catching or merely wandering about. Of course they could not miss the opportunity of satisfying their curiosity. They came alongside, and some men stepped on board, the women meanwhile remaining in their Umiaks. The latter were but lightly clad. The work had made them warm, and they had thrown everything off that was a burden; but they thought nothing of arranging and completing their toilette before our ship’s crew.

At last, on the 11th of July, at noon, we left Peru harbour with a favourable wind, hoping now to reach Kaksimiut. But, unfortunately, when about eight miles from the goal, a calm brought us to a stand-still, forcing us to find a suitable anchorage under the shore. The harbour where we lay for some days had no name; Captain Bang said he visited it now for the first time. Unfavourable wind, fog, and rain rendered our abode remarkably disagreeable. On the 14th, a boat came from Kaksimiut with a letter. The contents were not comforting. Beyond there lay much ice (so it ran), and an English Kryolite ship, which had run out of Ivikät the week before, had suffered greatly, was obliged to return, and now lay a wreck in the harbour. Upon this we rejoiced that we were in the Constance; for had we gone to Ivikät instead, we should no doubt have taken shelter on board this ship, as at the time none other lay ready for departure. Thus it might still have happened that we might be once more banished by the ice to Greenland.

On the 15th of July, another attempt to run out was made. At first it seemed as if we should soon reach the island of Kaksimiut, but unfortunately a calm fell when half-way; indeed, we saw ourselves driven a good way back by the storm. Towards evening the wind changed, and we at last reached the latitude of the island. Company was soon found. The youth of the place paddled about, and made a noise in their Kajaks around the ship. The chasing and raillery of the merry crowd knew no end; at the same time vying with each other in paddling and throwing the harpoon, in which they exhibited great proficiency. As it got dark the swarm returned to land. It was midnight before we got into the harbour; and the darkness rendered it more difficult to find a good place for dropping anchor. The following afternoon we resolved to go on shore. Our only comfort in weariness (tobacco!), was it not vanishing? and now our last penny must be expended in its purchase. Kaksimiut is a provision depôt. The Danish government have here erected a small dwelling-house, a still smaller warehouse, and an oil-store. Around these buildings are grouped some dozen Greenland huts and other appurtenances. The island, like all those on this coast, is rocky, though rather low. Large stony plains slope gently towards the sea, so that at high water it is partly flooded. On these plateaux the inhabitants lay their hunting stores. The sea is the street-cleaner, the tide carrying away all refuse.

After taking in at a glance the advantages of our position, and becoming a little more familiar with them, we made the acquaintance of the merchant, Mr. Motzfeld, a man of sixty-seven years of age, with a friendly red face and bright eyes, whose age it was not easy to guess. He was singularly vigorous, active, and chatty. His store of tobacco was at once placed at our service; and he had no hesitation, upon the faith of our honest faces, to supply us with a sufficient quantity until we should reach Denmark. Thus, at least for a time, this need was overcome; and full of joy the men withdrew with the beloved weed on board. Motzfeld took us to his house. The government building he did not live in; he kept it, however, for particular occasions to receive company; for instance, he opened it and showed us all sorts of rarities and curiosities which he had collected. Then he led the way to his dwelling. Motzfeld was married, and the father of (actually!) nineteen legitimate children. His wife (after the death of his first he had ventured on a second) was a full-blooded Greenlander. A European house did not suit her, she preferred living in a building of the kind peculiar to the country. Her husband at once provided her with one which, after his death, she could claim as a widow’s portion. There he lived with the younger part of his family; the youngest member of which was about a year old, whilst many of the elder ones had already children; so that in this old man might be seen the head of a family which would spread all over South Greenland. We had met with some belonging to him in Nennortalik, Julianeshaab, and Igalliko, and some lived here in Kaksimiut. The wife looked like every other Greenlander, neither prettier nor cleaner: one must really, like her husband, who sprang from a good Danish family, become altogether Greenlandized before one can feel at home amid such surroundings.

Friend Motzfeld was in high spirits. He rattled on with all sorts of fun, of course in Danish, which we could only now and then understand. “Yes, German he could not speak,” he said, “but sing it he could;” and then he sang, “Zachäus was a brave man,” and “I take my glass in my hand,” and so on. Meanwhile his eyes twinkled, and he accompanied his song with corresponding actions. The accordion, too, must make its notes heard; and when the concert was over, we took our leave well contented, and returned on board. In honour of our arrival, Motzfeld had killed a goat, and sent by his son the half of it on board, wrapped in a really clean cloth. The youth had cleaned and adorned himself, wore a washed _Anorak_[39] and handsomely stitched shoes. We had noticed him some days before amongst the crowd of receivers for his superior agility. Judging by his friendly, intelligent face, he seemed a good youth. Later in the day his father came on board, joining our evening meal. He had all the talk to himself, the others being scarcely able to get a word in. But who would blame the settler for gladdening his heart with gossip, and giving scope to his tongue one day in the year.

The following day was Sunday. With the Greenlanders, to whom every day is Sunday, that does not mean much; but the men of the Constance thought of one particular pleasure. Here, too, through the Danes, our sailors soon became intimate with the inhabitants; and the festival of Julianeshaab had to be repeated. For this there was the more opportunity, as the merry Motzfeld would certainly put no hindrance in the way. In the afternoon he came on board. He had donned his holiday suit, a velvet frock and a high silk round hat, which in Greenland means something. The two captains and myself he invited to dinner. At first, remembering his Greenland domestic economy, I gave no direct consent; besides which, we were sorry to be a burden to a man not over richly stocked with European provisions. But Captain Bang persuaded us to accompany him, assuring us that only roasted meat, and no boiled, would appear at table; moreover, that Motzfeld was so well off, that he could afford to give us a glass of wine: so we accepted the invitation. This time we were received in the European house, our host’s wife and widowed daughter, Agatha, doing the honours; they had adorned their persons in order to receive us, had combed their hair, and washed their faces. Motzfeld experienced “the noble pride of hospitality,” and offered all that his desert island had to offer; the other half of the goat sent to us roasted, stewed fruits, bread and butter, wine and grog. In drinking he took the lead, and scolded us because we did not properly respond. Meanwhile matters had become lively in the other room. The fiddles squeaked, the accordion drawled, and the feet shuffled and stamped in tune. The ball was opened. As we came out, the same sight met us as at Julianeshaab in the stores. In a cloud of dust, redolent of the fumes of the oil-lamps, heads were spinning round each other; and here, too, the tuft of hair belonging to some fair one came in very close contact with the face of the partner or spectator. The conversation was highly interesting, and it was not long before our old host had grasped a jolly maiden, and was swinging round with the others. He could not understand that neither myself, nor the steersmen, who now came in, would know anything of the dance.

Much too early, according to his idea, did we leave his hospitable roof, and much too little honour had we done to his rum. He could not reproach himself in that respect, for, even after our departure, he continued to probe the contents of the bottle in quiet solitude, eventually giving unmistakable proofs to the still active company in the ball-room of the effect produced by a somewhat excessive enjoyment of spirituous liquors.

The morning of the 18th of July brought more life than usual into our neighbourhood. A small coasting vessel, bound to Julianeshaab, had, on her return journey, put into Kaksimiut harbour in order to land some goods and take in oil. She brought the news that the Peru, on her way to Julianeshaab, would that day pass Kaksimiut. For Motzfeld, besides various other things, they had brought a barrel of liquor. The receiver had at once proved both quality and quantity, and found them excellent, which accounted for his spirits being of the best order when he came on board that morning. Not long after that, we saw him pull out of the bay in holiday costume, in an Umiak (from which waved the Danish flag) to pay a visit to the Peru. Only the cylinder hat had he taken the precaution to leave at home. From the Constance, too, a boat went to the Peru. Myself and several other officers, with some of the men, went on shore. Agatha (it was ten a.m.) had not yet had time to wash herself since yesterday, and on the faces of several other young ladies were evident traces of yesterday’s exertions in the ball-room. Mrs. Motzfeld sat in her house in her new Natzek. On the bench, by the window, which was provided with a crane, stood the liquor-cask, and close by a full-drawn bottle and a large glass. This day the merchant’s house seemed to have a great attraction for the people of Kaksimiut; for they spoke oftener than usual, and did not go away without something to strengthen them. The old Greenland captain came from the schooner, the catechist came; indeed, every one came who had time, and as often as he had time. The cause of this unusual frequency it is easy to guess. When we returned on board we learned the news as to what the Peru had brought with her, and also that Mr. Motzfeld, faithful as ever, without further consideration, had started in the Peru for Julianeshaab. Kaksimiut was, therefore, bereft of its head. Indeed, as I came on shore in the afternoon for a ramble through the island it lay deserted and still. Through many cross-roads and by-ways, I returned to the settlement. Not a creature was to be seen. At last some of our men turned up, who at this unusual hour were returning on board. “Well,” said I, “is Kaksimiut dead to-day?” “No, not that,” they answered, “but they are all drunk.” And so they were. They lay in the huts, young and old, men and women, under the influence of liquor, no longer masters of themselves. Motzfeld’s wife was no exception to the rule, and even her offspring were in high spirits. They had got possession of the emblem of their father’s pride and dignity, the cylinder hat, and were quarrelling over it to their hearts’ content, as, sitting on the roof of the house, they played with it as prettily as an ape or a cat might. Only two of the whole number of the inhabitants were really sober, Hans, Motzfeld’s son, and a young girl named Concordia, who was a praiseworthy exception to the rest of her countrywomen. In the evening they brought the crane back to the ship. How much, or rather how little, of his liquor Mr. Motzfeld found left on his return, what heavy punishment he awarded to the culprits who had drunk it, and with what joy he saw his cylinder hat once more--of all this I was unfortunately not an eyewitness; but the respected reader can, without much trouble, picture it for himself. The next morning brought a thick fog, which, however, cleared at noon, and the wind was fair; we, therefore, weighed anchor, and bade adieu to Kaksimiut. Above, on the rocks, sat the maidens of the place; they had soon formed a fervent friendship for our people on board, and, as they saw the whole establishment departing, waved a sad farewell to us; indeed, some of them were wiping their eyes. So rare and entertaining a visit, and of such short duration!

In and out among the islands, we now floated northwards. Soon the steep fall of the giant Serminalik, the most southerly moraine in West Greenland lay before us. A powerful broad belt here forced the inner ice over the berg into the sea. Since we had left East Greenland we had not seen a glacier so near to us. On the east side, too, under the same latitude, there are some huge ones; but there the belt of moraines reaches down to 60° of lat., whilst this most southerly one lies quite alone in 61°. After a long open space to the north of Frederickshaab is another large one, the Iisblink, with its feet dipping in the sea.

Soon we had the island of Tunarsoit, and the wild, jagged rocks of the high Malenefjelds, in sight. We hoped to be in Arsut the following morning, but in the straits between Nunarsoit and the continent the wind changed, and we had to ride at anchor. This was the more necessary, as it presently became more violent, and at noon a regular storm burst; so we lay once more bound to a deserted strand. The weather would not even allow of any further excursion, as the wind brought up heavy masses of fog, rendering any ramble unsafe. It did not last long, however. On the morning of the 22nd of July I noticed with joy, from the rolling of the ship, that we must be at sea, and I was right. With a favourable wind we had weighed anchor at half-past four a.m., and going through the straits of Torsukatek, were at sea. Already far to the south, when I came on deck, lay the rocky pinnacles of Malenefjeld, and on that side of the shore they showed me the entrance to a Fjord; that was the Arsut Fjord, close to which the Kryolite layers are found, which would, of course, be very interesting to me. If one leaves Rome without having seen the Pope, it is a sad misfortune; still perhaps one may see him the next time one comes. But when a geologist has so much and for so long traversed Greenland, and now, when near one of the most interesting spots, is recklessly carried past it, his misfortune is very much greater. It could not be helped, however. We left it further and further behind. In the warm, bright sunshine a troop of fin-back whales were playing round us, which, in their security, swam with astonishing boldness so close to the ship that they dashed the water all over the deck. The gambols of these colossal creatures were wonderfully interesting. It was like an explosion under the sea, when two or more of these whales leaped at the same time out of the water, and rested on the surface, beating it with their flappers, until the sound was like that of great guns. The natives had left us, and now these giants of the Arctic seas had become our escort.

In the evening, unfortunately, the wind died away, and the next morning we had not advanced much farther, namely, still in the latitude of Frederickshaab. It was not long before the people noticed us. Natives approached, and later a boat came alongside with the colonial officials. At first Captain Bang did not seem to wish to cast anchor again; but at length several different circumstances induced him to do so, and thus we were once more to go on shore.

Frederickshaab lies in 62° Lat. and 50° 1′ Long. The colony has not the extent of Julianeshaab. The district lies at the extremity of a Fjord-arm, into which a small stream flows. It is not protected by islands, and offers a safe harbour for any ship running in; but the Greenland captains avoid lying-to in Frederickshaab, as they are often prevented for weeks together, by fog and contrary winds, from running out again. The houses lie on a plateau between three mountains; to the right and left rise two round-headed granite peaks and a wild jagged rock, the Kotenfjeld, which shuts in the prospect. From any of these summits one has a most pleasant view of the colony. By the harbour lie the magazines. The governor’s house scarcely differs from the others, and, owing to its surroundings, appears very low. Some other buildings, the clergyman’s and the assistant’s dwellings, stand in the same row. A cleanly-kept broad foot-way, and an open space before the chief building paved with gravel, look well against the green plots within the colony. The church stands at the upper end of the settlement, and is surrounded by a grave-yard hedged in with stakes. Between this and the houses of the officials stand the huts of the natives, which throughout are supplied with plank roofs. Seen from a distance, Frederickshaab seems an exception to the general rule in Greenland; but when you go into the district itself, there is the same disorder and the same intolerable stench as there is everywhere else. The church-yard, which at a distance looks quite decent, really reminds one more of a place where the flayer does his work; for on the graves and on the sward lie bones brought by the dogs; whale bones, birds, and fish in a state of putridity, lie all around, and nothing but the stakes separated this place from that lying in the same state between the houses, which is still more disfigured by the inevitable dung-heaps.

Besides the governor, his assistant, and a pastor, no Europeans live here. Nevertheless, the natives, who are without exception half-breeds, have a strikingly European cast of countenance, the men as well as the women. Besides this, Ivikät being in the neighbourhood, from whence the Kryolite ships frequently have to put into Frederickshaab, they are accustomed to intercourse with Europeans. I even saw some native girls going about in European dress, though evidently without the necessary under-clothes; and comical enough they looked, as they slid down hill-slopes with the rest of their tribe. The population is, moreover, not at all numerous, and exceeds but little that of Kaksimiut. The object of our stay in Frederickshaab was entirely that of baking bread and brewing beer. Brewing beer is in Greenland, in the mission-stations as well as in the colonies, a business, and the beverage produced is very agreeable. The German missionaries brew white beer, the Danes their much-loved brown beer. Of course, the malt is brought from Europe. A very primitively-erected brewing place is found in every large district, as well as a kneading trough, and both were found here. Brewing and baking were done with most industrious haste; and so it happened that the bread failed, and the beer turned sour, though through the whole sea voyage both would have to be used. We did not try to make any acquaintances in Frederickshaab, though our own men were soon friendly with the natives, and the customary dance easily arranged; but they did not seem to be so comfortable as in Julianeshaab. We were invited, through Captain Bang, to the governor’s, but did not go, as subsequently there was a death in the house.

Mr. Hildebrandt had an opportunity of greatly astonishing the natives by his cleverness in canoe paddling. As everywhere else, so in the harbour of Frederickshaab, the Constance was continually surrounded by visitors, who, by their odd ways, whiled away the time.

Matters, however, did not always go so smoothly with the Kajak; and they often had an opportunity of making acquaintance with the watery element. Thus it happened to the aforesaid gentleman, who got upset with the Kajak, and came on board wet as a poodle. But, when close to the man-rope he turned round, sprang into the water, and swam in the bitterly cold stream around the Constance. Such a thing the Greenlanders had never before seen; and although they are, as it were, part of their Kajaks, they can none of them swim: the bitter cold of the element of itself forbids it. Their astonishment found vent in all sorts of exclamations, when Mr. Hildebrandt returned on board. Whenever they saw him afterwards, they begged him to repeat the trick once more. Patiently they waited the whole day by the ship, but the artistic swimmer did not satisfy their curiosity.

The neighbourhood of Frederickshaab offered but little that was interesting. We passed the time in aimless rambles, and viewing the prospects from the heights which, at last, rewarded us with a lovely distant view. We could not, however, count upon our stay here; for already, on the evening of the 24th, our business on shore was nearly ended, so that we might hope to put to sea the following day. But not until early on the 25th of July could the anchor be weighed for our homeward voyage, when, for the last time, we trod on Greenland soil. The dense ice out at sea forced the Constance still to keep a northward course. Wind and weather favoured us. By the evening we had the great Ice-blink near Fiskernäss, the second great glacier of South Greenland, close to us. The huge masses of ice showed the gateways and arches in a greenish light; and now louder, now fainter, we heard the washing of the water. A lovely evening closed the day. Once more did we see that magic light, which we had already learnt to recognize on the other side of the ice, and of which in our homely latitudes, we can form no idea. But the burning red clouds boded no good; and, indeed, we tacked the next day in a pretty strong wind and thick fog.

As it cleared on the 29th of July, we could see far away the bergs of the Greenland coast. On the 30th, the Constance took a westerly course. Towards evening, the well-known rushing of breakers on the ice struck our ears. Soon the barrier was before us, but the floes lay far apart; and how different they looked! Jagged and crumbling, small, and to our eyes insignificant, they drifted about, the sport of the waves. Once more we heard the well-known command on the ice, “floe upon floe, keep back!” Herds of seals which lay upon them lifted their heads curiously. They should not want a farewell greeting; and soon the needle-gun resounded, sending death to the harmless creatures, for the last time on our voyage.

Behind us lay the ice, which closed up, forming a blinding white strip; and the Greenland icebergs, gilded with the setting sun, sent us their parting greeting. They sank deeper and deeper; the veil of night spread over all; and when we came on deck the following day, we were in latitude 65° 11′, on the high sea in Davis Straits. “31st July. No more ice! Set southwards, and--O heavenly music of the word--homewards!”

This is the last note in my day-book. I write it with feelings too deep for expression. A few weeks more, and all we have gone through will lie behind us, and all that we have suffered (if God will) be at an end! But how long will this trial of our patience last?

After nearly a month’s voyage across the lonely North Atlantic Ocean, the Shetland Isles at last hove in sight. Soon they were reached, and a fresh wind drove us into the German Ocean. In all directions did we scour the broad plain with our glasses to discover the first German vessel, which, perhaps, taking the direct way to our country, might hurry on with the news of our return. But none were to be seen. On the great Doggerbank were none but Dutch and Moravian fishermen. The entrance of the Kattegat was now reached; the sea around us was animated. In the latitude of Skagen there lay with us 300 ships, whose destination was the Baltic Sea. But still no German sail showed itself! What did it mean? Had the German nation given up seafaring since our departure? Then the pilot came on board, and brought the news of the great events which had taken place in Europe in the interval. Now for the first time did we learn how that the long-impending war with our old enemy had broken out; and how that the Danes themselves must in truth confess that hitherto the German arms had been crowned with victory. Now all was cleared up. Now we understood why we had met with no German vessels, why hundreds of German ships lay at anchor in the roads of Helsingör. How it flew from mouth to mouth! We were not yet on our home soil, and all the younger ones were eager to be off to France; they only feared “it might be over before they reached it in time to have a brush with the French.”

On the 1st of September we at length reached Copenhagen. The handsome pleasant town, with its beautiful beech-groves, made a doubly satisfactory impression on us strangers. How different the landscape appeared here in comparison with the waste shores of Greenland! With pleasure, even in the Sound, did our eyes roam over the banks; and with joy did we greet the neat suburbs and the green trees, which we had not seen for so long. Here, in Copenhagen, were we restored to civilized society; the two captains had gone on shore together; we remained on board. The Constance was laid up in the Train-oil dock.

It now entered our heads that it was necessary to pay some attention to our outward appearance; and our ragged community had a hearty laugh at one another. In our present condition we could not leave the ship, at least not by day, or we should certainly have been compromised with the police. Some in sealskin caps, some in “kamiken,”[40] others in sea-boots, from which the toes protruded, with ragged trousers, and threadbare coats, or Iceland shirts; thus we returned home. At last Captain Hegemann fetched us away in a fly in the twilight. Our first visit was to a clothing warehouse; and one cannot blame the owner for trying to protect his goods from us until he had received a certificate from the Consul, which gave him a little more confidence. Then essentially improved in appearance, we drove to the hotel; even the host seemed surprised at the sight of such unusual guests; but we were changed for the better, and could walk through the streets of Copenhagen without fear of making acquaintance with the police through outward appearance.

Thanks to the telegraph, the news of our happy return spread from one end to the other of our country, and soon more and more distinct tidings followed. On the 3rd of September, the same day that through the home provinces, indeed through the whole of Europe, the news of the night battle of Sedan flew, we trod on German soil, coming through Friedericia in Schleswig. Flags were everywhere displayed. In the evening, every suburb we reached was illuminated, until we entered Hamburg in time to witness the great illumination in celebration of the victories, and thus greeted our country, as it were, in triumph.

Thus we all stood again on native soil; and after so much distress and danger, we had the happiness, scarcely hoped for in many weary hours, of shaking hands with relations and friends. We should certainly have preferred it, had we, like the Germania later on, been able to run into Bremen harbour with our good ship, instead of coming into Bremen in an express car by the east gate from Hamburg; but it was so destined. And now that all is done, and our fate accomplished by a higher power, may all murmuring as to the right or wrong be far from us.

As the consciousness of honourably fulfilling one’s duty is comforting, so we Hansa men will quietly await the judgment of our contemporaries. We cannot flatter ourselves that we have greatly increased the knowledge of Greenland; but we have shown what man’s nature can bear, and what man’s strength and perseverance can accomplish.

The narrator closes this account with the hope that he has succeeded in rendering these extraordinary adventures, which must always be unique in their kind, interesting to the reader.