In the Land of White Death

by Valerian Albanov

  Gradually, we tried to familiarize ourselves with our fellow creatures, and were soon able to identify a few bird species. There were eiders, gulls, kittiwakes, auks, and many others. Scores of them thronged around the ponds, or flew overhead in dense flocks like clouds, until they vanished in the distance, which our veiled, damaged eyes could barely see. Near the water’s edge there was a spot where seals and walruses seemed to be basking on the shore. We crept very cautiously along the beach so as not to frighten them. But our sight had deceived us: As we got nearer, we saw nothing but . . . huge rocks! We continued to explore our new surroundings. Dazzled by the rays of the sun, we splashed through pools, waded across fords, gazed in wonder at millions of tiny pebbles glistening in the bright light, and marveled over every tangle of seaweed, every clump of moss. And suddenly we spotted some tiny yellow flowers. Flowers! How long had we been deprived of their beauty! And here they were, greeting us again with their pure and charming splendor!

  Soon after, a bird flew up from the ground at our feet, as if from within the earth itself. Surprised, we looked around us; it was an eider leaving its nest, in which we found four large eggs, almost as big as goose eggs. What ecstasy! We would certainly not suffer from hunger in this land of plenty. Soon we found dozens of nests nearby. Our overwhelming excitement made us forget all past deprivations and hardships. This little island beyond the Arctic Circle, at 81° north, seemed like paradise to us with all its riches. The sun bathed us in friendly light, and the welcoming birdsong made us feel completely at home.

  We continued eastward. Behind us lay the glacier, majestic in a faint veil of mist.

  We saw not the slightest trace of our two fugitives! The tide had once again separated the ice from the land, and a vast watery barrier had formed between the two. Lunayev spotted three eiders on the wing. He fired and missed, leaving a hole in the air.

  But this shot created a strange echo. Was not that the sound of someone calling? We hesitated a moment, quite astonished. What was it? Were there men living here? There was no doubt about it: A second cry followed the first. Only someone in distress could shout out like that. We strained our eyes and there indeed was a man, running as fast as he could, shouting and waving his cap. As he came nearer, we were flabbergasted to see that he was one of our two thieves. He came up to us, weeping and wailing, begging for forgiveness. He confessed to his wrongdoing and that of his companion, and acknowledged his shameful betrayal. His face expressed such mortal anguish and sincere repentance that we had to avert our eyes. We cast inquiring glances at one another, and then held a brief council to decide what we should do with him. For a moment we trembled in anger as memories of his cowardly act flooded back to us. My inner voice whispered the oath I had taken to “shoot the ignominious thieves on the spot if ever I encountered them.” Anger rose up inside me again. Then I took a closer look at the fellow: He was truly pitiful and his pleas went straight to the heart. I thought of the miracle that had delivered us from an icy death and how I had just now so deeply felt the beauty of the earth and of life, like someone brought back from the dead. Swayed by the overwhelming power of such emotions, I decided to pardon the man. Yet had I met him only a few hours earlier, on the ice, I would most certainly have executed him, which alone could expiate his crime.

  The poor devil thanked us with tears of joy and threw himself at our feet. When he and his companion had heard the whine of the bullets, which by chance had whizzed by their lair, they thought that the hour of vengeance had arrived, and decided to surrender.

  We immediately asked to be led to their “hideout.” This was, in fact, just a simple ditch where they had been living like animals. They had lit a fire; all around lay the skins of all the eiders they had eaten, as well as fresh eggs. That is where we found the other thief. He seemed to have guessed we would spare their lives, although they deserved to lose them a thousand times over. We could hardly recognize him, and he must have suffered terribly during his escapade. He looked quite ill, although only nine days had gone by since they left us. When I asked what was wrong, he did not answer. It was obvious that he was in very poor health. Then, as if to reassure me he said, “I will soon be well again. Navigator, sir, I shall never leave you again.”

  We regained our good mood and high spirits. There was no threat of starving here. There was an abundance of driftwood, and soon a cheerful fire was blazing.

  The “troglodytes” invited us to supper and offered us an omelette cooked in duck fat in an enameled pan. Our faithless comrades told us that they had not damaged or destroyed any of the stolen items; all they had eaten were the biscuits. Fortunately the large tin can containing the ship’s documents and our correspondence was still in their possession and intact, although they had been very short of containers. We found the omelette to be excellent, even without salt, and we sat for a long time engrossed in animated conversation around the flickering flames.

  The thieves told us about their journey: One night they had been very rudely awakened by a polar bear, but they quickly regained their wits and fired at his head, which killed him on the spot. His skull lay near the campfire like a hunting trophy.

  An abundance of impressions and thoughts racing through our minds made sleep impossible. We imagined all sorts of plans for the future, working out what we ought to do first.

  But we had still seen neither hide nor hair of the other six, who should have joined us long ago with the kayak and the sledge. One of the two delinquents had already climbed up twice onto the glacier to look for the latecomers and guide them to our shelter, but each time he returned alone. It was five o’clock in the morning on June 26 before we finally stretched out on the ground and fell into a light sleep.

  At noon, Lunayev and one of the two thieves climbed back up the glacier and came upon the following tableau, a quite idyllic scene, indeed: At the summit of the glacier there was a sledge tied to a kayak, and in the kayak, covered in sails, were the six men, sound asleep, without a care in the world. When awakened, they confessed to having been there since six o’clock the previous evening, in plain sight of the cape, which was practically within reach. But their chronic laziness had stopped them from going any farther. The wind had blown away all my good advice and they had not budged. Nothing could stir them, all they wanted to do was sleep, and they did not seem to care whether there would be anything to eat the next day. They would have stopped even earlier, but the fear of not being found had pushed them this far. At eight o’clock in the morning they had awakened from their long sleep, shared the last biscuits, and lain down again right away. Fortunately, Maximov had remembered to wind the chronometer. They were the epitome of indolence and stupidity. I was not pleased that they had been wakened. It would have been interesting to see how much longer they would have slept, and at what point they would have deemed it necessary to get up, leave the glacier, get to dry land, and think about finding some food! I have often tried, but always in vain, to fathom their thoughts; all I know is that it is extremely aggravating to be involved with characters of this nature in such dangerous circumstances. They are always there, I can see them, but that is all. Often it would be better not to see them, for they are of no help whatsoever; they are, in fact, more of a burden than anything else, and they have ambitions that are totally unwarranted. During the most critical moments I was always essentially alone, and it was then that I understood the profound truth of the precept: “It is when you are alone that you are free. If you want to live, fight for as long as you have strength and determination. You may have no one to help you with your struggle, but you will at least have no one dragging you under. When you are alone, it is always easier to stay afloat.”

  After devouring the eider meat and the eggs that Lunayev had brought along, my laggards found sufficient strength finally to tackle an energetic task. They set off for the cape, and joined up with us at nine o’clock that evening. When I rebuked them for their laziness, indolence, and lack of conscience in service of a noble ideal, they remain
ed silent at first, and then each of them started to blame his neighbor. Time and time again they had shown a total lack of character, and no sense of duty or responsibility! They seemed to want to compete among themselves to prove who was the most useless.

  Early in the morning on June 27, I sent four men up to the glacier to bring back the second sledge and kayak, and I instructed the others to finish setting up camp and to hunt for birds and eggs. As for myself, I set off with the rifle under my arm to scout the area and find out where we were. On my map I could find no landmass that corresponded to the shape and nature of our new locality. I was groping in the dark and longed so much to know more! Toward the south, the ice-free spit of land was part of a larger region that was covered with glaciers. The northern side of the cape was very low, but toward the south there were elevated slopes, and the southern shore itself was a rocky cliff, jutting sixty feet above the waves. The spit of land was roughly twelve to fifteen miles wide. I reached the southern shore after walking for over two hours. There was almost no snow on any of the rocks, and water gushed down into the sea in noisy torrents. What a magnificent scene I had in front of me, with the vast blue ocean stretching to the horizon. Only a few isolated icebergs, well eroded by the sea, drifted here and there. In such splendid natural surroundings, one still expects to see some sign of human life: One’s eyes automatically search for the sight of a sailboat or a steamship with its smokestack.

  To the east and southeast there was an inlet, free of ice. I was now certain that if, during the critical period of the previous weeks, fog had hidden this island from our sight for even a few days, we would simply have passed it by, and been irresistibly carried out to the open sea on our ice floe, where we all would have perished long before reaching Svalbard.

  My thoughts often turn now to the proud Saint Anna and those who stayed behind. This is where she should be, safe from danger. Under sail alone, with no assistance from her engines, she would have run well before the waves of this mighty sea.

  The icy, biting wind whipping off the glacier almost blew me over, and finally forced me to retreat. On the way back, I shot two more eiders. At noon I cooked up a fine meal of scrambled eggs.

  There was no shortage of eggs; I had only to reach out my hand to find one of the countless nests. The hunters returned at the same time, at around five o’clock, with a bounty of thirteen eiders. Konrad and Shpakovsky had made an extraordinary discovery during this outing, for they had pushed as far as the southwestern corner of the island. Near the sea, a heap of stones with a very regular form had caught their attention. When they went closer, they discovered a beer bottle and some patented screw tops. Suspecting it might be a hiding place, they carefully removed the piles of stones and found a tin box containing a Union Jack still in excellent condition. Under the box a note in a bottle gave the following explanation:

  The Jackson-Harmsworth polar expedition landed here on Cape Mary Harmsworth on August 7, 1897, having left Cape Flora the previous day on board the yacht Windward. We intend to sail to the northwest, to ascertain whether there is land in that direction and then, if possible, to reach the Johannesen islands. All is well aboard.

  Frederick G. Jackson, Leader of the Expedition.

  I do not know much English, but with the help of a little dictionary I had brought with me, and Nilsen’s assistance, we were able to translate the message.

  Now all my doubts had been resolved, much sooner than I could have hoped. We are at Cape Harmsworth, the southwestern tip of Alexandra Land. And I also understand why my map only indicates its western and northern coasts with a dotted line. Fortunately, the island’s name was written on the map, and its southern coast, so crucial for the next stage of our journey, was also marked.

  Today, June 28, our position is 80°35´. Tomorrow we intend to proceed in the direction of the southern coast and continue our journey across land as quickly as possible toward Cape Flora and the camp of the famous English explorer, Frederick Jackson. It seems to me that we are on a well-known and previously traveled route that will lead us right there. Our supplies should last us for five days, which will take us quite far.

  THE FATEFUL JOURNEY TO CAPE FLORA

  JUNE 30

  We struck camp at Cape Mary Harmsworth yesterday morning at about nine, to head for the south coast in the direction of Cape Flora. It was with heavy hearts that we left behind this hospitable shore; we had really felt at home here after so many weeks of hardship. If there had been no hope of finding a comfortable shelter at Cape Flora, we might have stayed on at this pleasant cape. We could even have wintered over without fear of undue hardship.

  After two hours, during which we managed to shoot a few eiders, we reached the south coast. Our two kayaks had been repaired and now had double canvas covers, thoroughly impregnated with melted seal fat. My kayak could now easily carry two men in addition to our supplies, and the other one could take three. We had the option of all ten of us going on foot along the glacier, hauling the kayak-laden sledges, or of forming two groups, one of which would go along the coast on skis, while the other went by kayak from one cape to the next. The latter would be the faster alternative, and offered the possibility of killing a few seals along the way. After careful consideration, we decided to split up and fixed a black cape visible in the distance, which probably borders Weyprecht Bay, as our meeting point. Before setting off, I reminded those on foot to be extremely careful about the numerous crevasses in the glacier. I warned them, in their own interest, against carelessness and distraction. All our belongings were stowed in the two kayaks, so that the skiers had nothing to carry but lightweight rucksacks containing their provisions.

  We had no sooner left the water’s edge than a walrus attacked us. I quickly fired in his direction and he immediately disappeared under the waves. We made good progress, and those on the glacier did as well; they were visible from the water. We could see them waving their caps at us, striving not to be left behind. Walruses threatened us on several occasions as we paddled toward our destination, so we had to be very careful, and above all to be prepared for the worst, for it was hardly an ideal spot to fend off an attack. We were clearly at a disadvantage, for on the port side rose a sheer face, roughly one hundred feet high, while ahead of us and to starboard was the open sea, with a few ice floes.

  We approached the black cape at around eleven at night, but could not land since the bay was still icebound. We set up our camp on the edge of the ice and lit a fire with driftwood we had brought from Cape Harmsworth. In the meantime the skiers arrived. We had covered at least twenty-five miles. If we could continue at that rate, we should reach Cape Flora within four days at the latest. On a number of occasions the skiers had seen bear tracks on the glacier, but no sign of the animals themselves. I regretted having had to sacrifice the third kayak; otherwise we should have been able to lash two kayaks side by side and travel all together by sea, thus avoiding this unsettling separation into two groups.

  I have just seen a few more walruses. They often poke their heads out of the water. They are far more repulsive than one might imagine: Their heads and necks form a mass of bloated folds; from their lips and around their muzzles hang long, thick whiskers, which give them a sort of mustache. But strangest of all are their little bloodshot eyes and their astonished and threatening—even aggressive—gazes. Their long tusks give them a prehistoric look, which has earned them the reputation of feeding solely upon human flesh. As they emerge from the water, they puff and blow very noisily, and when you hear such sounds, your hand reaches involuntarily for your rifle. There is no doubt that in open water they are a serious danger for small craft. On the ice they look rather harmless, but their gigantic size is astounding. Meeting a walrus is analogous to encountering an enormous hippopotamus, which would be similarly terrifying on first sight.

  In the kayak, I was constantly on the lookout for possible walrus attacks, and I kept a loaded rifle at the ready, attached to the boat by a long rope. I also had an ax within reach
, although I was less convinced of its effectiveness against a sudden assault. A walrus in the water is a formidable opponent, particularly when one is in an eleven-foot canvas kayak! Polar bears are hardly friendly creatures, but compared to walruses, they can be considered almost harmless. Thus not all my companions were particularly enthusiastic about traveling by kayak, but it was good, nevertheless, that some of them had the choice.

  The landscape around us is fairly monotonous: one glacier after another. From time to time the snow gives way to dark, rocky areas. I find it hard to believe that all of Alexandra Land will have the same monotonous scenery. If this is the case, however, we ought to have renamed Cape Harmsworth “the Promised Land.”

  JULY 1

  Yesterday we set off again at about ten A.M. Most of the men are again letting themselves go, and their omnipresent need for sleep has once again gained the upper hand. I plead with them, cajole them, and give them orders, but with little success. I employ all my eloquence in trying to convince these “lazybones” that we simply must hurry if we do not want to be caught by the south wind that will fill the sea with pack ice, blocking our way. Besides, we have far too little food to be able to stop for long. Had we not, in any case, left Cape Harmsworth well rested and with renewed strength? Delight in good fortune does not last long with these fellows. They never act of their own free will, but merely follow each other like sheep. They hang their heads, every one of them, their faces full of despair.