Through the first Antarctic night, 1898-1899 : $b a narrative of the voyage of the "Belgica" among newly discovered lands and over an unknown sea about the south poleCook, Frederick Albert
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Through the first Antarctic night, 1898-1899 : $b a narrative of the voyage of the "Belgica" among newly discovered lands and over an unknown sea about the south pole
Cook, Frederick Albert
Antarctica; Antarctica -- Discovery and exploration -- Belgian; Belgica (Ship); Voyages and travels
Little time was lost in seeking the shore. We were hungry for home
news, and anxious to tread on solid ground. The sensation of having
real earth under our feet was new to us. For more than a year we had
roamed about over the moving frozen waters of the antarctic sea, with
no sight of land, and no feeling of stability. When we mount the first
hill we shall sit down and watch and wait to see if it, too, does
not move like the hills of ice upon which we have rested so long. We
landed quietly, and almost unnoticed; there was no crowd, no tooting
of whistles, and no display of bunting as we passed over the long iron
pier. In Patagonia nothing short of a volcanic eruption creates an
uproar, which was to our liking, for we hated excitement and display
and much desired to spend our time as it best suited our inclinations.
A few of the sailors who came ashore remained on the beach, kicked
about in the sand, and tossed pebbles. So much were they interested
in this first touch of solid ground that they continued to play in
the sand for hours, with the delight of children at the seashore. The
officers marched straightway to a hotel, but in getting there they
were made to feel their own previously unnoticed awkwardness. It is
a sad undertaking for one endowed with a graceful walk to engage in
polar exploration. I do not know whether any one on the _Belgica_
ever boasted of such an accomplishment, but I do know that our walking
attitudes, as we strolled up these streets, were a study in alcoholism.
We had travelled on _skis_ and other snowshoes so long, and had
been tossed about on the sea so much, that we had forgotten how to walk
normally. We spread our legs, dragged our feet, braced and balanced
our bodies with every step, and altogether our gait was ridiculous. It
may all be imagination, but we felt unnatural, as, indeed, we must have
looked.
[Illustration: The Sailors at the End of the Long Night.
A. Tollefsen.
M. Van Rysselberghe. J. Melaerts. J. Van Mirlo.
J. Koren. H. Somers. G. Dufour.
H. Johansen. E. Knudsen. L. Michotte.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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