The English at the North Pole
by Jules Verne · English · Gutenberg #22759 · 392,788 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The English at the North Pole
Author: Jules Verne
Release date: September 24, 2007 [eBook #22759]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22759
Credits: Produced by Ron Swanson
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ENGLISH AT THE NORTH POLE ***
Produced by Ron Swanson
THE ENGLISH AT THE NORTH POLE
PART I
OF
THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN HATTERAS
BY
JULES VERNE
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I.--THE "FORWARD" . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
II.--AN UNEXPECTED LETTER . . . . . . . . . 14
III.--DR. CLAWBONNY . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
IV.--DOG-CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
V.--OUT AT SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
VI.--THE GREAT POLAR CURRENT . . . . . . . 44
VII.--DAVIS'S STRAITS . . . . . . . . . . . 52
VIII.--GOSSIP OF THE CREW . . . . . . . . . . 61
IX.--NEWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
X.--DANGEROUS NAVIGATION . . . . . . . . . 78
XI.--THE DEVIL'S THUMB . . . . . . . . . . 88
XII.--CAPTAIN HATTERAS . . . . . . . . . . . 98
XIII.--THE PROJECTS OF HATTERAS . . . . . . . 109
XIV.--EXPEDITION IN SEARCH OF FRANKLIN . . . 118
XV.--THE "FORWARD" DRIVEN BACK SOUTH . . . 127
XVI.--THE MAGNETIC POLE . . . . . . . . . . 135
XVII.--THE FATE OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN . . . . 144
XVIII.--THE NORTHERN ROUTE . . . . . . . . . . 150
XIX.--A WHALE IN SIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 155
XX.--BEECHEY ISLAND . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
XXI.--THE DEATH OF BELLOT . . . . . . . . . 170
XXII.--BEGINNING OF REVOLT . . . . . . . . . 178
XXIII.--ATTACKED BY ICEBERGS . . . . . . . . . 184
XXIV.--PREPARATIONS FOR WINTERING . . . . . . 193
XXV.--AN OLD FOX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
XXVI.--THE LAST LUMP OF COAL . . . . . . . . 209
XXVII.--CHRISTMAS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215
XXVIII.--PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE . . . . . . 222
XXIX.--ACROSS THE ICE . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
XXX.--THE CAIRN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
XXXI.--THE DEATH OF SIMPSON . . . . . . . . . 243
XXXII.--THE RETURN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
CHAPTER I
THE "FORWARD"
"To-morrow, at low tide, the brig _Forward_, Captain K. Z----, Richard
Shandon mate, will start from New Prince's Docks for an unknown
destination."
The foregoing might have been read in the _Liverpool Herald_ of April
5th, 1860. The departure of a brig is an event of little importance
for the most commercial port in England. Who would notice it in the
midst of vessels of all sorts of tonnage and nationality that six
miles of docks can hardly contain? However, from daybreak on the 6th
of April a considerable crowd covered the wharfs of New Prince's
Docks--the innumerable companies of sailors of the town seemed to
have met there. Workmen from the neighbouring wharfs had left their
work, merchants their dark counting-houses, tradesmen their shops.
The different-coloured omnibuses that ran along the exterior wall
of the docks brought cargoes of spectators at every moment; the town
seemed to have but one pre-occupation, and that was to see the
_Forward_ go out.
The _Forward_ was a vessel of a hundred and seventy tons, charged
with a screw and steam-engine of a hundred and twenty horse-power.
It might easily have been confounded with the other brigs in the port.
But though it offered nothing curious to the eyes of the public,
connoisseurs remarked certain peculiarities in it that a sailor
cannot mistake. On board the _Nautilus_, anchored at a little distance,
a group of sailors were hazarding a thousand conjectures about the
destination of the _Forward_.
"I don't know what to think about its masting," said one; "it isn't
usual for steamboats to have so much sail."
"That ship," said a quartermaster with a big red face--"that ship
will have to depend more on her masts than her engine, and the topsails
are the biggest because the others will be often useless. I haven't
got the slightest doubt that the _Forward_ is destined for the Arctic
or Antarctic seas, where the icebergs stop the wind more than is good
for a brave and solid ship."
"You must be right, Mr. Cornhill," said a third sailor. "Have you
noticed her stern, how straight it falls into the sea?"
"Yes," said the quartermaster, "and it is furnished with a steel
cutter as sharp as a razor and capable of cutting a three-decker in
two if the _Forward_ were thrown across her at top speed."
"That's certain," said a Mersey pilot; "for that 'ere vessel runs
her fourteen knots an hour with her screw. It was marvellous to see
her cutting the tide when she made her trial trip. I believe you,
she's a quick un."
"The canvas isn't intricate either," answered Mr. Cornhill; "it goes
straight before the wind, and can be managed by hand. That ship is
going to try the Polar seas, or my name isn't what it is. There's
something else--do you see the wide helm-port that the head of her
helm goes through?"
"It's there, sure enough," answered one; "but what does that prove?"
"That proves, my boys," said Mr. Cornhill with disdainful
satisfaction, "that you don't know how to put two and two together
and make it four; it proves that they want to be able to take off
the helm when they like, and you know it's a manoeuvre that's often
necessary when you have ice to deal with."
"That's certain," answered the crew of the _Nautilus_.
"Besides," said one of them, "the way she's loaded confirms Mr.
Cornhill's opinion. Clifton told me. The _Forward_ is victualled and
carries coal enough for five or six years. Coals and victuals are
all its cargo, with a stock of woollen garments and sealskins."
"Then," said the quartermaster, "there is no more doubt on the matter;
but you, who know Clifton, didn't he tell you anything about her
destination?"
"He couldn't tell me; he doesn't know; the crew was engaged without
knowing. He'll only know where he's going when he gets there."
"I shouldn't wonder if they were going to the devil," said an
unbeliever: "it looks like it."
"And such pay," said Clifton's friend, getting warm--"five times more
than the ordinary pay. If it hadn't been for that, Richard Shandon
wouldn't have found a soul to go with him. A ship with a queer shape,
going nobody knows where, and looking more like not coming back than
anything else, it wouldn't have suited this child."
"Whether it would have suited you or not," answered Cornhill, "you
couldn't have been one of the crew of the _Forward_."
"And why, pray?"
"Because you don't fulfil the required conditions. I read that all
married men were excluded, and you are in the category, so you needn't
talk. Even the very name of the ship is a bold one. The
_Forward_--where is it to be forwarded to? Besides, nobody knows who
the captain is."
"Yes, they do," said a simple-faced young sailor.
"Why, you don't mean to say that you think Shandon is the captain
of the _Forward_?" said Cornhill.
"But----" answered the young sailor--
"Why, Shandon is commander, and nothing else; he's a brave and bold
sailor, an experienced whaler, and a jolly fellow worthy in every
respect to be the captain, but he isn't any more captain than you
or I. As to who is going to command after God on board he doesn't
know any more than we do. When the moment has come the true captain
will appear, no one knows how nor where, for Richard Shandon has not
said and hasn't been allowed to say to what quarter of the globe he
is going to direct his ship."
"But, Mr. Cornhill," continued the young sailor, "I assure you that
there is someone on board who was announced in the letter, and that
Mr. Shandon was offered the place of second to."
"What!" said Cornhill, frowning, "do you mean to maintain that the
_Forward_ has a captain on board?"
"Yes, Mr. Cornhill."
"Where did you get your precious information from?"
"From Johnson, the boatswain."
"From Johnson?"
"Yes, sir."
"Johnson told you so?"
"He not only told me so, but he showed me the captain."
"He showed him to you!" said Cornhill, stupefied. "And who is it,
pray?"
"A dog."
"What do you mean by a dog?"
"A dog on four legs."
Stupefaction reigned amongst the crew of the _Nautilus_. Under any
other circumstances they would have burst out laughing. A dog captain
of a vessel of a hundred and seventy tons burden! It was enough to
make them laugh. But really the _Forward_ was such an extraordinary
ship that they felt it might be no laughing matter, and they must
be sure before they denied it. Besides, Cornhill himself didn't laugh.
"So Johnson showed you the new sort of captain, did he?" added he,
addressing the young sailor, "and you saw him?"
"Yes, sir, as plainly as I see you now."
"Well, and what do you think about it?" asked the sailors of the
quartermaster.
"I don't think anything," he answered shortly. "I don't think anything,
except that the _Forward_ is a ship belonging to the devil, or madmen
fit for nothing but Bedlam."
The sailors continued silently watching the _Forward_, whose
preparations for departure were drawing to an end; there was not one
of them who pretended that Johnson had only been laughing at the young
sailor. The history of the dog had already made the round of the town,
and amongst the crowd of spectators many a one looked out for the
dog-captain and believed him to be a supernatural animal. Besides,
the _Forward_ had been attracting public attention for some months
past. Everything about her was marvellous; her peculiar shape, the
mystery which surrounded her, the incognito kept by the captain, the
way Richard Shandon had received the proposition to direct her, the
careful selection of the crew, her unknown destination, suspected
only by a few--all about her was strange.
To a thinker, dreamer, or philosopher nothing is more affecting than
the departure of a ship; his imagination plays round the sails, sees
her struggles with the sea and the wind in the adventurous journey
which does not always end in port; when in addition to the ordinary
incidents of departure there are extraordinary ones, even minds
little given to credulity let their imagination run wild.
So it was with the _Forward_, and though the generality of people
could not make the knowing remarks of Quartermaster Cornhill, it did
not prevent the ship forming the subject of Liverpool gossip for three
long months. The ship had been put in dock at Birkenhead, on the
opposite side of the Mersey. The builders, Scott and Co., amongst
the first in England, had received an estimate and detailed plan from
Richard Shandon; it informed them of the exact tonnage, dimensions,
and store room that the brig was to have. They saw by the details
given that they had to do with a consummate seaman. As Shandon had
considerable funds at his disposal, the work advanced rapidly,
according to the recommendation of the owner. The brig was constructed
of a solidity to withstand all tests; it was evident that she was
destined to resist enormous pressure, for her ribs were built of
teak-wood, a sort of Indian oak, remarkable for its extreme hardness,
and were, besides, plated with iron. Sailors asked why the hull of
a vessel made so evidently for resistance was not built of sheet-iron
like other steamboats, and were told it was because the mysterious
engineer had his own reasons for what he did.
Little by little the brig grew on the stocks, and her qualities of
strength and delicacy struck connoisseurs. As the sailors of the
_Nautilus_ had remarked, her stern formed a right angle with her keel;
her steel prow, cast in the workshop of R. Hawthorn, of Newcastle,
shone in the sun and gave a peculiar look to the brig, though otherwise
she had nothing particularly warlike about her. However, a 16-pounder
cannon was installed on the forecastle; it was mounted on a pivot,
so that it might easily be turned in any direction; but neither the
cannon nor the stern, steel-clad as they were, succeeded in looking
warlike.
On the 5th of February, 1860, this strange vessel was launched in
the midst of an immense concourse of spectators, and the trial trip
was perfectly successful. But if the brig was neither a man-of-war,
a merchant vessel, nor a pleasure yacht--for a pleasure trip is not
made with six years' provisions in the hold--what was it? Was it a
vessel destined for another Franklin expedition? It could not be,
because in 1859, the preceding year, Captain McClintock had returned
from the Arctic seas, bringing the certain proof of the loss of the
unfortunate expedition. Was the _Forward_ going to attempt the famous
North-West passage? What would be the use? Captain McClure had
discovered it in 1853, and his lieutenant, Creswell, was the first
who had the honour of rounding the American continent from Behring's
Straits to Davis's Straits. Still it was certain to competent judges
that the _Forward_ was prepared to face the ice regions. Was it going
to the South Pole, farther than the whaler Weddell or Captain James
Ross? But, if so, what for?
The day after the brig was floated her engine was sent from Hawthorn's
foundry at Newcastle. It was of a hundred and twenty horse-power,
with oscillating cylinders, taking up little room; its power was
considerable for a hundred-and-seventy-ton brig, with so much sail,
too, and of such fleetness. Her trial trips had left no doubt on that
subject, and even the boatswain, Johnson, had thought right to express
his opinion to Clifton's friend--
"When the _Forward_ uses her engine and sails at the same time, her
sails will make her go the quickest."
Clifton's friend did not understand him, but he thought anything
possible of a ship commanded by a dog. After the engine was installed
on board, the stowage of provisions began. This was no slight work,
for the vessel was to carry enough for six years. They consisted of
dry and salted meat, smoked fish, biscuit, and flour; mountains of
tea and coffee were thrown down the shafts in perfect avalanches.
Richard Shandon presided over the management of this precious cargo
like a man who knows what he is about; all was stowed away, ticketed,
and numbered in perfect order; a very large provision of the Indian
preparation called pemmican, which contains many nutritive elements
in a small volume, was also embarked. The nature of the provisions
left no doubt about the length of the cruise, and the sight of the
barrels of lime-juice, lime-drops, packets of mustard, grains of
sorrel and _cochlearia_, all antiscorbutic, confirmed the opinion
on the destination of the brig for the ice regions; their influence
is so necessary in Polar navigation. Shandon had doubtless received
particular instructions about this part of the cargo, which, along
with the medicine-chest, he attended to particularly.
Although arms were not numerous on board, the powder-magazine
overflowed. The one cannon could not pretend to use the contents.
That gave people more to think about. There were also gigantic saws
and powerful instruments, such as levers, leaden maces, handsaws,
enormous axes, etc., without counting a considerable quantity of
blasting cylinders, enough to blow up the Liverpool Customs--all that
was strange, not to say fearful, without mentioning rockets, signals,
powder-chests, and beacons of a thousand different sorts. The
numerous spectators on the wharfs of Prince's Docks admired likewise
a long mahogany whaler, a tin _pirogue_ covered with gutta-percha,
and a certain quantity of halkett-boats, a sort of indiarubber cloaks
that can be transformed into canoes by blowing in their lining.
Expectation was on the _qui vive_, for the _Forward_ was going out
with the tide.
CHAPTER II
AN UNEXPECTED LETTER
The letter received by Richard Shandon, eight months before, ran as
follows:--
"ABERDEEN,
"August 2nd, 1859.
"To Mr. Richard Shandon,
"Liverpool.
"SIR,--I beg to advise you that the sum of sixteen thousand pounds
sterling has been placed in the hands of Messrs. Marcuart and Co.,
bankers, of Liverpool. I join herewith a series of cheques, signed
by me, which will allow you to draw upon the said Messrs. Marcuart
for the above-mentioned sum. You do not know me, but that is of no
consequence. I know you: that is sufficient. I offer you the place
of second on board the brig _Forward_ for a voyage that may be long
and perilous. If you agree to my conditions you will receive a salary
of 500 pounds, and all through the voyage it will be augmented
one-tenth at the end of each year. The _Forward_ is not yet in
existence. You must have it built so as to be ready for sea at the
beginning of April, 1860, at the latest. Herewith is a detailed plan
and estimate. You will take care that it is scrupulously followed.
The ship is to be built by Messrs. Scott and Co., who will settle
with you. I particularly recommend you the choice of the _Forward's_
crew; it will be composed of a captain, myself, of a second, you,
of a third officer, a boatswain, two engineers, an ice pilot, eight
sailors, and two others, eighteen men in all, comprising Dr. Clawbonny,
of this town, who will introduce himself to you when necessary. The
_Forward's_ crew must be composed of Englishmen without incumbrance;
they should be all bachelors and sober--for no spirits, nor even beer,
will be allowed on board--ready to undertake anything, and to bear
with anything. You will give the preference to men of a sanguine
constitution, as they carry a greater amount of animal heat. Offer
them five times the usual pay, with an increase of one-tenth for each
year of service. At the end of the voyage five hundred pounds will
be placed at the disposition of each, and two thousand at yours. These
funds will be placed with Messrs. Marcuart and Co. The voyage will
be long and difficult, but honourable, so you need not hesitate to
accept my conditions. Be good enough to send your answer to K. Z.,
Poste Restante, Goteborg, Sweden.
"P.S.--On the 15th of February next you will receive a large Danish
dog, with hanging lips, and tawny coat with black stripes. You will
take it on board and have it fed with oaten bread, mixed with tallow
grease. You will acknowledge the reception of the said dog to me under
the same initials as above, Poste Restante, Leghorn, Italy.
"The captain of the _Forward_ will introduce himself to you when
necessary. When you are ready to start you will receive further
instructions.
"THE CAPTAIN OF THE 'FORWARD,'
"K. Z."
CHAPTER III
DR. CLAWBONNY
Richard Shandon was a good sailor; he had been commander of whalers
in the Arctic seas for many years, and had a wide reputation for skill.
He might well be astonished at such a letter, and so he was, but
astonished like a man used to astonishments. He fulfilled, too, all
the required conditions: he had no wife, children, or relations; he
was as free as a man could be. Having no one to consult, he went straight
to Messrs. Marcuart's bank.
"If the money is there," he said to himself, "I'll undertake the rest."
He was received by the firm with all the attention due to a man with
sixteen thousand pounds in their safes. Sure of that fact, Shandon
asked for a sheet of letter-paper, and sent his acceptance in a large
sailor's hand to the address indicated. The same day he put himself
in communication with the Birkenhead shipbuilders, and twenty-four
hours later the keel of the _Forward_ lay on the stocks in the
dockyard.
Richard Shandon was a bachelor of forty, robust, energetic, and brave,
three sailor-like qualities, giving their possessor confidence,
vigour, and _sang-froid_. He was reputed jealous and hard to be
pleased, so he was more feared than loved by his sailors. But this
reputation did not increase the difficulty of finding a crew, for
he was known to be a clever commander. He was afraid that the mystery
of the enterprise would embarrass his movements, and he said to
himself, "The best thing I can do is to say nothing at all; there
are sea-dogs who will want to know the why and the wherefore of the
business, and as I know nothing myself, I can't tell them. K. Z. is
a queer fish, but after all he knows me, and has confidence in me;
that's enough. As to the ship, she will be a handsome lass, and my
name isn't Richard Shandon if she is not destined for the Frozen Seas.
But I shall keep that to myself and my officers."
Upon which Richard Shandon set about recruiting his crew upon the
conditions of family and health exacted by the captain. He knew a
brave fellow and capital sailor, named James Wall. Wall was about
thirty, and had made more than one trip to the North Seas. Shandon
offered him the post of third officer, and he accepted blindly; all
he cared for was to sail, as he was devoted to his profession. Shandon
told him and Johnson (whom he engaged as boatswain) all he knew about
the business.
"Just as soon go there as anywhere else," answered Wall. "If it's
to seek the North-West passage, many have been and come back."
"Been, yes; but come back I don't answer for," said Johnson; "but
that's no reason for not going."
"Besides, if we are not mistaken in our conjectures," said Shandon,
"the voyage will be undertaken under good conditions. The _Forward's_
a bonny lass, with a good engine, and will stand wear and tear.
Eighteen men are all the crew we want."
"Eighteen men?" said Johnson. "That's just the number that the
American, Kane, had on board when he made his famous voyage towards
the North Pole."
"It's a singular fact that there's always some private individual
trying to cross the sea from Davis's Straits to Behring's Straits.
The Franklin expeditions have already cost England more than seven
hundred and sixty thousand pounds without producing any practical
result. Who the devil means to risk his fortune in such an enterprise?"
"We are reasoning now on a simple hypothesis," said Shandon. "I don't
know if we are really going to the Northern or Southern Seas. Perhaps
we are going on a voyage of discovery. We shall know more when Dr.
Clawbonny comes; I daresay he will tell us all about it."
"There's nothing for it but to wait," answered Johnson; "I'll go and
hunt up some solid subjects, captain; and as to their animal heat,
I guarantee beforehand you can trust me for that."
Johnson was a valuable acquisition; he understood the navigation of
these high latitudes. He was quartermaster on board the _Phoenix_,
one of the vessels of the Franklin expedition of 1853. He was witness
of the death of the French lieutenant Bellot, whom he had accompanied
in his expedition across the ice. Johnson knew the maritime population
of Liverpool, and started at once on his recruiting expedition.
Shandon, Wall, and he did their work so well that the crew was complete
in the beginning of December. It had been a difficult task; many,
tempted by the high pay, felt frightened at the risk, and more than
one enlisted boldly who came afterwards to take back his word and
enlistment money, dissuaded by his friends from undertaking such an
enterprise. All of them tried to pierce the mystery, and worried
Shandon with questions; he sent them to Johnson.
"I can't tell you what I don't know," he answered invariably; "you'll
be in good company, that's all I can tell you. You can take it or
leave it alone."
And the greater number took it.
"I have only to choose," added the boatswain; "such salary has never
been heard of in the memory of sailors, and then the certainty of
finding a handsome capital when we come back. Only think: it's
tempting enough."
"The fact is," answered the sailor, "it is tempting; enough to live
on till the end of one's days."
"I don't hide from you," continued Johnson, "that the cruise will
be long, painful, and perilous; that is formally stated in our
instructions, and you ought to know what you undertake; you will very
likely be required to attempt all that it is possible for human beings
to do, and perhaps more. If you are the least bit frightened, if you
don't think you may just as well finish yonder as here, you'd better
not enlist, but give way to a bolder man."
"But, Mr. Johnson," continued the sailor, for the want of something
better to say, "at least you know the captain?"
"The captain is Richard Shandon till another comes."
Richard Shandon, in his secret heart, hoped that the command would
remain with him, and that at the last moment he should receive precise
instructions as to the destination of the _Forward_. He did all he
could to spread the report in his conversations with his officers,
or when following the construction of the brig as it grew in the
Birkenhead dockyard, looking like the ribs of a whale turned upside
down. Shandon and Johnson kept strictly to their instructions
touching the health of the sailors who were to form the crew; they
all looked hale and hearty, and had enough heat in their bodies to
suffice for the engine of the _Forward_; their supple limbs, their
clear and florid complexions were fit to react against the action
of intense cold. They were confident and resolute men, energetically
and solidly constituted. Of course they were not all equally vigorous;
Shandon had even hesitated about taking some of them, such as the
sailors Gripper and Garry, and the harpooner Simpson, because they
looked rather thin; but, on the whole, their build was good; they
were a warm-hearted lot, and their engagement was signed.
All the crew belonged to the same sect of the Protestant religion;
during these long campaigns prayer in common and the reading of the
Bible have a good influence over the men and sustain them in the hour
of discouragement; it was therefore important that they should be
all of the same way of thinking. Shandon knew by experience the utility
of these practices, and their influence on the mind of the crew; they
are always employed on board ships that are intended to winter in
the Polar Seas. The crew once got together, Shandon and his two
officers set about the provisions; they strictly followed the
instructions of the captain; these instructions were clear, precise,
and detailed, and the least articles were put down with their quality
and quantity. Thanks to the cheques at the commander's disposition,
every article was paid for at once with a discount of 8 per cent,
which Richard carefully placed to the credit of K. Z.
Crew, provisions, and cargo were ready by January, 1860; the _Forward_
began to look shipshape, and Shandon went daily to Birkenhead. On
the morning of the 23rd of January he was, as usual, on board one
of the Mersey ferry-boats with a helm at either end to prevent having
to turn it; there was a thick fog, and the sailors of the river were
obliged to direct their course by means of the compass, though the
passage lasts scarcely ten minutes. But the thickness of the fog did
not prevent Shandon seeing a man of short stature, rather fat, with
an intelligent and merry face and an amiable look, who came up to
him, took him by the two hands, and shook them with an ardour, a
petulance, and a familiarity "quite meridional," as a Frenchman would
have said. But if this person did not come from the South, he had
got his temperament there; he talked and gesticulated with
volubility; his thought must come out or the machine would burst.
His eyes, small as those of witty men generally are, his mouth, large
and mobile, were safety-pipes which allowed him to give passage to
his overflowing thoughts; he talked, and talked, and talked so much
and so fast that Shandon couldn't understand a word he said. However,
this did not prevent the _Forward's_ mate from recognising the little
man he had never seen before; a lightning flash traversed his mind,
and when the other paused to take breath, Shandon made haste to get
out the words, "Doctor Clawbonny!"
"Himself in person, commander! I've been at least half a quarter of
an hour looking for you, asking everybody everywhere! Just think how
impatient I got; five minutes more and I should have lost my head!
And so you are the commander Richard? You really exist? You are not
a myth? Your hand, your hand! I want to shake it again. It is Richard
Shandon's hand, and if there is a commander Shandon, there's a brig
_Forward_ to command; and if he commands he will start, and if he
starts he'll take Dr. Clawbonny on board."
"Well, yes, doctor, I am Richard Shandon; there is a brig _Forward_,
and it will start."
"That's logic," answered the doctor, after taking in a large provision
of breathing air--"that's logic. And I am ready to jump for joy at
having my dearest wishes gratified. I've wanted to undertake such
a voyage. Now with you, commander----"
"I don't----" began Shandon.
"With you," continued Clawbonny, without hearing him, "we are sure
to go far and not to draw back for a trifle."
"But----" began Shandon again.
"For you have shown what you are made of, commander; I know your deeds
of service. You are a fine sailor!"
"If you will allow me----"
"No, I won't have your bravery, audacity, and skill put an instant
in doubt, even by you! The captain who chose you for his mate is a
man who knows what he's about, I can tell you."
"But that's nothing to do with it," said Shandon, impatient.
"What is it, then? Don't keep me in suspense another minute."
"You don't give me time to speak. Tell me, if you please, doctor,
how it comes that you are to take part in the expedition of the
_Forward_."
"Read this letter, this worthy letter, the letter of a brave
captain--very laconic, but quite sufficient."
Saying which the doctor held out the following letter to Shandon:--
"INVERNESS,
"Jan. 22nd, 1860.
"To Dr. Clawbonny.
"If Dr. Clawbonny wishes to embark on board the _Forward_ for a long
cruise, he may introduce himself to the commander, Richard Shandon,
who has received orders concerning him.
"THE CAPTAIN OF THE 'FORWARD,'
"K. Z."
"This letter reached me this morning, and here I am, ready to embark."
"But, doctor, do you know where we are going to?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, and I do not care so that it is somewhere.
They pretend that I am learned; they are mistaken, commander. I know
nothing, and if I have published a few books that don't sell badly,
I ought not to have done it; the public is silly for buying them.
I know nothing, I tell you. I am only an ignorant man. When I have
the offer of completing, or rather of going over again, my knowledge
of medicine, surgery, history, geography, botany, mineralogy,
conchology, geodesy, chemistry, natural philosophy, mechanics, and
hydrography, why I accept, of course."
"Then," said Shandon, disappointed, "you do not know where the
_Forward_ is bound for?"
"Yes, I do; it is bound for where there is something to learn, to
discover, and to compare--where we shall meet with other customs,
other countries, other nations, to study in the exercise of their
functions; it is going, in short, where I have never been."
"But I want to know something more definite than that," cried Shandon.
"Well, I have heard that we are bound for the Northern Seas."
"At least," asked Shandon, "you know the captain?"
"Not the least bit in the world! But he is an honest fellow, you may
believe me."
The commander and the doctor disembarked at Birkenhead; the former
told the doctor all he knew about the situation of things, and the
mystery inflamed the imagination of the doctor. The sight of the brig
caused him transports of joy. From that day he stopped with Shandon,
and went every day to pay a visit to the shell of the _Forward_. Besides,
he was specially appointed to overlook the installation of the ship's
medicine-chest. For Dr. Clawbonny was a doctor, and a good one, though
practising little. At the age of twenty-five he was an ordinary
practitioner; at the age of forty he was a _savant_, well known in
the town; he was an influential member of all the literary and
scientific institutions of Liverpool. His fortune allowed him to
distribute counsels which were none the worse for being gratuitous;
beloved as a man eminently lovable must always be, he had never wronged
any one, not even himself; lively and talkative, he carried his heart
in his hand, and put his hand into that of everybody. When it was
known in Liverpool that he was going to embark on board the _Forward_
his friends did all they could to dissuade him, and only fixed him
more completely in his determination, and when the doctor was
determined to do anything no one could prevent him. From that time
the suppositions and apprehensions increased, but did not prevent
the _Forward_ being launched on the 5th of February, 1860. Two months
later she was ready to put to sea. On the 15th of March, as the letter
of the captain had announced, a dog of Danish breed was sent by railway
from Edinburgh to Liverpool, addressed to Richard Shandon. The animal
seemed surly, peevish, and even sinister, with quite a singular look
in his eyes. The name of the _Forward_ was engraved on his brass collar.
The commander installed it on board the same day, and acknowledged
its reception to K. Z. at Leghorn. Thus, with the exception of the
captain, the crew was complete. It was composed as follows:--
1. K. Z., captain; 2. Richard Shandon, commander; 3. James Wall, third
officer; 4. Dr. Clawbonny; 5. Johnson, boatswain; 6. Simpson,
harpooner; 7. Bell, carpenter; 8. Brunton, chief engineer; 9. Plover,
second engineer; 10. Strong (negro), cook; 11. Foker, ice-master;
12. Wolsten, smith; 13. Bolton, sailor; 14. Garry, sailor; 15. Clifton,
sailor; 16. Gripper, sailor; 17. Pen, sailor; 18. Warren, stoker.
CHAPTER IV
DOG-CAPTAIN
The day of departure arrived with the 5th of April. The admission
of the doctor on board had given the crew more confidence. They knew
that where the worthy doctor went they could follow. However, the
sailors were still uneasy, and Shandon, fearing that some of them
would desert, wished to be off. With the coast out of sight, they
would make up their mind to the inevitable.
Dr. Clawbonny's cabin was situated at the end of the poop, and occupied
all the stern of the vessel. The captain's and mate's cabins gave
upon deck. The captain's remained hermetically closed, after being
furnished with different instruments, furniture, travelling
garments, books, clothes for changing, and utensils, indicated in
a detailed list. According to the wish of the captain, the key of
the cabin was sent to Lubeck; he alone could enter his room.
This detail vexed Shandon, and took away all chance of the chief
command. As to his own cabin, he had perfectly appropriated it to
the needs of the presumed voyage, for he thoroughly understood the
needs of a Polar expedition. The room of the third officer was placed
under the lower deck, which formed a vast sleeping-room for the
sailors' use; the men were very comfortably lodged, and would not
have found anything like the same convenience on board any other ship;
they were cared for like the most priceless cargo: a vast stove
occupied all the centre of the common room. Dr. Clawbonny was in his
element; he had taken possession of his cabin on the 6th of February,
the day after the _Forward_ was launched.
"The happiest of animals," he used to say, "is a snail, for it can
make a shell exactly to fit it; I shall try to be an intelligent snail."
And considering that the shell was to be his lodging for a considerable
time, the cabin began to look like home; the doctor had a _savant's_
or a child's pleasure in arranging his scientific traps. His books,
his herbals, his set of pigeon-holes, his instruments of precision,
his chemical apparatus, his collection of thermometers, barometers,
hygrometers, rain-gauges, spectacles, compasses, sextants, maps,
plans, flasks, powders, bottles for medicine-chest, were all classed
in an order that would have shamed the British Museum. The space of
six square feet contained incalculable riches: the doctor had only
to stretch out his hand without moving to become instantaneously a
doctor, a mathematician, an astronomer, a geographer, a botanist,
or a conchologist. It must be acknowledged that he was proud of his
management and happy in his floating sanctuary, which three of his
thinnest friends would have sufficed to fill. His friends came to
it in such numbers that even a man as easy-going as the doctor might
have said with Socrates, "My house is small, but may it please Heaven
never to fill it with friends!"
To complete the description of the _Forward_ it is sufficient to say
that the kennel of the large Danish dog was constructed under the
window of the mysterious cabin but its savage inhabitant preferred
wandering between decks and in the hold; it seemed impossible to tame
him, and no one had been able to become his master; during the night
he howled lamentably, making the hollows of the ship ring in a sinister
fashion. Was it regret for his absent master? Was it the instinct
of knowing that he was starting for a perilous voyage? Was it a
presentiment of dangers to come? The sailors decided that it was for
the latter reason, and more than one pretended to joke who believed
seriously that the dog was of a diabolical kind. Pen, who was a brutal
man, was going to strike him once, when he fell, unfortunately,
against the angle of the capstan, and made a frightful wound in his
head. Of course this accident was placed to the account of the
fantastic animal. Clifton, the most superstitious of the crew, made
the singular observation that when the dog was on the poop he always
walked on the windward side, and afterwards, when the brig was out
at sea, and altered its tack, the surprising animal changed its
direction with the wind the same as the captain of the _Forward_ would
have done in his place. Dr. Clawbonny, whose kindness and caresses
would have tamed a tiger, tried in vain to win the good graces of
the dog; he lost his time and his pains. The animal did not answer
to any name ever written in the dog calendar, and the crew ended by
calling him Captain, for he appeared perfectly conversant with ship
customs; it was evident that it was not his first trip. From such
facts it is easy to understand the boatswain's answer to Clifton's
friend, and the credulity of those who heard it; more than one repeated
jokingly that he expected one day to see the dog take human shape
and command the manoeuvres with a resounding voice.
If Richard Shandon did not feel the same apprehensions he was not
without anxiety, and the day before the departure, in the evening
of April 5th, he had a conversation on the subject with the doctor,
Wall, and Johnson in the poop cabin. These four persons were tasting
their tenth grog, and probably their last, for the letter from
Aberdeen had ordered that all the crew, from the captain to the stoker,
should be teetotallers, and that there should be no wine, beer, nor
spirits on board except those given by the doctor's orders. The
conversation had been going on about the departure for the last hour.
If the instructions of the captain were realised to the end, Shandon
would receive his last instructions the next day.
"If the letter," said the commander, "does not tell me the captain's
name, it must at least tell me the destination of the brig, or I shall
not know where to take her to."
"If I were you," said the impatient doctor, "I should start whether
I get a letter or no; they'll know how to send after you, you may
depend."
"You are ready for anything, doctor; but if so, to what quarter of
the globe should you set sail?"
"To the North Pole, of course; there's not the slightest doubt about
that."
"Why should it not be the South Pole?" asked Wall.
"The South Pole is out of the question. No one with any sense would
send a brig across the whole of the Atlantic. Just reflect a minute,
and you'll see the impossibility."
"The doctor has an answer to everything," said Wall.
"Well, we'll say north," continued Shandon. "But where north? To
Spitzbergen or Greenland? Labrador or Hudson's Bay? Although all
directions end in insuperable icebergs, I am not less puzzled as to
which to take. Have you an answer to that, doctor?"
"No," he answered, vexed at having nothing to say; "but if you don't
get a letter what shall you do?"
"I shall do nothing; I shall wait."
"Do you mean to say you won't start?" cried Dr. Clawbonny, agitating
his glass in despair.
"Certainly I do."
"And that would be the wisest plan," said Johnson tranquilly, while
the doctor began marching round the table, for he could not keep still;
"but still, if we wait too long, the consequences may be deplorable;
the season is good now if we are really going north, as we ought to
profit by the breaking up of the ice to cross Davis's Straits; besides,
the crew gets more and more uneasy; the friends and companions of
our men do all they can to persuade them to leave the _Forward_, and
their influence may be pernicious for us."
"Besides," added Wall, "if one of them deserted they all would, and
then I don't know how you would get another crew together."
"But what can I do?" cried Shandon.
"What you said you would do," replied the doctor; "wait and wait till
to-morrow before you despair. The captain's promises have all been
fulfilled up to now with the greatest regularity, and there's no
reason to believe we shan't be made acquainted with our destination
when the proper time comes. I haven't the slightest doubt that
to-morrow we shall be sailing in the Irish Channel, and I propose
we drink a last grog to our pleasant voyage. It begins in an
unaccountable fashion, but with sailors like you there are a thousand
chances that it will end well."
And all four drank to their safe return.
"Now, commander," continued Johnson, "if you will allow me to advise
you, you will prepare everything to start; the crew must think that
you know what you are about. If you don't get a letter to-morrow,
set sail; do not get up the steam, the wind looks like holding out,
and it will be easy enough to sail; let the pilot come on board; go
out of the docks with the tide, and anchor below Birkenhead; our men
won't be able to communicate with land, and if the devil of a letter
comes it will find us as easily there as elsewhere."
"By heavens! you are right, Johnson!" cried the doctor, holding out
his hand to the old sailor.
"So be it," answered Shandon.
Then each one entered his cabin, and waited in feverish sleep for
the rising of the sun. The next day the first distribution of letters
took place in the town, and not one bore the address of the commander,
Richard Shandon. Nevertheless, he made his preparations for
departure, and the news spread at once all over Liverpool, and, as
we have already seen, an extraordinary affluence of spectators
crowded the wharfs of New Prince's Docks. Many of them came on board
to shake hands for the last time with a comrade, or to try and dissuade
a friend, or to take a look at the brig, and to know its destination;
they were disappointed at finding the commander more taciturn and
reserved than ever. He had his reasons for that.
Ten o'clock struck. Eleven followed. The tide began to go out that
day at about one o'clock in the afternoon. Shandon from the top of
the poop was looking at the crowd with uneasy eyes, trying to read
the secret of his destiny on one of the faces. But in vain. The sailors
of the _Forward_ executed his orders in silence, looking at him all
the time, waiting for orders which did not come. Johnson went on
preparing for departure. The weather was cloudy and the sea rough;
a south-easter blew with violence, but it was easy to get out of the
Mersey.
At twelve o'clock nothing had yet been received. Dr. Clawbonny marched
up and down in agitation, looking through his telescope,
gesticulating, impatient for the sea, as he said. He felt moved,
though he struggled against it. Shandon bit his lips till the blood
came. Johnson came up to him and said--
"Commander, if we want to profit by the tide, there is no time to
be lost; we shall not be clear of the docks for at least an hour."
Shandon looked round him once more and consulted his watch. The twelve
o'clock letters had been distributed. In despair he told Johnson to
start. The boatswain ordered the deck to be cleared of spectators,
and the crowd made a general movement to regain the wharves while
the last moorings were unloosed. Amidst the confusion a dog's bark
was distinctly heard, and all at once the animal broke through the
compact mass, jumped on to the poop, and, as a thousand spectators
can testify, dropped a letter at Shandon's feet.
"A letter!" cried Shandon. "_He_ is on board, then?"
"He was, that's certain, but he isn't now," said Johnson, pointing
to the deserted deck.
Shandon held the letter without opening it in his astonishment.
"But read it, read it, I say," said the doctor.
Shandon looked at it. The envelope had no postmark or date; it was
addressed simply to:
"RICHARD SHANDON,
"Commander on board the brig
"_Forward_."
Shandon opened the letter and read as follows:--
"Sail for Cape Farewell. You will reach it by the 20th of April. If
the captain does not appear on board, cross Davis's Straits, and sail
up Baffin's Sea to Melville Bay.
"THE CAPTAIN OF THE 'FORWARD,'
"K. Z."
Shandon carefully folded this laconic epistle, put it in his pocket,
and gave the order for departure. His voice, which rang above the
east wind, had something solemn in it.
Soon the _Forward_ had passed the docks, and directed by a Liverpool
pilot whose little cutter followed, went down the Mersey with the
current. The crowd precipitated itself on to the exterior wharf along
the Victoria Docks in order to get a last glimpse of the strange brig.
The two topsails, the foresail and the brigantine sail were rapidly
set up, and the _Forward_, worthy of its name, after having rounded
Birkenhead Point, sailed with extraordinary fleetness into the Irish
Sea.
CHAPTER V
OUT AT SEA
The wind was favourable, though it blew in April gales. The _Forward_
cut through the waves, and towards three o'clock crossed the mail
steamer between Liverpool and the Isle of Man. The captain hailed
from his deck the last adieu that the _Forward_ was destined to hear.
At five o'clock the pilot left the command in the hands of Richard
Shandon, the commander of the brig, and regained his cutter, which,
turning round, soon disappeared on the south-west. Towards evening
the brig doubled the Calf of Man at the southern extremity of the
island. During the night the sea was very rough, but the _Forward_
behaved well, left the point of Ayr to the north-west, and directed
its course for the Northern Channel. Johnson was right; once out at
sea the maritime instinct of the sailors gained the upper hand. Life
on board went on with regularity.
The doctor breathed in the sea air with delight; he walked about
vigorously in the squalls, and for a _savant_ he was not a bad sailor.
"The sea is splendid," said he to Johnson, coming up on deck after
breakfast. "I have made its acquaintance rather late, but I shall
make up for lost time."
"You are right, Mr. Clawbonny. I would give all the continents of
the world for a corner of the ocean. They pretend that sailors soon
get tired of their profession, but I've been forty years on the sea
and I love it as much as the first day."
"It is a great pleasure to feel a good ship under one's feet, and
if I'm not a bad judge the _Forward_ behaves herself well."
"You judge rightly, doctor," answered Shandon, who had joined the
talkers; "she is a good ship, and I acknowledge that a vessel destined
for navigation amongst ice has never been better equipped. That
reminds me that thirty years ago Captain James Ross, sailing for the
North-West passage----"
"In the _Victory_," added the doctor quickly, "a brig about the same
tonnage as ours, with a steam-engine too."
"What! you know about that?"
"Judge if I do," answered the doctor. "Machines were then in their
infancy, and the _Victory's_ kept her back; the captain, James Ross,
after having vainly repaired it bit by bit, finished by taking it
down, and abandoned it at his first winter quarters."
"The devil!" said Shandon. "You know all about it, I see."
"Yes. I've read the works of Parry, Ross, and Franklin, and the reports
of McClure, Kennedy, Kane, and McClintock, and I remember something
of what I've read. I can tell you, too, that this same McClintock,
on board the _Fox_, a screw brig in the style of ours, went easier
to his destination than any of the men who preceded him."
"That's perfectly true," answered Shandon; "he was a bold sailor was
McClintock; I saw him at work. You may add that, like him, we shall
find ourselves in Davis's Straits in April, and if we succeed in
passing the ice our voyage will be considerably advanced."
"Unless," added the doctor, "it happens to us like it did to the _Fox_
in 1857, to be caught the very first year by the ice in Baffin's Sea,
and have to winter in the midst of the icebergs."
"We must hope for better luck," answered Johnson. "If a ship like
the _Forward_ can't take us where we want to go, we must renounce
all hope for ever."
"Besides," said the doctor, "if the captain is on board he will know
better than we do what must be done. We know nothing as yet; his letter
says nothing about what our voyage is for."
"It is a good deal to know which way to go," answered Shandon quickly.
"We can do without the captain and his instructions for another month
at least. Besides, you know what I think about it."
"A short time ago," said the doctor, "I thought like you that the
captain would never appear, and that you would remain commander of
the ship; but now----"
"Now what?" replied Shandon in an impatient tone.
"Since the arrival of the second letter I have modified that opinion."
"Why, doctor?"
"Because the letter tells you the route to follow, but leaves you
ignorant of the _Forward's_ destination; and we must know where we
are going to. How the deuce are you to get a letter now we are out
at sea? On the coast of Greenland the service of the post must leave
much to wish for. I believe that our gentleman is waiting for us in
some Danish settlement--at Holsteinborg or Uppernawik; he has
evidently gone there to complete his cargo of sealskins, buy his
sledges and dog, and, in short, get together all the tackle wanted
for a voyage in the Arctic Seas. I shouldn't be at all surprised to
see him come out of his cabin one of these fine mornings and begin
commanding the ship in anything but a supernatural way."
"It's possible," answered Shandon drily; "but in the meantime the
wind is getting up, and I can't risk my gallant sails in such weather."
Shandon left the doctor and gave the order to reef the topsails.
"He takes it to heart," said the doctor to the boatswain.
"Yes," answered the latter, "and it's a great pity, for you may be
right, Mr. Clawbonny."
In the evening of Saturday the _Forward_ doubled the Mull of Galloway,
whose lighthouse shone to the north-east; during the night they left
the Mull of Cantyre to the north, and Cape Fair, on the coast of Ireland,
to the east. Towards three o'clock in the morning, the brig, leaving
Rathlin Island on her starboard side, disembogued by the Northern
Channel into the ocean. It was Sunday, the 8th of April, and the doctor
read some chapters of the Bible to the assembled seamen. The wind
then became a perfect hurricane, and tended to throw the brig on to
the Irish coast; she pitched, and rolled, and tossed, and if the doctor
was not seasick it was because he would not be, for nothing was easier.
At noon Cape Malinhead disappeared towards the south; it was the last
European ground that these bold sailors were to perceive, and more
than one watched it out of sight, destined never to see it again.
They were then in 55 degrees 57 minutes latitude and 7 degrees 40
minutes longitude by the Greenwich meridian.
The storm spent itself out about nine o'clock in the evening; the
_Forward_, like a good sailor, maintained her route north-west. She
showed by her behaviour during the day what her sailing capacities
were, and as the Liverpool connoisseurs had remarked, she was above
all, a sailing vessel. During the following days the _Forward_ gained
the north-west with rapidity; the wind veered round south, and the
sea had a tremendous swell on; the brig was then going along under
full sail. Some petrels and puffins came sailing over the poop; the
doctor skilfully shot one of the latter, and it fell, fortunately,
on the deck. The harpooner, Simpson, picked it up and brought it to
its owner.
"Nasty game that, Mr. Clawbonny," he said.
"It will make an excellent meal, on the contrary," said the doctor.
"You don't mean to say you are going to eat that thing?"
"And so are you, old fellow," said the doctor, laughing.
"Poh!" replied Simpson, "but it's oily and rancid, like all other
sea birds."
"Never mind!" answered the doctor, "I have a peculiar way of cooking
that game, and if you recognise it for a sea bird I'll consent never
to kill another in my life."
"Do you know how to cook, then?"
"A _savant_ ought to know how to do a little of everything."
"You'd better take care, Simpson," said the boatswain; "the doctor's
a clever man, and he'll make you take this puffin for a grouse."
The fact is that the doctor was quite right about his fowl; he took
off all the fat, which all lies under the skin, principally on the
thighs, and with it disappeared the rancidity and taste of fish which
is so disagreeable in a sea bird. Thus prepared the puffin was declared
excellent, and Simpson acknowledged it the first.
During the late storm Richard Shandon had been able to judge of the
qualities of his crew; he had watched each man narrowly, and knew
how much each was to be depended upon.
James Wall was devoted to Richard, understood quickly and executed
well, but he might fail in initiative; he placed him in the third
rank. Johnson was used to struggle with the sea; he was an old stager
in the Arctic Ocean, and had nothing to learn either in audacity or
_sang-froid_. The harpooner, Simpson, and the carpenter, Bell, were
sure men, faithful to duty and discipline. The ice-master, Foker,
was an experienced sailor, and, like Johnson, was capable of rendering
important service. Of the other sailors Garry and Bolton seemed to
be the best; Bolton was a gay and talkative fellow; Garry was
thirty-five, with an energetic face, but rather pale and sad-looking.
The three sailors, Clifton, Gripper, and Pen, seemed less ardent and
resolute; they easily grumbled. Gripper wanted to break his
engagement even before the departure of the _Forward_; a sort of shame
kept him on board. If things went on all right, if there were not
too many risks to run, no dangers to encounter, these three men might
be depended upon; but they must be well fed, for it might be said
that they were led by their stomachs. Although warned beforehand,
they grumbled at having to be teetotallers; at their meals they
regretted the brandy and gin; it did not, however, make them spare
the tea and coffee, which was prodigally given out on board. As to
the two engineers, Brunton and Plover, and the stoker, Warren, there
had been nothing for them to do as yet, and Shandon could not tell
anything about their capabilities.
On the 14th of April the _Forward_ got into the grand current of the
Gulf Stream, which, after ascending the eastern coast of America to
Newfoundland, inclines to the north-east along the coast of Norway.
They were then in 57 degrees 37 minutes latitude by 22 degrees 58
minutes longitude, at two hundred miles from the point of Greenland.
The weather grew colder, and the thermometer descended to thirty-two
degrees, that is to say to freezing point.
The doctor had not yet begun to wear the garments he destined for
the Arctic Seas, but he had donned a sailor's dress like the rest;
he was a queer sight with his top-boots, in which his legs disappeared,
his vast oilcloth hat, his jacket and trousers of the same; when
drenched with heavy rains or enormous waves the doctor looked like
a sort of sea-animal, and was proud of the comparison.
During two days the sea was extremely rough; the wind veered round
to the north-west, and delayed the progress of the _Forward_. From
the 14th to the 16th of April the swell was great, but on the Monday
there came such a torrent of rain that the sea became calm immediately.
Shandon spoke to the doctor about this phenomenon.
"It confirms the curious observations of the whaler Scoresby, who
laid it before the Royal Society of Edinburgh, of which I have the
honour to be an honorary member. You see that when it rains the waves
are not very high, even under the influence of a violent wind, and
when the weather is dry the sea is more agitated, even when there
is less wind."
"But how is this phenomenon accounted for?"
"Very simply; it is not accounted for at all."
Just then the ice-master, who was keeping watch on the crossbars of
the topsails, signalled a floating mass on the starboard, at about
fifteen miles distance before the wind.
"An iceberg here!" cried the doctor.
Shandon pointed his telescope in the direction indicated, and
confirmed the pilot's announcement.
"That is curious!" said the doctor.
"What! you are astonished at last!" said the commander, laughing.
"I am surprised, but not astonished," answered the doctor, laughing;
"for the brig _Ann_, of Poole, from Greenspond, was caught in 1813
in perfect ice-fields, in the forty-fourth degree of north latitude,
and her captain, Dayernent, counted them by hundreds!"
"I see you can teach us something, even upon that subject."
"Very little," answered Clawbonny modestly; "it is only that ice has
been met with in even lower latitudes."
"I knew that already, doctor, for when I was cabinboy on board the
war-sloop _Fly_----"
"In 1818," continued the doctor, "at the end of March, almost in April,
you passed between two large islands of floating ice under the
forty-second degree of latitude."
"Well, I declare you astonish me!" cried Shandon.
"But the iceberg doesn't astonish me, as we are two degrees further
north."
"You are a well, doctor," answered the commander, "and all we have
to do is to be water-buckets."
"You will draw me dry sooner than you think for; and now, Shandon,
if we could get a nearer look at this phenomenon, I should be the
happiest of doctors."
"Just so, Johnson," said Shandon, calling his boatswain. "It seems
to me that the breeze is getting up."
"Yes, commander," answered Johnson; "we are making very little way,
and the currents of Davis's Straits will soon be against us."
"You are right, Johnson, and if we wish to be in sight of Cape Farewell
on the 20th of April we must put the steam on, or we shall be thrown
on the coasts of Labrador. Mr. Wall, will you give orders to light
the fires?"
The commander's orders were executed, an hour afterwards the steam
was up, the sails were furled, and the screw cutting the waves sent
the _Forward_ against the north-west wind.
CHAPTER VI
THE GREAT POLAR CURRENT
A short time after the flights of birds became more and more numerous.
Petrels, puffins, and mates, inhabitants of those desolate quarters,
signalled the approach of Greenland. The _Forward_ was rapidly
nearing the north, leaving to her leeward a long line of black smoke.
On Tuesday the 17th of April, about eleven o'clock in the morning,
the ice-master signalled the first sight of the ice-blink; it was
about twenty miles to the N.N.W. This glaring white strip was
brilliantly lighted up, in spite of the presence of thick clouds in
the neighbouring parts of the sky. Experienced people on board could
make no mistake about this phenomenon, and declared, from its
whiteness, that the blink was owing to a large ice-field, situated
at about thirty miles out of sight, and that it proceeded from the
reflection of luminous rays. Towards evening the wind turned round
to the south, and became favourable; Shandon put on all sail, and
for economy's sake caused the fires to be put out. The _Forward_,
under her topsails and foresails, glided on towards Cape Farewell.
At three o'clock on the 18th they came across the ice-stream, and
a white thick line of a glaring colour cut brilliantly the lines of
the sea and sky. It was evidently drifting from the eastern coast
of Greenland more than from Davis's Straits, for ice generally keeps
to the west coast of Baffin's Sea. An hour afterwards the _Forward_
passed in the midst of isolated portions of the ice-stream, and in
the most compact parts, the icebergs, though welded together, obeyed
the movements of the swell. The next day the man at the masthead
signalled a vessel. It was the _Valkirien_, a Danish corvette, running
alongside the _Forward_, and making for the bank of Newfoundland.
The current of the Strait began to make itself felt, and Shandon had
to put on sail to go up it. At this moment the commander, the doctor,
James Wall, and Johnson were assembled on the poop examining the
direction and strength of the current. The doctor wanted to know if
the current existed also in Baffin's Sea.
"Without the least doubt," answered Shandon, "and the sailing vessels
have much trouble to stem it."
"Besides there," added Wall, "you meet with it on the eastern coast
of America, as well as on the western coast of Greenland."
"There," said the doctor, "that is what gives very singular reason
to the seekers of the North-West passage! That current runs about
five miles an hour, and it is a little difficult to suppose that it
springs from the bottom of a gulf."
"It is so much the more probable, doctor," replied Shandon, "that
if this current runs from north to south we find in Behring's Straits
a contrary current which runs from south to north, and which must
be the origin of this one."
"According to that," replied the doctor, "we must admit that America
is totally unconnected with the Polar lands, and that the waters of
the Pacific run round the coasts of America into the Atlantic. On
the other hand, the greater elevation of the waters of the Pacific
gives reason to the supposition that they fall into the European
seas."
"But," sharply replied Shandon, "there must be facts to establish
that theory, and if there are any," added he with irony, "our
universally well-informed doctor ought to know them."
"Well," replied the above-mentioned, with amiable satisfaction, "if
it interests you, I can tell you that whales, wounded in Davis's
Straits, are caught some time afterwards in the neighbourhood of
Tartary with the European harpoon still in their flanks."
"And unless they have been able to double Cape Horn or the Cape of
Good Hope," replied Shandon, "they must necessarily have rounded the
septentrional coasts of America--that's what I call indisputable,
doctor."
"However, if you were not convinced, my dear fellow," said the doctor,
smiling, "I could still produce other facts, such as drift-wood, of
which Davis's Straits are full, larch, aspen, and other tropical trees.
Now we know that the Gulf Stream hinders those woods from entering
the Straits. If, then, they come out of it they can only get in from
Behring's Straits."
"I am convinced, doctor, and I avow that it would be difficult to
remain incredulous with you."
"Upon my honour," said Johnson, "there's something that comes just
in time to help our discussion. I perceive in the distance a lump
of wood of certain dimensions; if the commander permits it we'll haul
it in, and ask it the name of its country."
"That's it," said the doctor, "the example after the rule."
Shandon gave the necessary orders; the brig was directed towards the
piece of wood signalled, and soon afterwards, not without trouble,
the crew hoisted it on deck. It was the trunk of a mahogany tree,
gnawed right into the centre by worms, but for which circumstance
it would not have floated.
"This is glorious," said the doctor enthusiastically, "for as the
currents of the Atlantic could not carry it to Davis's Straits, and
as it has not been driven into the Polar basin by the streams of
septentrional America, seeing that this tree grew under the Equator,
it is evident that it comes in a straight line from Behring; and look
here, you see those sea-worms which have eaten it, they belong to
a hot-country species."
"It is evident," replied Wall, "that the people who do not believe
in the famous passage are wrong."
"Why, this circumstance alone ought to convince them," said the
doctor; "I will just trace you out the itinerary of that mahogany;
it has been floated towards the Pacific by some river of the Isthmus
of Panama or Guatemala, from thence the current has dragged it along
the American coast as far as Behring's Straits, and in spite of
everything it was obliged to enter the Polar Seas. It is neither so
old nor so soaked that we need fear to assign a recent date to its
setting out; it has had the good luck to get clear of the obstacles
in that long suite of straits which lead out of Baffin's Bay, and
quickly seized by the boreal current came by Davis's Straits to be
made prisoner by the _Forward_ to the great joy of Dr. Clawbonny,
who asks the commander's permission to keep a sample of it."
"Do so," said Shandon, "but allow me to tell you that you will not
be the only proprietor of such a wreck. The Danish governor of the
Isle of Disko----"
"On the coast of Greenland," continued the doctor, "possesses a
mahogany table made from a trunk fished up under the same
circumstances. I know it, but I don't envy him his table, for if it
were not for the bother, I should have enough there for a whole
bedroom."
During the night, from Wednesday to Thursday, the wind blew with
extreme violence, and driftwood was seen more frequently. Nearing
the coast offered many dangers at an epoch in which icebergs were
so numerous; the commander caused some of the sails to be furled,
and the _Forward_ glided away under her foresail and foremast only.
The thermometer sank below freezing-point. Shandon distributed
suitable clothing to the crew, a woollen jacket and trousers, a
flannel shirt, wadmel stockings, the same as those the Norwegian
country-people wear, and a pair of perfectly waterproof sea-boots.
As to the captain, he contented himself with his natural fur, and
appeared little sensible to the change in the temperature; he had,
no doubt, gone through more than one trial of this kind, and besides,
a Dane had no right to be difficult. He was seen very little, as he
kept himself concealed in the darkest parts of the vessel.
Towards evening the coast of Greenland peeped out through an opening
in the fog. The doctor, armed with his glass, could distinguish for
an instant a line of peaks, ridged with large blocks of ice; but the
fog closed rapidly on this vision, like the curtain of a theatre
falling in the most interesting moment of the piece.
On the morning of the 20th of April the _Forward_ was in sight of
an iceberg a hundred and fifty feet high, stranded there from time
immemorial; the thaws had taken no effect on it, and had respected
its strange forms. Snow saw it; James Ross took an exact sketch of
it in 1829; and in 1851 the French lieutenant Bellot saw it from the
deck of the _Prince Albert_. Of course the doctor wished to keep a
memento of the celebrated mountain, and made a clever sketch of it.
It is not surprising that such masses should be stranded and adhere
to the land, for to each foot above water they have two feet below,
giving, therefore, to this one about eighty fathoms of depth.
At last, under a temperature which at noon was only 12 degrees, under
a snowy and foggy sky, Cape Farewell was perceived. The _Forward_
arrived on the day fixed; if it pleased the unknown captain to come
and occupy his position in such diabolical weather he would have no
cause to complain.
"There you are, then," said the doctor to himself, "cape so celebrated
and so well named! Many have cleared it like us who were destined
never to see it again. Is it, then, an eternal adieu said to one's
European friends? You have all passed it. Frobisher, Knight, Barlow,
Vaughan, Scroggs, Barentz, Hudson, Blosseville, Franklin, Crozier,
Bellot, never to come back to your domestic hearth, and that cape
has been really for you the cape of adieus."
It was about the year 970 that some navigators left Iceland and
discovered Greenland. Sebastian Cabot forced his way as far as
latitude 56 degrees in 1498. Gaspard and Michel Cotreal, in 1500 and
1502, went as far north as 60 degrees; and Martin Frobisher, in 1576,
arrived as far as the bay that bears his name. To John Davis belongs
the honour of having discovered the Straits in 1585; and two years
later, in a third voyage, that bold navigator and great whaler reached
the sixty-third parallel, twenty-seven degrees from the Pole.
Barentz in 1596, Weymouth in 1602, James Hall in 1605 and 1607, Hudson,
whose name was given to that vast bay which hollows out so profoundly
the continent of America, James Poole, in 1611, advanced far into
the Strait in search of that North-West passage the discovery of which
would have considerably shortened the track of communication between
the two worlds. Baffin, in 1616, found the Straits of Lancaster in
the sea that bears his own name; he was followed, in 1619, by James
Munk, and in 1719 by Knight, Barlow, Vaughan, and Scroggs, of whom
no news has ever been heard. In 1776 Lieutenant Pickersgill, sent
out to meet Captain Cook, who tried to go up Behring's Straits, reached
the sixty-eighth degree; the following year Young, for the same
purpose, went as far north as Woman's Island.
Afterwards came Captain James Ross, who, in 1818, rounded the coasts
of Baffin's Sea, and corrected the hydrographic errors of his
predecessors. Lastly, in 1819 and 1820, the celebrated Parry passed
through Lancaster Straits, and penetrated, in spite of unnumbered
difficulties, as far as Melville Island, and won the prize of 5,000
pounds promised by Act of Parliament to the English sailors who would
reach the hundred and seventeenth meridian by a higher latitude than
the seventy-seventh parallel.
In 1826 Beechey touched Chamisso Island; James Ross wintered from
1829 to 1833 in Prince Regent Straits, and amongst other important
works discovered the magnetic pole. During this time Franklin, by
an overland route, traversed the septentrional coasts of America from
the River Mackenzie to Turnagain Point. Captain Back followed in his
steps from 1823 to 1835, and these explorations were completed in
1839 by Messrs. Dease and Simpson and Dr. Rae.
Lastly, Sir John Franklin, wishing to discover the North-West passage,
left England in 1845 on board the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_; he
penetrated into Baffin's Sea, and since his passage across Disko
Island no news had been heard of his expedition.
That disappearance determined the numerous investigations which have
brought about the discovery of the passage, and the survey of these
Polar continents, with such indented coast lines. The most daring
English, French, and American sailors made voyages towards these
terrible countries, and, thanks to their efforts, the maps of that
country, so difficult to make, figured in the list of the Royal
Geographical Society of London. The curious history of these
countries was thus presented to the doctor's imagination as he leaned
on the rail, and followed with his eyes the long track left by the
brig. Thoughts of the bold navigators weighed upon his mind, and he
fancied he could perceive under the frozen arches of the icebergs
the pale ghosts of those who were no more.
CHAPTER VII
DAVIS'S STRAITS
During that day the _Forward_ cut out an easy road amongst the
half-broken ice; the wind was good, but the temperature very low;
the currents of air blowing across the ice-fields brought with them
their penetrating cold. The night required the severest attention;
the floating icebergs drew together in that narrow pass; a hundred
at once were often counted on the horizon; they broke off from the
elevated coasts under the teeth of the grinding waves and the
influence of the spring season, in order to go and melt or to be
swallowed up in the depths of the ocean. Long rafts of wood, with
which it was necessary to escape collision, kept the crew on the alert;
the crow's nest was put in its place on the mizenmast; it consisted
of a cask, in which the ice-master was partly hidden to protect him
from the cold winds while he kept watch over the sea and the icebergs
in view, and from which he signalled danger and sometimes gave orders
to the crew. The nights were short; the sun had reappeared since the
31st of January in consequence of the refraction, and seemed to get
higher and higher above the horizon. But the snow impeded the view,
and if it did not cause complete obscurity it rendered navigation
laborious.
On the 21st of April Desolation Cape appeared in the midst of thick
mists; the crew were tired out with the constant strain on their
energies rendered necessary ever since they had got amongst the
icebergs; the sailors had not had a minute's rest; it was soon
necessary to have recourse to steam to cut a way through the heaped-up
blocks. The doctor and Johnson were talking together on the stern,
whilst Shandon was snatching a few hours' sleep in his cabin.
Clawbonny was getting information from the old sailor, whose numerous
voyages had given him an interesting and sensible education. The
doctor felt much friendship for him, and the boatswain repaid it with
interest.
"You see, Mr. Clawbonny," Johnson used to say, "this country is not
like all others; they call it _Green_land, but there are very few
weeks in the year when it justifies its name."
"Who knows if in the tenth century this land did not justify its name?"
added the doctor. "More than one revolution of this kind has been
produced upon our globe, and I daresay I should astonish you if I
were to tell you that according to Icelandic chronicles two thousand
villages flourished upon this continent about eight or nine hundred
years ago."
"You would so much astonish me, Mr. Clawbonny, that I should have
some difficulty in believing you, for it is a miserable country."
"However miserable it may be, it still offers a sufficient retreat
to its inhabitants, and even to civilised Europeans."
"Without doubt! We met men at Disko and Uppernawik who consented to
live in such climates; but my ideas upon the matter were that they
lived there by compulsion and not by choice."
"I daresay you are right, though men get accustomed to everything,
and the Greenlanders do not appear to me so unfortunate as the workmen
of our large towns; they may be unfortunate, but they are certainly
not unhappy. I say unhappy, but the word does not translate my thought,
for if these people have not the comforts of temperate countries,
they are formed for a rude climate, and find pleasures in it which
we are not able to conceive."
"I suppose we must think so, as Heaven is just. Many, many voyages
have brought me upon these coasts, and my heart always shrinks at
the sight of these wretched solitudes; but they ought to have cheered
up these capes, promontories, and bays with more engaging names, for
Farewell Cape and Desolation Cape are not names made to attract
navigators."
"I have also remarked that," replied the doctor, "but these names
have a geographical interest that we must not overlook. They describe
the adventures of those who gave them those names. Next to the names
of Davis, Baffin, Hudson, Ross, Parry, Franklin, and Bellot, if I
meet with Cape Desolation I soon find Mercy Bay; Cape Providence is
a companion to Port Anxiety; Repulsion Bay brings me back to Cape
Eden, and leaving Turnagain Point I take refuge in Refuge Bay. I have
there under my eyes an unceasing succession of perils, misfortunes,
obstacles, successes, despairs, and issues, mixed with great names
of my country, and, like a series of old-fashioned medals, that
nomenclature retraces in my mind the whole history of these seas."
"You are quite right, Mr. Clawbonny, and I hope we shall meet with
more Success Bays than Despair Capes in our voyage."
"I hope so too, Johnson; but, I say, is the crew come round a little
from its terrors?"
"Yes, a little; but since we got into the Straits they have begun
to talk about the fantastic captain; more than one of them expected
to see him appear at the extremity of Greenland; but between you and
me, doctor, doesn't it astonish you a little too?"
"It does indeed, Johnson."
"Do you believe in the captain's existence?"
"Of course I do."
"But what can be his reasons for acting in that manner?"
"If I really must tell you the whole of my thoughts, Johnson, I believe
that the captain wished to entice the crew far enough out to prevent
them being able to come back. Now if he had been on board when we
started they would all have wanted to know our destination, and he
might have been embarrassed."
"But why so?"
"Suppose he should wish to attempt some superhuman enterprise, and
to penetrate where others have never been able to reach, do you believe
if the crew knew it they would ever have enlisted? As it is, having
got so far, going farther becomes a necessity."
"That's very probable, Mr. Clawbonny. I have known more than one
intrepid adventurer whose name alone was a terror, and who would never
have found any one to accompany him in his perilous expeditions----"
"Excepting me," ventured the doctor.
"And me, after you," answered Johnson, "and to follow you; I can
venture to affirm that our captain is amongst the number of such
adventurers. No matter, we shall soon see; I suppose the unknown will
come as captain on board from the coast of Uppernawik or Melville
Bay, and will tell us at last where it is his good pleasure to conduct
the ship."
"I am of your opinion, Johnson, but the difficulty will be to get
as far as Melville Bay. See how the icebergs encircle us from every
point! They scarcely leave a passage for the _Forward_. Just examine
that immense plain over there."
"The whalers call that in our language an ice-field, that is to say
a continued surface of ice the limits of which cannot be perceived."
"And on that side, that broken field, those long pieces of ice more
or less joined at their edges?"
"That is a pack; if it was of a circular form we should call it a
patch; and, if the form was longer, a stream."
"And there, those floating icebergs?"
"Those are drift-ice; if they were a little higher they would be
icebergs or hills; their contact with vessels is dangerous, and must
be carefully avoided. Here, look over there: on that ice-field there
is a protuberance produced by the pressure of the icebergs; we call
that a hummock; if that protuberance was submerged to its base we
should call it a calf. It was very necessary to give names to all
those forms in order to recognise them."
"It is truly a marvellous spectacle!" exclaimed the doctor,
contemplating the wonders of the Boreal Seas; "there is a field for
the imagination in such pictures!"
"Yes," answered Johnson, "ice often takes fantastic shapes, and our
men are not behindhand in explaining them according to their own
notions."
"Isn't that assemblage of ice-blocks admirable? Doesn't it look like
a foreign town, an Eastern town, with its minarets and mosques under
the pale glare of the moon? Further on there is a long series of Gothic
vaults, reminding one of Henry the Seventh's chapel or the Houses
of Parliament."
"They would be houses and towns very dangerous to inhabit, and we
must not sail too close to them. Some of those minarets yonder totter
on their base, and the least of them would crush a vessel like the
_Forward_."
"And yet sailors dared to venture into these seas before they had
steam at their command! How ever could a sailing vessel be steered
amongst these moving rocks?"
"Nevertheless, it has been accomplished, Mr. Clawbonny. When the wind
became contrary--and that has happened to me more than once--we
quietly anchored to one of those blocks, and we drifted more or less
with it and waited for a favourable moment to set sail again. I must
acknowledge that such a manner of voyaging required months, whilst
with a little good fortune we shall only want a few days."
"It seems to me," said the doctor, "that the temperature has a tendency
to get lower."
"That would be a pity," answered Johnson, "for a thaw is necessary
to break up these masses and drive them away into the Atlantic; besides,
they are more numerous in Davis's Straits, for the sea gets narrower
between Capes Walsingham and Holsteinborg; but on the other side of
the 67th degree we shall find the seas more navigable during the months
of May and June."
"Yes; but first of all we must get to the other side."
"Yes, we must get there, Mr. Clawbonny. In June and July we should
have found an open passage, like the whalers do, but our orders were
precise; we were to be here in April. I am very much mistaken if our
captain has not his reasons for getting us out here so early."
The doctor was right in stating that the temperature was lowering;
the thermometer at noon only indicated 6 degrees, and a north-west
breeze was getting up, which, although it cleared the sky, assisted
the current in precipitating the floating masses of ice into the path
of the _Forward_. All of them did not obey the same impulsion, and
it was not uncommon to encounter some of the highest masses drifting
in an opposite direction, seized at their base by an undercurrent.
It is easy to understand the difficulties of this kind of navigation;
the engineers had not a minute's rest; the engines were worked from
the deck by means of levers, which opened, stopped, and reversed them
according to the orders of the officers on watch. Sometimes the brig
had to hasten through an opening in the ice-fields, sometimes to
struggle against the swiftness of an iceberg which threatened to close
the only practicable issue, or, again, some block, suddenly
overthrown, compelled the brig to back quickly so as not to be crushed
to pieces. This mass of ice, carried along, broken up and amalgamated
by the northern current, crushed up the passage, and if seized by
the frost would oppose an impassable barrier to the passage of the
_Forward_.
Birds were found in innumerable quantities on these coasts, petrels
and other sea-birds fluttered about here and there with deafening
cries, a great number of big-headed, short-necked sea-gulls were
amongst them; they spread out their long wings and braved in their
play the snow whipped by the hurricane. This animation of the winged
tribe made the landscape more lively.
Numerous pieces of wood were floating to leeway, clashing with noise;
a few enormous, bloated-headed sharks approached the vessel, but
there was no question of chasing them, although Simpson, the harpooner,
was longing to have a hit at them. Towards evening several seals made
their appearance, nose above water, swimming between the blocks.
On the 22nd the temperature again lowered; the _Forward_ put on all
steam to catch the favourable passes: the wind was decidedly fixed
in the north-west; all sails were furled.
During that day, which was Sunday, the sailors had little to do. After
the reading of Divine service, which was conducted by Shandon, the
crew gave chase to sea-birds, of which they caught a great number.
They were suitably prepared according to the doctor's method, and
furnished an agreeable increase of provisions to the tables of the
officers and crew.
At three o'clock in the afternoon the _Forward_ had attained Thin
de Sael, Sukkertop Mountain; the sea was very rough; from time to
time a vast and inopportune fog fell from the grey sky; however, at
noon an exact observation could be taken. The vessel was in 65 degrees
20 minutes latitude by 54 degrees 22 minutes longitude. It was
necessary to attain two degrees more in order to meet with freer and
more favourable navigation.
During the three following days, the 24th, 25th, and 26th of April,
the _Forward_ had a continual struggle with the ice; the working of
the machines became very fatiguing. The steam was turned off quickly
or got up again at a moment's notice, and escaped whistling from its
valves. During the thick mist the nearing of icebergs was only known
by dull thundering produced by the avalanches; the brig was instantly
veered; it ran the risk of being crushed against the heaps of
fresh-water ice, remarkable for its crystal transparency, and as hard
as a rock.
Richard Shandon never missed completing his provision of water by
embarking several tons of ice every day. The doctor could not accustom
himself to the optical delusions that refraction produces on these
coasts. An iceberg sometimes appeared to him like a small white lump
within reach, when it was at least at ten or twelve miles' distance.
He endeavoured to accustom his eyesight to this singular phenomenon,
so that he might be able to correct its errors rapidly.
At last the crew were completely worn out by their labours in hauling
the vessel alongside of the ice-fields and by keeping it free from
the most menacing blocks by the aid of long perches. Nevertheless,
the _Forward_ was still held back in the impassable limits of the
Polar Circle on Friday, the 27th of April.
CHAPTER VIII
GOSSIP OF THE CREW
However, the _Forward_ managed, by cunningly slipping into narrow
passages, to gain a few more minutes north; but instead of avoiding
the enemy, it was soon necessary to attack it. The ice-fields, several
miles in extent, were getting nearer, and as these moving heaps often
represent a pressure of more than ten millions of tons, it was
necessary to give a wide berth to their embraces. The ice-saws were
at once installed in the interior of the vessel, in such a manner
as to facilitate immediate use of them. Part of the crew
philosophically accepted their hard work, but the other complained
of it, if it did not refuse to obey. At the same time that they assisted
in the installation of the instruments, Garry, Bolton, Pen and Gripper
exchanged their opinions.
"By Jingo!" said Bolton gaily, "I don't know why the thought strikes
me that there's a very jolly tavern in Water-street where it's
comfortable to be between a glass of gin and a bottle of porter. Can't
you imagine it, Gripper?"
"To tell you the truth," quickly answered the questioned sailor, who
generally professed to be in a bad temper, "I don't imagine it here."
"It's for the sake of talking, Gripper; it's evident that the snow
towns Dr. Clawbonny admires so don't contain the least public where
a poor sailor can get a half-pint of brandy."
"That's sure enough, Bolton; and you may as well add that there's
nothing worth drinking here. It's a nice idea to deprive men of their
grog when they are in the Northern Seas."
"But you know," said Garry, "that the doctor told us it was to prevent
us getting the scurvy. It's the only way to make us go far."
"But I don't want to go far, Garry; it's pretty well to have come
this far without trying to go where the devil is determined we shan't."
"Well, we shan't go, that's all," replied Pen. "I declare I've almost
forgotten the taste of gin."
"But remember what the doctor says," replied Bolton.
"It's all very fine for them to talk. It remains to be seen if it
isn't an excuse for being skinny with the drink."
"Pen may be right, after all," said Gripper.
"His nose is too red for that," answered Bolton. "Pen needn't grumble
if it loses a little of its colour in the voyage."
"What's my nose got to do with you?" sharply replied the sailor,
attacked in the most sensitive place. "My nose doesn't need any of
your remarks; take care of your own."
"Now, then, don't get angry, Pen; I didn't know your nose was so touchy.
I like a glass of whisky as well as anybody, especially in such a
temperature; but if I know it'll do me more harm than good, I go
without."
"You go without," said Warren, the stoker; "but everyone don't go
without."
"What do you mean, Warren?" asked Garry, looking fixedly at him.
"I mean that for some reason or other there are spirits on board,
and I know they don't go without in the stern."
"And how do you know that?" asked Garry.
Warren did not know what to say: he talked for the sake of talking.
"You see Warren don't know anything about it, Garry," said Bolton.
"Well," said Pen, "we'll ask the commander for a ration of gin; we've
earned it well and we'll see what he says."
"I wouldn't if I were you," answered Garry.
"Why?" cried Pen and Gripper.
"Because he'll refuse. You knew you weren't to have any when you
enlisted; you should have thought of it then."
"Besides," replied Bolton, who took Garry's part because he liked
his character, "Richard Shandon isn't master on board; he obeys, like
us."
"Who is master if he isn't?"
"The captain."
"Always that unfortunate captain!" exclaimed Pen. "Don't you see that
on these ice-banks there's no more a captain than there is a public?
It's a polite way of refusing us what we've a right to claim."
"But if there's a captain," replied Bolton, "I'll bet two months'
pay we shall see him before long."
"I should like to tell the captain a bit of my mind," said Pen.
"Who's talking about the captain?" said a new-comer. It was Clifton,
the sailor, a superstitious and envious man. "Is anything new known
about the captain?" he asked.
"No," they all answered at once.
"Well, I believe we shall find him one fine morning installed in his
cabin, and no one will know how he got there."
"Get along, do!" replied Bolton. "Why, Clifton, you imagine that he's
a hobgoblin--a sort of wild child of the Highlands."
"Laugh as much as you like, Bolton, you won't change my opinion. Every
day as I pass his cabin I look through the keyhole. One of these fine
mornings I shall come and tell you what he's like."
"Why, he'll be like everyone else," said Pen, "and if he thinks he'll
be able to do what he likes with us, he'll find himself mistaken,
that's all!"
"Pen don't know him yet," said Bolton, "and he's beginning to quarrel
with him already."
"Who doesn't know him?" said Clifton, looking knowing; "I don't know
that he don't!"
"What the devil do you mean?" asked Gripper.
"I know very well what I mean."
"But we don't."
"Well, Pen has quarrelled with him before."
"With the captain?"
"Yes, the dog-captain--it's all one."
The sailors looked at one another, afraid to say anything.
"Man or dog," muttered Pen, "I declare that that animal will have
his account one of these days."
"Come, Clifton," asked Bolton seriously, "you don't mean to say that
you believe the dog is the real captain?"
"Indeed I do," answered Clifton with conviction. "If you noticed
things like I do, you would have noticed what a queer beast it is."
"Well, tell us what you've noticed."
"Haven't you noticed the way he walks on the poop with such an air
of authority, looking up at the sails as if he were on watch?"
"That's true enough," added Gripper, "and one evening I actually found
him with his paws on the paddle-wheel."
"You don't mean it!" said Bolton.
"And now what do you think he does but go for a walk on the ice-fields,
minding neither the bears nor the cold?"
"That's true enough," said Bolton.
"Do you ever see that 'ere animal, like an honest dog, seek men's
company, sneak about the kitchen, and set his eyes on Mr. Strong when's
he taking something good to the commander? Don't you hear him in the
night when he goes away two or three miles from the vessel, howling
fit to make your blood run cold, as if it weren't easy enough to feel
that sensation in such a temperature as this? Again, have you ever
seen him feed? He takes nothing from any one. His food is always
untouched and unless a secret hand feeds him on board, I may say that
he lives without eating, and if he's not unearthly, I'm a fool!"
"Upon my word," said Bell, the carpenter, who had heard all Clifton's
reasoning, "I shouldn't be surprised if such was the case." The other
sailors were silenced.
"Well, at any rate, where's the _Forward_ going to?"
"I don't know anything about it," replied Bell. "Richard Shandon will
receive the rest of his instructions in due time."
"But from whom?"
"From whom?"
"Yes, how?" asked Bolton, becoming pressing.
"Now then, answer, Bell!" chimed in all the other sailors.
"By whom? how? Why, I don't know," said the carpenter, embarrassed
in his turn.
"Why, by the dog-captain," exclaimed Clifton. "He has written once
already; why shouldn't he again? If I only knew half of what that
'ere animal knows, I shouldn't be embarrassed at being First Lord
of the Admiralty!"
"So then you stick to your opinion that the dog is the captain?"
"Yes."
"Well," said Pen in a hoarse voice, "if that 'ere animal don't want
to turn up his toes in a dog's skin, he's only got to make haste and
become a man, or I'm hanged if I don't settle him."
"What for?" asked Garry.
"Because I choose," replied Pen brutally; "besides, it's no business
of any one."
"Enough talking, my boys," called out Mr. Johnson, interfering just
in time, for the conversation was getting hot. "Get on with your work,
and set up your saws quicker than that. We must clear the iceberg."
"What! on a Friday?" replied Clifton, shrugging his shoulders.
"You'll see she won't get over the Polar circle as easily as you
think."
The efforts of the crew were almost powerless during the whole day.
The _Forward_ could not separate the ice-fields even by going against
them full speed, and they were obliged to anchor for the night. On
Saturday the temperature lowered again under the influence of an
easterly wind. The weather cleared up, and the eye could sweep over
the white plains in the distance, which the reflection of the sun's
rays rendered dazzling. At seven in the morning the thermometer marked
eight degrees below zero. The doctor was tempted to stay quietly in
his cabin, and read the Arctic voyages over again; but, according
to his custom, he asked himself what would be the most disagreeable
thing he could do, which he settled was to go on deck and assist the
men to work in such a temperature. Faithful to the line of conduct
he had traced out for himself, he left his well-warmed cabin and came
to help in hauling the vessel. His was a pleasant face, in spite of
the green spectacles by which he preserved his eyes from the biting
of the reflected rays; in his future observations he was always
careful in making use of his snow spectacles, in order to avoid
ophthalmia, very frequent in these high latitudes.
Towards evening the _Forward_ had made several miles further north,
thanks to the activity of the men and Shandon's skill, which made
him take advantage of every favourable circumstance; at midnight he
had got beyond the sixty-sixth parallel, and the fathom line declared
twenty-three fathoms of water; Shandon discovered that he was on the
shoal where Her Majesty's ship _Victoria_ struck, and that land was
drawing near, thirty miles to the east. But now the heaps of ice,
which up till now had been motionless, divided and began to move;
icebergs seemed coming from every point of the horizon; the brig was
entangled in a series of moving rocks, the crushing force of which
it was impossible to resist. Moving became so difficult that Garry,
the best helmsman, took the wheel; the mountains had a tendency to
close up behind the brig; it then became essential to cut through
the floating ice, and prudence as well as duty ordered them to go
ahead. Difficulties became greater from the impossibility that
Shandon found in establishing the direction of the vessel amongst
such changing points, which kept moving without offering one firm
perspective. The crew was divided into two tacks, larboard and
starboard; each one, armed with a long perch with an iron point, drove
back the two threatening blocks. Soon the _Forward_ entered into a
pass so narrow, between two high blocks, that the extremity of her
yards struck against the walls, hard as rock; by degrees she entangled
herself in the midst of a winding valley, filled up with eddies of
snow, whilst the floating ice was crashing and splitting with sinister
cracklings. But it soon became certain that there was no egress from
this gullet. An enormous block, caught in the channel, was driving
rapidly on to the _Forward_! It seemed impossible to avoid it, and
equally impossible to back out along a road already obstructed.
Shandon and Johnson, standing on the prow, were contemplating the
position. Shandon was pointing with his right hand at the direction
the helmsman was to take, and with his left was conveying to James
Wall, posted near the engineer, his orders for the working of the
machine.
"How will this end?" asked the doctor of Johnson.
"As it may please God," replied the boatswain.
The block of ice, at least a hundred feet high, was only about a cable's
length from the _Forward_, and threatened to pound her under it.
"Cursed luck!" exclaimed Pen, swearing frightfully.
"Silence!" exclaimed a voice which it was impossible to recognise
in the midst of the storm.
The block seemed to be precipitating itself upon the brig; there was
a moment of undefinable anguish; the men forsook their poles and
flocked to the stern in spite of Shandon's orders.
Suddenly a frightful sound was heard; a genuine waterspout fell upon
deck, heaved up by an enormous wave. A cry of terror rang out from
the crew whilst Garry, at the helm, held the _Forward_ in a straight
line in spite of the frightful incumbrance. When their frightened
looks were drawn towards the mountain of ice it had disappeared; the
pass was free, and further on a long channel, illuminated by the
oblique rays of the sun, allowed the brig to pursue her track.
"Well, Mr. Clawbonny," said Johnson, "can you explain to me the cause
of that phenomenon?"
"It is a very simple one," answered the doctor, "and happens very
often. When those floating bodies are disengaged from each other by
the thaw, they sail away separately, maintaining their balance; but
by degrees, as they near the south, where the water is relatively
warmer, their base, shaken by the collision with other icebergs,
begins to melt and weaken; it then happens that their centre of gravity
is displaced, and, naturally, they overturn. Only, if that one had
turned over two minutes later, it would have crushed our vessel to
pieces."
CHAPTER IX
NEWS
The Polar circle was cleared at last. On the 30th of April, at midday,
the _Forward_ passed abreast of Holsteinborg; picturesque mountains
rose up on the eastern horizon. The sea appeared almost free from
icebergs, and the few there were could easily be avoided. The wind
veered round to the south-east, and the brig, under her mizensail,
brigantine, topsails, and her topgallant sail, sailed up Baffin's
Sea. It had been a particularly calm day, and the crew were able to
take a little rest. Numerous birds were swimming and fluttering about
round the vessel; amongst others, the doctor observed some
_alca-alla_, very much like the teal, with black neck, wings and back,
and white breast; they plunged with vivacity, and their immersion
often lasted forty seconds.
The day would not have been remarkable if the following fact, however
extraordinary it may appear, had not occurred on board. At six o'clock
in the morning Richard Shandon, re-entering his cabin after having
been relieved, found upon the table a letter with this address:
"To the Commander,
"RICHARD SHANDON,
"On board the 'FORWARD,'
"Baffin's Sea."
Shandon could not believe his own eyes, and before reading such a
strange epistle he caused the doctor, James Wall and Johnson to be
called, and showed them the letter.
"That grows very strange," said Johnson.
"It's delightful!" thought the doctor.
"At last," cried Shandon, "we shall know the secret."
With a quick hand he tore the envelope and read as follows:
"COMMANDER,--The captain of the _Forward_ is pleased with the
coolness, skill, and courage that your men, your officers, and
yourself have shown on the late occasions, and begs you to give
evidence of his gratitude to the crew.
"Have the goodness to take a northerly direction towards Melville
Bay, and from thence try and penetrate into Smith's Straits.
"THE CAPTAIN OF THE _Forward_,
"K. Z.
"Monday, April 30th,
"Abreast of Cape Walsingham."
"Is that all?" cried the doctor.
"That's all," replied Shandon, and the letter fell from his hands.
"Well," said Wall, "this chimerical captain doesn't even mention
coming on board, so I conclude that he never will come."
"But how did this letter get here?" said Johnson.
Shandon was silent.
"Mr. Wall is right," replied the doctor, after picking up the letter
and turning it over in every direction; "the captain won't come on
board for an excellent reason----"
"And what's that?" asked Shandon quickly.
"Because he is here already," replied the doctor simply.
"Already!" said Shandon. "What do you mean?"
"How do you explain the arrival of this letter if such is not the
case?"
Johnson nodded his head in sign of approbation.
"It is not possible!" said Shandon energetically. "I know every man
of the crew. We should have to believe, in that case, that the captain
has been with us ever since we set sail. It is not possible, I tell
you. There isn't one of them that I haven't seen for more than two
years in Liverpool; doctor, your supposition is inadmissible."
"Then what do you admit, Shandon?"
"Everything but that! I admit that the captain, or one of his men,
has profited by the darkness, the fog, or anything you like, in order
to slip on board; we are not very far from land; there are Esquimaux
kayaks that pass unperceived between the icebergs; someone may have
come on board and left the letter; the fog was intense enough to favour
their design."
"And to hinder them from seeing the brig," replied the doctor; "if
we were not able to perceive an intruder slip on board, how could
_he_ have discovered the _Forward_ in the midst of a fog?"
"That is evident," exclaimed Johnson.
"I come back, then," said the doctor, "to my first hypothesis. What
do you think about it, Shandon?"
"I think what you please," replied Shandon fiercely, "with the
exception of supposing that this man is on board my vessel."
"Perhaps," added Wall, "there may be amongst the crew a man of his
who has received instructions from him."
"That's very likely," added the doctor.
"But which man?" asked Shandon. "I tell you I have known all my men
a long time."
"Anyhow," replied Johnson, "if this captain shows himself, let him
be man or devil, we'll receive him; but we have another piece of
information to draw from this letter."
"What's that?" asked Shandon.
"Why, that we are to direct our path not only towards Melville Bay,
but again into Smith's Straits."
"You are right," answered the doctor.
"Smith's Straits?" echoed Shandon mechanically.
"It is evident," replied Johnson, "that the destination of the
_Forward_ is not to seek a North-West passage, as we shall leave to
our left the only track that leads to it--that is to say, Lancaster
Straits; that's what forebodes us difficult navigation in unknown
seas."
"Yes, Smith's Straits," replied Shandon, "that's the route the
American Kane followed in 1853, and at the price of what dangers!
For a long time he was thought to be lost in those dreadful latitudes!
However, as we must go, go we must. But where? how far? To the Pole?"
"And why not?" cried the doctor.
The idea of such an insane attempt made the boatswain shrug his
shoulders.
"After all," resumed James Wall, "to come back to the captain, if
he exists, I see nowhere on the coast of Greenland except Disko or
Uppernawik where he can be waiting for us; in a few days we shall
know what we may depend upon."
"But," asked the doctor of Shandon, "aren't you going to make known
the contents of that letter to the crew?"
"With the commander's permission," replied Johnson, "I should do
nothing of the kind."
"And why so?" asked Shandon.
"Because all that mystery tends to discourage the men: they are
already very anxious about the fate of our expedition, and if the
supernatural side of it is increased it may produce very serious
results, and in a critical moment we could not rely upon them. What
do you say about it, commander?"
"And you, doctor--what do you think?" asked Shandon.
"I think Johnson's reasoning is just."
"And you, Wall?"
"Unless there's better advice forthcoming, I shall stick to the
opinion of these gentlemen."
Shandon reflected seriously during a few minutes, and read the letter
over again carefully.
"Gentlemen," said he, "your opinion on this subject is certainly
excellent, but I cannot adopt it."
"Why not, Shandon?" asked the doctor.
"Because the instructions of this letter are formal: they command
me to give the captain's congratulations to the crew, and up till
to-day I have always blindly obeyed his orders in whatever manner
they have been transmitted to me, and I cannot----"
"But----" said Johnson, who rightly dreaded the effect of such a
communication upon the minds of the sailors.
"My dear Johnson," answered Shandon, "your reasons are excellent,
but read--'he begs you to give evidence of his gratitude to the crew.'"
"Act as you think best," replied Johnson, who was besides a very strict
observer of discipline. "Are we to muster the crew on deck?"
"Do so," replied Shandon.
The news of a communication having been received from the captain
spread like wildfire on deck; the sailors quickly arrived at their
post, and the commander read out the contents of the mysterious letter.
The reading of it was received in a dead silence; the crew dispersed,
a prey to a thousand suppositions. Clifton had heard enough to give
himself up to all the wanderings of his superstitious imagination;
he attributed a considerable share in this incident to the dog-captain,
and when by chance he met him in his passage he never failed to salute
him. "I told you the animal could write," he used to say to the sailors.
No one said anything in answer to this observation, and even Bell,
the carpenter himself, would not have known what to answer.
Nevertheless it was certain to all that, in default of the captain,
his spirit or his shadow watched on board; and henceforward the wisest
of the crew abstained from exchanging their opinions about him.
On the 1st of May, at noon, they were in 68 degrees latitude and 56
degrees 32 minutes longitude. The temperature was higher and the
thermometer marked twenty-five degrees above zero. The doctor was
amusing himself with watching the antics of a white bear and two cubs
on the brink of a pack that lengthened out the land. Accompanied by
Wall and Simpson, he tried to give chase to them by means of the canoe;
but the animal, of a rather warlike disposition, rapidly led away
its offspring, and consequently the doctor was compelled to renounce
following them up.
Chilly Cape was doubled during the night under the influence of a
favourable wind, and soon the high mountains of Disko rose in the
horizon. Godhavn Bay, the residence of the Governor-General of the
Danish Settlements, was left to the right. Shandon did not consider
it worth while to stop, and soon outran the Esquimaux pirogues who
were endeavouring to reach his ship.
The Island of Disko is also called Whale Island. It was from this
point that on the 12th of July, 1845, Sir John Franklin wrote to the
Admiralty for the last time. It was also on that island on the 27th
of August, 1859, that Captain McClintock set foot on his return,
bringing back, alas! proofs too complete of the loss of the expedition.
The coincidence of these two facts were noted by the doctor; that
melancholy conjunction was prolific in memories, but soon the heights
of Disko disappeared from his view.
There were, at that time, numerous icebergs on the coasts, some of
those which the strongest thaws are unable to detach; the continual
series of ridges showed themselves under the strangest forms.
The next day, towards three o'clock, they were bearing on to Sanderson
Hope to the north-east. Land was left on the starboard at a distance
of about fifteen miles; the mountains seemed tinged with a
red-coloured bistre. During the evening, several whales of the
finners species, which have fins on their backs, came playing about
in the midst of the ice-trails, throwing out air and water from their
blow-holes. It was during the night between the 3rd and 4th of May
that the doctor saw for the first time the sun graze the horizon
without dipping his luminous disc into it. Since the 31st of January
the days had been getting longer and longer till the sun went down
no more. To strangers not accustomed to the persistence of this
perpetual light it was a constant subject of astonishment, and even
of fatigue; it is almost impossible to understand to what extent
obscurity is requisite for the well-being of our eyes. The doctor
experienced real pain in getting accustomed to this light, rendered
still more acute by the reflection of the sun's rays upon the plains
of ice.
On May 5th the _Forward_ headed the seventy-second parallel; two
months later they would have met with numerous whalers under these
high latitudes, but at present the straits were not sufficiently open
to allow them to penetrate into Baffin's Bay. The following day the
brig, after having headed Woman's Island, came in sight of Uppernawik,
the most northerly settlement that Denmark possesses on these coasts.
CHAPTER X
DANGEROUS NAVIGATION
Shandon, Dr. Clawbonny, Johnson, Foker, and Strong, the cook, went
on shore in the small boat. The governor, his wife, and five children,
all of the Esquimaux race, came politely to meet the visitors. The
doctor knew enough Danish to enable him to establish a very agreeable
acquaintance with them; besides, Foker, who was interpreter of the
expedition, as well as ice-master, knew about twenty words of the
Greenland language, and if not ambitious, twenty words will carry
you far. The governor was born on the island, and had never left his
native country. He did the honours of the town, which is composed
of three wooden huts, for himself and the Lutheran minister, of a
school, and magazines stored with the produce of wrecks. The remainder
consists of snow-huts, the entrance to which is attained by creeping
through a hole.
The greater part of the population came down to greet the _Forward_,
and more than one native advanced as far as the middle of the bay
in his kayak, fifteen feet long and scarcely two wide. The doctor
knew that the word Esquimaux signified raw-fish-eater, and he
likewise knew that the name was considered an insult in the country,
for which reason he did not fail to address them by the title of
Greenlanders, and nevertheless only by the look of their oily sealskin
clothing, their boots of the same material, and all their greasy
tainted appearance, it was easy to discover their accustomed food.
Like all Ichthyophagans, they were half-eaten up with leprosy; and
yet, for all that, were in no worse health.
The Lutheran minister and his wife, with whom the doctor promised
himself a private chat, were on a journey towards Proven on the south
of Uppernawik; he was therefore reduced to getting information out
of the governor. This chief magistrate did not seem to be very learned;
a little less and he would have been an ass, a little more and he
would have known how to read. The doctor, however, questioned him
upon the commercial affairs, the customs and manners of the Esquimaux,
and learnt by signs that seals were worth about 40 pounds delivered
in Copenhagen, a bearskin forty Danish dollars, a blue foxskin four,
and a white one two or three dollars. The doctor also wished, with
an eye to completing his personal education, to visit one of the
Esquimaux huts; it is almost impossible to imagine of what a learned
man who is desirous of knowledge is capable. Happily the opening of
those hovels was too narrow, and the enthusiastic fellow was not able
to crawl in; it was very lucky for him, for there is nothing more
repulsive than that accumulation of things living and dead, seal flesh
or Esquimaux flesh, rotten fish and infectious wearing apparel, which
constitute a Greenland hovel; no window to revive the unbreathable
air, only a hole at the top of the hut, which gives free passage to
the smoke, but does not allow the stench to go out.
Foker gave these details to the doctor, who did not curse his
corpulence the less for that. He wished to judge for himself about
these emanations, _sui generis_.
"I am sure," said he, "one gets used to it in the long run."
_In the long run_ depicts Dr. Clawbonny in a single phrase. During
the ethnographical studies of the worthy doctor, Shandon, according
to his instructions, was occupied in procuring means of transport
to cross the ice. He had to pay 4 pounds for a sledge and six dogs,
and even then he had great difficulty in persuading the natives to
part with them. Shandon wanted also to engage Hans Christian, the
clever dog-driver, who made one of the party of Captain McClintock's
expedition; but, unfortunately, Hans was at that time in Southern
Greenland. Then came the grand question, the topic of the day, was
there in Uppernawik a European waiting for the passage of the
_Forward_? Did the governor know if any foreigner, an Englishman
probably, had settled in those countries? To what epoch could he trace
his last relations with whale or other ships? To these questions the
governor replied that not one single foreigner had landed on that
side of the coast for more than ten months.
Shandon asked for the names of the last whalers seen there; he knew
none of them. He was in despair.
"You must acknowledge, doctor, that all this is quite inconceivable.
Nothing at Cape Farewell, nothing at Disko Island, nothing at
Uppernawik."
"If when we get there you repeat 'Nothing in Melville Bay,' I shall
greet you as the only captain of the _Forward_."
The small boat came back to the brig towards evening, bringing back
the visitors. Strong, in order to change the food a little, had
procured several dozens of eider-duck eggs, twice as big as hens'
eggs, and of greenish colour. It was not much, but the change was
refreshing to a crew fed on salted meat. The wind became favourable
the next day, but, however, Shandon did not command them to get under
sail; he still wished to stay another day, and for conscience' sake
to give any human being time to join the _Forward_. He even caused
the 16-pounder to be fired from hour to hour; it thundered out with
a great crash amidst the icebergs, but the noise only frightened the
swarms of molly-mokes and rotches. During the night several rockets
were sent up, but in vain. And thus they were obliged to set sail.
On the 8th of May, at six o'clock in the morning, the _Forward_ under
her topsails, foresails, and topgallant, lost sight of the Uppernawik
settlement, and the hideous stakes to which were hung seal-guts and
deer-paunches. The wind was blowing from the south-east, and the
temperature went up to thirty-two degrees. The sun pierced through
the fog, and the ice was getting a little loosened under its dissolving
action. But the reflection of the white rays produced a sad effect
on the eyesight of several of the crew. Wolsten, the gunsmith, Gripper,
Clifton, and Bell were struck with snow blindness, a kind of weakness
in the eyes very frequent in spring, and which determines, amongst
the Esquimaux, numerous cases of blindness. The doctor advised those
who were so afflicted and their companions in general to cover their
faces with green gauze, and he was the first to put his own
prescription into execution.
The dogs bought by Shandon at Uppernawik were of a rather savage nature,
but in the end they became accustomed to the ship; the captain did
not take the arrival of these new comrades too much to heart, and
he seemed to know their habits. Clifton was not the last to remark
the fact that the captain must already have been in communication
with his Greenland brethren, as on land they were always famished
and reduced by incomplete nourishment; they only thought of
recruiting themselves by the diet on board.
On the 9th of May the _Forward_ touched within a few cables' length
the most westerly of the Baffin Isles. The doctor noticed several
rocks in the bay between the islands and the continent, those called
Crimson Cliffs; they were covered over with snow as red as carmine,
to which Dr. Kane gives a purely vegetable origin. Clawbonny wanted
to consider this phenomenon nearer, but the ice prevented them
approaching the coast; although the temperature had a tendency to
rise, it was easy enough to see that the icebergs and ice-streams
were accumulating to the north of Baffin's Sea. The land offered a
very different aspect from that of Uppernawik; immense glaciers were
outlined on the horizon against a greyish sky. On the 10th the
_Forward_ left Hingston Bay on the right, near to the seventy-fourth
degree of latitude. Several hundred miles westward the Lancaster
Channel opened out into the sea.
But afterwards that immense extent of water disappeared under
enormous fields of ice, upon which hummocks rose up as regularly as
a crystallisation of the same substance. Shandon had the steam put
on, and up to the 11th of May the _Forward_ wound amongst the sinuous
rocks, leaving the print of a track on the sky, caused by the black
smoke from her funnels. But new obstacles were soon encountered; the
paths were getting closed up in consequence of the incessant
displacement of the floating masses; at every minute a failure of
water in front of the _Forward's_ prow became imminent, and if she
had been nipped it would have been difficult to extricate her. They
all knew it, and thought about it.
On board this vessel, without aim or known destination, foolishly
seeking to advance towards the north, some symptoms of hesitation
were manifested amongst those men, accustomed to an existence of
danger; many, forgetting the advantages offered, regretted having
ventured so far, and already a certain demoralisation prevailed in
their minds, still more increased by Clifton's fears, and the idle
talk of two or three of the leaders, such as Pen, Gripper, Warren,
and Wolston.
To the uneasiness of the crew were joined overwhelming fatigues, for
on the 12th of May the brig was closed in on every side; her steam
was powerless, and it was necessary to force a road through the
ice-fields. The working of the saws was very difficult in the floes,
which measured from six to seven feet in thickness. When two parallel
grooves divided the ice for the length of a hundred feet, they had
to break the interior part with hatchets or handspikes; then took
place the elongation of the anchors, fixed in a hole by means of a
thick auger; afterwards the working of the capstan began, and in this
way the vessel was hauled over. The greatest difficulty consisted
in driving the smashed pieces under the floes in order to open up
a free passage for the ship, and to thrust them away they were
compelled to use long iron-spiked poles.
At last, what with the working of the saws, the hauling, the capstan
and poles, incessant, dangerous, and forced work, in the midst of
fogs or thick snow, the temperature relatively low, ophthalmic
suffering and moral uneasiness, all contributed to discourage the
crew, and react on the men's imagination. When sailors have an
energetic, audacious, and convinced man to do with, who knows what
he wants, where he is bound for, and what end he has in view, confidence
sustains them in spite of everything. They make one with their chief,
feeling strong in his strength, and quiet in his tranquillity; but
on the brig it was felt that the commander was not sure of himself,
that he hesitated before his unknown end and destination. In spite
of his energetic nature, his weakness showed itself in his changing
orders, incomplete manoeuvres, stormy reflections, and a thousand
details which could not escape the notice of the crew.
Besides, Shandon was not captain of the ship, a sufficient reason
for argument about his orders; from argument to a refusal to obey
the step is easy. The discontented soon added to their number the
first engineer, who up to now had remained a slave to his duty.
On May 16th, six days after the _Forward's_ arrival at the icebergs,
Shandon had not gained two miles northward, and the ice threatened
to freeze in the brig till the following season. This was becoming
dangerous. Towards eight in the evening Shandon and the doctor,
accompanied by Garry, went on a voyage of discovery in the midst of
the immense plains; they took care not to go too far away from the
vessel, as it was difficult to fix any landmarks in those white
solitudes, the aspects of which changed constantly.
The refraction produced strange effects; they still astonished the
doctor; where he thought he had only one foot to leap he found it
was five or six, or the contrary; and in both cases the result was
a fall, if not dangerous, at least painful, on the frozen ice as hard
as glass.
Shandon and his two companions went in search of a practicable passage.
Three miles from the ship they succeeded, not without trouble, in
climbing the iceberg, which was perhaps three hundred feet high.
From this point their view extended over that desolated mass which
looked like the ruins of a gigantic town with its beaten-down obelisks,
its overthrown steeples and palaces turned upside down all in a
lump--in fact, a genuine chaos. The sun threw long oblique rays of
a light without warmth, as if heat-absorbing substances were placed
between it and that gloomy country. The sea seemed to be frozen to
the remotest limits of view.
"How shall we get through?" exclaimed the doctor.
"I have not the least idea," replied Shandon; "but we will get through,
even if we are obliged to employ powder to blow up those mountains,
for I certainly won't let that ice shut me up till next spring."
"Nevertheless, such was the fate of the _Fox_, almost in these same
quarters. Never mind," continued the doctor, "we shall get through
with a little philosophy. Believe me, that is worth all the engines
in the world."
"You must acknowledge," replied Shandon, "that the year doesn't begin
under very favourable auspices."
"That is incontestable, and I notice that Baffin's Sea has a tendency
to return to the same state in which it was before 1817."
"Then you think, doctor, that the present state of things has not
always existed?"
"Yes; from time to time there are vast breakings up which scientific
men can scarcely explain; thus, up to 1817 this sea was constantly
obstructed, when suddenly an immense cataclysm took place which drove
back these icebergs into the ocean, the great part of which were
stranded on Newfoundland Bank. From that time Baffin's Bay has been
almost free, and has become the haunt of numerous whalers."
"Then, since that epoch, voyages to the north have been easier?"
"Incomparably so; but for the last few years it has been observed
that the bay has a tendency to be closed up again, and according to
investigations made by navigators, it may probably be so for a long
time--a still greater reason for us to go on as far as possible. Just
now we look like people who get into unknown galleries, the doors
of which are always shut behind them."
"Do you advise me to back out?" asked Shandon, endeavouring to read
the answer in the doctor's eyes.
"I! I have never known how to take a step backward, and should we
never return, I say 'Go ahead.' However, I should like to make known
to you that if we do anything imprudent, we know very well what we
are exposed to."
"Well, Garry, what do you think about it?" asked Shandon of the sailor.
"I? Commander, I should go on; I'm of the same opinion as Mr.
Clawbonny; but you do as you please; command, and we will obey."
"They don't all speak like you, Garry," replied Shandon. "They aren't
all in an obedient humour! Suppose they were to refuse to execute
my orders?"
"Commander," replied Garry coldly, "I have given you my advice because
you asked me for it; but you are not obliged to act upon it."
Shandon did not reply; he attentively examined the horizon, and
descended with his two companions on to the ice-field.
CHAPTER XI
THE DEVIL'S THUMB
During the commander's absence the men had gone through divers works
in order to make the ship fit to avoid the pressure of the ice-fields.
Pen, Clifton, Gripper, Bolton, and Simpson were occupied in this
laborious work; the stoker and the two engineers were even obliged
to come to the aid of their comrades, for, from the instant they were
not wanted at the engine, they again became sailors, and, as such,
they could be employed in all kinds of work on board. But this was
not accomplished without a great deal of grumbling.
"I'll tell you what," said Pen, "I've had enough of it, and if in
three days the breaking up isn't come, I'll swear to God that I'll
chuck up!"
"You'll chuck up?" replied Gripper; "you'd do better to help us to
back out. Do you think we are in the humour to winter here till next
year?"
"To tell you the truth, it would be a dreary winter," said Plover,
"for the ship is exposed from every quarter."
"And who knows," added Brunton, "if even next spring we should find
the sea freer than it is now?"
"We aren't talking about next spring," said Pen; "to-day's Thursday;
if next Sunday morning the road ain't clear, we'll back out south."
"That's the ticket!" cried Clifton.
"Are you all agreed?" said Pen.
"Yes," answered all his comrades.
"That's right enough," answered Warren, "for if we are obliged to
work like this, hauling the ship by the strength of our arms, my advice
is to backwater."
"We'll see about that on Sunday," answered Wolsten.
"As soon as I get the order," said Brunton, "I'll soon get my steam
up."
"Or we'd manage to get it up ourselves," said Clifton.
"If any of the officers," said Pen, "wants to have the pleasure of
wintering here, we'll let him. He can build himself a snow-hut like
the Esquimaux."
"Nothing of the kind, Pen," replied Brunton; "we won't leave anybody.
You understand that, you others. Besides, I don't think it would be
difficult to persuade the commander; he already seems very uncertain,
and if we were quietly to propose it----"
"I don't know that," said Plover; "Richard Shandon is a hard,
headstrong man, and we should have to sound him carefully."
"When I think," replied Bolton, with a covetous sigh, "that in a month
we might be back in Liverpool; we could soon clear the southern
ice-line. The pass in Davis's Straits will be open in the beginning
of June, and we shall only have to let ourselves drift into the
Atlantic."
"Besides," said the prudent Clifton, "if we bring back the commander
with us, acting under his responsibility, our pay and bounty money
will be sure; whilst if we return alone it won't be so certain."
"That's certain!" said Plover; "that devil of a Clifton speaks like
a book. Let us try to have nothing to explain to the Admiralty; it's
much safer to leave no one behind us."
"But if the officers refuse to follow us?" replied Pen, who wished
to push his comrades to an extremity.
To such a question they were puzzled to reply.
"We shall see about it when the time comes," replied Bolton; "besides,
it would be enough to win Richard Shandon over to our side. We shall
have no difficulty about that."
"Anyhow," said Pen, swearing, "there's something I'll leave here if
I get an arm eaten in the attempt."
"Ah! you mean the dog," said Plover.
"Yes, the dog; and before long I'll settle his hash!"
"The more so," replied Clifton, coming back to his favourite theme,
"that the dog is the cause of all our misfortunes."
"He's cast an evil spell over us," said Plover.
"It's through him we're in an iceberg," said Gripper.
"He's the cause that we've had more ice against us than has ever been
seen at this time of year," said Wolsten.
"He's the cause of my bad eyes," said Brunton.
"He's cut off the gin and brandy," added Pen.
"He's the cause of everything," said the assembly, getting excited.
"And he's captain into the bargain!" cried Clifton.
"Well, captain of ill-luck," said Pen, whose unreasonable fury grew
stronger at every word; "you wanted to come here, and here you'll
stay."
"But how are we to nap him?" said Plover.
"We've a good opportunity," replied Clifton; "the commander isn't
on deck, the lieutenant is asleep in his cabin, and the fog's thick
enough to stop Johnson seeing us."
"But where's the dog?" cried Pen.
"He's asleep near the coalhole," replied Clifton, "and if anybody
wants----"
"I'll take charge of him," answered Pen furiously.
"Look out, Pen, he's got teeth that could snap an iron bar in two."
"If he moves I'll cut him open," cried Pen, taking his knife in one
hand. He bounced in between decks, followed by Warren, who wanted
to help him in his undertaking. They quickly came back, carrying the
animal in their arms, strongly muzzled, with his paws bound tightly
together. They had taken him by surprise whilst he slept, so that
the unfortunate dog could not escape them.
"Hurrah for Pen!" cried Plover.
"What do you mean to do with him now you've got him?" asked Clifton.
"Why, drown him, and if ever he gets over it----" replied Pen, with
a fearful smile of satisfaction.
About two hundred steps from the vessel there was a seal-hole, a kind
of circular crevice cut out by the teeth of that amphibious animal,
hollowed out from underneath, and through which the seal comes up
to breathe on to the surface of the ice. To keep this aperture from
closing up he has to be very careful because the formation of his
jaws would not enable him to bore through the hole again from the
outside, and in a moment of danger he would fall a prey to his enemies.
Pen and Warren directed their steps towards this crevice, and there,
in spite of the dog's energetic efforts, he was unmercifully
precipitated into the sea. An enormous lump of ice was then placed
over the opening, thus closing all possible issue to the poor animal,
walled up in a watery prison.
"Good luck to you, captain," cried the brutal sailor.
Shortly afterwards Pen and Warren returned on deck. Johnson had seen
nothing of this performance. The fog thickened round about the ship,
and snow began to fall with violence. An hour later, Richard Shandon,
the doctor, and Garry rejoined the _Forward_. Shandon had noticed
a pass in a north-eastern direction of which he was resolved to take
advantage, and gave his orders in consequence. The crew obeyed with
a certain activity, not without hinting to Shandon that it was
impossible to go further on, and that they only gave him three more
days' obedience. During a part of the night and the following day
the working of the saws and the hauling were actively kept up; the
_Forward_ gained about two miles further north. On the 18th she was
in sight of land, and at five or six cable-lengths from a peculiar
peak, called from its strange shape the Devil's Thumb.
It was there that the _Prince Albert_ in 1851, and the _Advance_ with
Kane, in 1853, were kept prisoners by the ice for several weeks. The
odd form of the Devil's Thumb, the dreary deserts in its vicinity,
the vast circus of icebergs--some of them more than three hundred
feet high--the cracking of the ice, reproduced by the echo in so
sinister a manner, rendered the position of the _Forward_ horribly
dreary. Shandon understood the necessity of getting out of it and
going further ahead. Twenty-four hours later, according to his
estimation, he had been able to clear the fatal coast for about two
miles, but this was not enough. Shandon, overwhelmed with fear, and
the false situation in which he was placed, lost both courage and
energy; in order to obey his instructions and get further north, he
had thrown his vessel into an excessively perilous situation. The
men were worn out by the hauling; it required more than three hours
to hollow out a channel twenty feet long, through ice that was usually
from four to five feet thick. The health of the crew threatened to
break down. Shandon was astonished at the silence of his men and their
unaccustomed obedience, but he feared that it was the calm before
the storm. Who can judge, then, of his painful disappointment,
surprise, and despair when he perceived that in consequence of an
insensible movement of the ice-field the _Forward_ had, during the
night from the 18th to the 19th, lost all the advantage she had gained
with so much toil? On the Saturday morning they were once more opposite
the ever-threatening Devil's Thumb, and in a still more critical
position. The icebergs became more numerous, and drifted by in the
fog like phantoms. Shandon was in a state of complete demoralisation,
for fright had taken possession of the dauntless man and his crew.
Shandon had heard the dog's disappearance spoken about, but dared
not punish those who were guilty of it. He feared that a rebellion
might be the consequence. The weather was fearful during the whole
day; the snow rose up in thick whirlpools, wrapping up the _Forward_
in an impenetrable cloak. Sometimes, under the action of the storm,
the fog was torn asunder, and displayed towards land, raised up like
a spectre, the Devil's Thumb.
The _Forward_ was anchored to an immense block of ice; it was all
that could be done; there was nothing more to attempt; the obscurity
became denser, and the man at the helm could not see James Wall, who
was on duty in the bow. Shandon withdrew to his cabin, a prey to
unremitting uneasiness; the doctor was putting his voyage notes in
order; one half the crew remained on deck, the other half stayed in
the common cabin. At one moment, when the storm increased in fury,
the Devil's Thumb seemed to rise up out of all proportion in the midst
of the fog.
"Good God!" cried Simpson, drawing back with fright.
"What the devil's that?" said Foker, and exclamations rose up in every
direction.
"It is going to smash us!"
"We are lost!"
"Mr. Wall! Mr. Wall!"
"It's all over with us!"
"Commander! Commander!"
These cries were simultaneously uttered by the men on watch. Wall
fled to the quarter-deck, and Shandon, followed by the doctor, rushed
on deck to look. In the midst of the fog the Devil's Thumb seemed
to have suddenly neared the brig, and seemed to have grown in a most
fantastic manner. At its summit rose up a second cone, turned upside
down and spindled on its point; its enormous mass threatened to crush
the ship, as it was oscillating and ready to fall. It was a most fearful
sight; every one instinctively drew back, and several sailors,
leaping on to the ice, abandoned the ship.
"Let no one move!" cried the commander in a severe voice. "Every one
to his post!"
"How now, my friends? There's nothing to be frightened at!" said the
doctor. "There's no danger! Look, commander, look ahead, Mr. Wall;
it's only an effect of the mirage, nothing else."
"You are quite right, Mr. Clawbonny," answered Johnson; "those fools
were frightened at a shadow."
After the doctor had spoken most of the sailors drew near, and their
fear changed to admiration at the wonderful phenomenon, which shortly
disappeared from sight.
"They call that a mirage?" said Clifton. "Well, you may believe me
that the devil has something to do with it."
"That's certain!" replied Gripper.
But when the fog cleared away it disclosed to the eyes of the commander
an immense free and unexpected passage; it seemed to run away from
the coast, and he therefore determined to seize such a favourable
hazard. Men were placed on each side of the creek, hawsers were lowered
down to them, and they began to tow the vessel in a northerly direction.
During long hours this work was actively executed in silence. Shandon
caused the steam to be got up, in order to take advantage of the
fortunate discovery of this channel.
"This," said he to Johnson, "is a most providential hazard, and if
we can only get a few miles ahead, we shall probably get to the end
of our misfortunes."
"Brunton! stir up the fires, and as soon as there's enough pressure
let me know. In the meantime our men will pluck up their courage--that
will be so much gained. They are in a hurry to run away from the Devil's
Thumb; we'll take advantage of their good inclinations!"
All at once the progress of the _Forward_ was abruptly arrested.
"What's up?" cried Shandon. "I say, Wall! have we broken our
tow-ropes?"
"Not at all, commander," answered Wall, looking over the side. "Hallo!
Here are the men coming back again. They are climbing the ship's side
as if the devil was at their heels."
"What the deuce can it be?" cried Shandon, rushing forward.
"On board! On board!" cried the terrified sailors.
Shandon looked in a northerly direction, and shuddered in spite of
himself. A strange animal, with appalling movements, whose foaming
tongue emerged from enormous jaws, was leaping about at a cable's
length from the ship. In appearance he seemed to be about twenty feet
high, with hair like bristles; he was following up the sailors, whilst
his formidable tail, ten feet long, was sweeping the snow and throwing
it up in thick whirlwinds. The sight of such a monster riveted the
most daring to the spot.
"It's a bear!" said one.
"It's the Gevaudan beast!"
"It's the lion of the Apocalypse!"
Shandon ran to his cabin for a gun he always kept loaded. The doctor
armed himself, and held himself in readiness to fire upon an animal
which, by its dimensions, recalled the antediluvian quadrupeds. He
neared the ship in immense leaps; Shandon and the doctor fired at
the same time, when, suddenly, the report of their firearms, shaking
the atmospheric stratum, produced an unexpected effect. The doctor
looked attentively, and burst out laughing.
"It's the refraction!" he exclaimed.
"Only the refraction!" repeated Shandon. But a fearful exclamation
from the crew interrupted them.
"The dog!" said Clifton.
"The dog, captain!" repeated all his comrades.
"Himself!" cried Pen; "always that cursed brute."
They were not mistaken--it was the dog. Having got loose from his
shackles, he had regained the surface by another crevice. At that
instant the refraction, through a phenomenon common to these
latitudes, caused him to appear under formidable dimensions, which
the shaking of the air had dispersed; but the vexatious effect was
none the less produced upon the minds of the sailors, who were very
little disposed to admit an explanation of the fact by purely physical
reasons. The adventure of the Devil's Thumb, the reappearance of the
dog under such fantastic circumstances, gave the finishing touch to
their mental faculties, and murmurs broke out on all sides.
CHAPTER XII
CAPTAIN HATTERAS
The _Forward_, under steam, rapidly made its way between the
ice-mountains and the icebergs. Johnson was at the wheel. Shandon,
with his snow spectacles, was examining the horizon, but his joy was
of short duration, for he soon discovered that the passage ended in
a circus of mountains. However, he preferred going on, in spite of
the difficulty, to going back. The dog followed the brig at a long
distance, running along the plain, but if he lagged too far behind
a singular whistle could be distinguished, which he immediately
obeyed. The first time this whistle was heard the sailors looked round
about them; they were alone on deck all together, and no stranger
was to be seen; and yet the whistle was again heard from time to time.
Clifton was the first alarmed.
"Do you hear?" said he. "Just look how that animal answers when he
hears the whistle."
"I can scarcely believe my eyes," answered Gripper.
"It's all over!" cried Pen. "I don't go any further."
"Pen's right!" replied Brunton; "it's tempting God!"
"Tempting the devil!" replied Clifton. "I'd sooner lose my bounty
money than go a step further."
"We shall never get back!" said Bolton in despair.
The crew had arrived at the highest pitch of insubordination.
"Not a step further!" cried Wolsten. "Are you all of the same mind?"
"Ay! ay!" answered all the sailors.
"Come on, then," said Bolton; "let's go and find the commander; I'll
undertake the talking."
The sailors in a tight group swayed away towards the poop. The
_Forward_ at the time was penetrating into a vast circus, which
measured perhaps 800 feet in diameter, and with the exception of one
entrance--that by which the vessel had come--was entirely closed up.
Shandon said that he had just imprisoned himself; but what was he
to do? How were they to retrace their steps? He felt his responsibility,
and his hand grasped the telescope. The doctor, with folded arms,
kept silent; he was contemplating the walls of ice, the medium
altitude of which was over 300 feet. A foggy dome remained suspended
above the gulf. It was at this instant that Bolton addressed his speech
to the commander.
"Commander!" said he in a trembling voice, "we can't go any further."
"What do you say?" replied Shandon, whose consciousness of
disregarded authority made the blood rise to the roots of his hair.
"Commander," replied Bolton, "we say that we've done enough for that
invisible captain, and we are decided to go no further ahead."
"You are decided?" cried Shandon. "You talk thus, Bolton? Take care!"
"Your threats are all the same to us," brutally replied Pen; "we won't
go an inch further."
Shandon advanced towards the mutineers; at the same time the mate
came up and said in a whisper: "Commander, if you wish to get out
of here we haven't a minute to lose; there's an iceberg drifting up
the pass, and it is very likely to cork up all issue and keep us
prisoners."
Shandon examined the situation.
"You will give an account of your conduct later on, you fellows,"
said he. "Now heave aboard!"
The sailors rushed to their posts, and the _Forward_ quickly veered
round; the fires were stuffed with coals; the great question was to
outrun the floating mountain. It was a struggle between the brig and
the iceberg. The former, in order to get through, was running south;
the latter was drifting north, ready to close up every passage.
"Steam up! steam up!" cried Shandon. "Do you hear, Brunton?"
The _Forward_ glided like a bird amidst the struggling icebergs, which
her prow sent to the right-about; the brig's hull shivered under the
action of the screw, and the manometer indicated a prodigious tension
of steam, for it whistled with a deafening noise.
"Load the valves!" cried Shandon, and the engineer obeyed at the risk
of blowing up the ship; but his despairing efforts were in vain. The
iceberg, caught up by an undercurrent, rapidly approached the pass.
The brig was still about three cables' length from it, when the
mountain, entering like a corner-stone into the open space, strongly
adhered to its neighbours and closed up all issue.
"We are lost!" cried Shandon, who could not retain the imprudent
words.
"Lost!" repeated the crew.
"Let them escape who can!" said some.
"Lower the shore boats!" said others.
"To the steward's room!" cried Pen and several of his band, "and if
we are to be drowned, let's drown ourselves in gin!"
Disorder among the men was at its height. Shandon felt himself
overcome; when he wished to command, he stammered and hesitated. His
thought was unable to make way through his words. The doctor was
walking about in agitation. Johnson stoically folded his arms and
said nothing. All at once a strong, imperious, and energetic voice
was heard to pronounce these words:
"Every man to his post and tack about!"
Johnson started, and, hardly knowing what he did, turned the wheel
rapidly. He was just in time, for the brig, launched at full speed,
was about to crush herself against her prison walls. But while Johnson
was instinctively obeying, Shandon, Clawbonny, the crew, and all down
to the stoker Warren, who had abandoned his fires, even black Strong,
who had left his cooking, were all mustered on deck, and saw emerge
from that cabin the only man who was in possession of the key, and
that man was Garry, the sailor.
"Sir!" cried Shandon, becoming pale. "Garry--you--by what right do
you command here?"
"Dick," called out Garry, reproducing that whistle which had so much
surprised the crew. The dog, at the sound of his right name, jumped
with one bound on to the poop and lay quietly down at his master's
feet. The crew did not say a word. The key which the captain of the
_Forward_ alone possessed, the dog sent by him, and who came thus
to verify his identity, that commanding accent which it was impossible
to mistake--all this acted strongly on the minds of the sailors, and
was sufficient to establish Garry's authority.
Besides, Garry was no longer recognisable; he had cut off the long
whiskers which had covered his face, which made it look more energetic
and imperious than ever; dressed in the clothes of his rank which
had been deposited in the cabin, he appeared in the insignia of
commander.
Then immediately, with that mobility which characterised them, the
crew of the _Forward_ cried out--"Three cheers for the captain!"
"Shandon!" said the latter to his second, "muster the crew; I am going
to inspect it!"
Shandon obeyed and gave orders with an altered voice. The captain
advanced to meet his officers and men, saying something suitable to
each, and treating each according to his past conduct. When he had
finished the inspection, he returned on to the poop, and with a calm
voice pronounced the following words:
"Officers and sailors, like you, I am English, and my motto is that
of Nelson, 'England expects that every man will do his duty.' As an
Englishman I am resolved, we are resolved, that no bolder men shall
go further than we have been. As an Englishman I will not allow, we
will not allow, other people to have the glory of pushing further
north themselves. If ever human foot can step upon the land of the
North Pole, it shall be the foot of an Englishman. Here is our
country's flag. I have equipped this vessel, and consecrated my
fortune to this enterprise, and, if necessary, I shall consecrate
to it my life and yours; for I am determined that these colours shall
float on the North Pole. Take courage. From this day, for every degree
we can gain northwards the sum of a thousand pounds will be awarded
to you. There are ninety, for we are now in the seventy-second. Count
them. Besides, my name is enough. It means energy and patriotism.
I am Captain Hatteras!"
"Captain Hatteras!" exclaimed Shandon, and that name, well known to
English sailors, was whispered amongst the crew.
"Now," continued Hatteras, "anchor the brig to the ice, put out the
fires, and each of you return to your usual work. Shandon, I wish
to hold a council with you relative to affairs on board. Join me with
the doctor, Wall, and the boatswain in my cabin. Johnson, disperse
the men."
Hatteras, calm and haughty, quietly left the poop. In the meantime
Shandon was anchoring the brig.
Who, then, was this Hatteras, and for what reason did his name make
such a profound impression upon the crew? John Hatteras was the only
son of a London brewer, who died in 1852 worth six millions of money.
Still young, he embraced the maritime career in spite of the splendid
fortune awaiting him. Not that he felt any vocation for commerce,
but the instinct of geographical discoveries was dear to him. He had
always dreamt of placing his foot where no mortal foot had yet soiled
the ground.
At the age of twenty he was already in possession of the vigorous
constitution of a thin and sanguine man; an energetic face, with lines
geometrically traced; a high and perpendicular forehead; cold but
handsome eyes; thin lips, which set off a mouth from which words rarely
issued; a middle stature; solidly-jointed limbs, put in motion by
iron muscles; the whole forming a man endowed with a temperament fit
for anything. When you saw him you felt he was daring; when you heard
him you knew he was coldly determined; his was a character that never
drew back, ready to stake the lives of others as well as his own.
It was well to think twice before following him in his expeditions.
John Hatteras was proud of being an Englishman. A Frenchman once said
to him, with what he thought was refined politeness and amiability:
"If I were not a Frenchman I should like to be an Englishman."
"And if I were not an Englishman," answered Hatteras, "I should like
to be an Englishman."
That answer revealed the character of the man. It was a great grief
to him that Englishmen had not the monopoly of geographical
discoveries, and were, in fact, rather behind other nations in that
field.
Christopher Columbus, the discoverer of America, was a Genoese; Vasco
da Gama, a Portuguese, discovered India; another Portuguese,
Fernando de Andrada, China; and a third, Magellan, the Terra del Fuego.
Canada was discovered by Jacques Cartier, a Frenchman; Labrador,
Brazil, the Cape of Good Hope, the Azores, Madeira, Newfoundland,
Guinea, Congo, Mexico, Cape Blanco, Greenland, Iceland, the South
Seas, California, Japan, Cambodia, Peru, Kamtchatka, the Philippines,
Spitzbergen, Cape Horn, Behring's Straits, Tasmania, New Zealand,
New Brittany, New Holland, Louisiana, Jean Mayen Island, were
discovered by Icelanders, Scandinavians, French, Russians,
Portuguese, Danes, Spaniards, Genoese, and Dutch, but not one by an
Englishman. Captain Hatteras could not reconcile himself to the fact
that Englishmen were excluded from the glorious list of navigators
who made the great discoveries of the 15th and 16th centuries.
Hatteras consoled himself a little when he turned to more modern times.
Then Englishmen had the best of it with Sturt, Burke, Wills, King,
and Grey in Australia; with Palliser in America; with Cyril Graham,
Wadington, and Cummingham in India; with Burton, Speke, Grant, and
Livingstone in Africa.
But for a man like Hatteras this was not enough; from his point of
view these bold travellers were _improvers_ rather than _inventors_;
and he was determined to do something better, and he would have
invented a country if he could, only to have the honour of discovering
it. Now he had noticed that, although Englishmen did not form a
majority amongst ancient discoverers, and that he had to go back to
Cook in 1774 to obtain New Caledonia and the Sandwich Isles, where
the unfortunate captain perished in 1778, yet there existed,
nevertheless, a corner of the globe where they seemed to have united
all their efforts. This corner was precisely the boreal lands and
seas of North America. The list of Polar discoveries may be thus
written:
Nova Zembla, discovered by Willoughby, in 1553; Weigatz Island, by
Barrough, in 1556; the West Coast of Greenland, by Davis, in 1585;
Davis's Straits, by Davis, in 1587; Spitzbergen, by Willoughby, in
1596; Hudson's Bay, by Hudson, in 1610; Baffin's Bay, by Baffin, in
1616.
In more modern times, Hearne, Mackenzie, John Ross, Parry, Franklin,
Richardson, Beechey, James Ross, Back, Dease, Simpson, Rae,
Inglefield, Belcher, Austin, Kellett, Moore, McClure, Kennedy, and
McClintock have continually searched those unknown lands.
The limits of the northern coasts of America had been fixed, and the
North-West passage almost discovered, but this was not enough; there
was something better still to be done, and John Hatteras had twice
attempted it by equipping two ships at his own expense. He wanted
to reach the North Pole, and thus crown the series of English
discoveries by one of the most illustrious attempts. To attain the
Pole was the aim of his life.
After a few successful cruises in the Southern seas, Hatteras
endeavoured for the first time, in 1846, to go north by Baffin's Sea;
but he could not get beyond the seventy-fourth degree of latitude;
he was then commanding the sloop _Halifax_. His crew suffered
atrocious torments, and John Hatteras pushed his adventurous
rashness so far, that, afterwards, sailors were little tempted to
re-commence similar expeditions under such a chief.
However, in 1850 Hatteras succeeded in enrolling on the schooner
_Farewell_ about twenty determined men, tempted principally by the
high prize offered for their audacity. It was upon that occasion that
Dr. Clawbonny entered into correspondence with John Hatteras, whom
he did not know, requesting to join the expedition, but happily for
the doctor the post was already filled up. The _Farewell_, following
the track taken in 1817 by the _Neptune_ from Aberdeen, got up to
the north of Spitzbergen as far as the seventy-sixth degree of
latitude. There the expedition was compelled to winter. But the
sufferings of the crew from the intense cold were so great that not
a single man saw England again, with the exception of Hatteras himself,
who was brought back to his own country by a Danish whaler after a
walk of more than two hundred miles across the ice.
The sensation produced by the return of this one man was immense.
Who in future would dare to follow Hatteras in his mad attempts?
However, he did not despair of beginning again. His father, the brewer,
died, and he became possessor of a nabob's fortune. Soon after a
geographical fact bitterly stirred up John Hatteras. A brig, the
_Advance_, manned by seventeen men, equipped by a merchant named
Grinnell, under the command of Dr. Kane, and sent in search of Sir
John Franklin, advanced in 1853 through Baffin's Sea and Smith's
Strait, beyond the eighty-second degree of boreal latitude, much
nearer the Pole than any of his predecessors. Now, this vessel was
American, Grinnell was American, and Kane was American. The
Englishman's disdain for the Yankee will be easily understood; in
the heart of Hatteras it changed to hatred; he was resolved to outdo
his audacious competitor and reach the Pole itself.
For two years he had been living incognito in Liverpool, passing
himself off as a sailor; he recognised in Richard Shandon the man
he wanted; he sent him an offer by an anonymous letter, and one to
Dr. Clawbonny at the same time. The _Forward_ was built, armed, and
equipped. Hatteras took great care to conceal his name, for had it
been known he would not have found a single man to accompany him.
He was determined not to take the command of the brig except in a
moment of danger, and when his crew had gone too far to draw back.
He had in reserve, as we have seen, such offers of money to make to
the men that not one of them would refuse to follow him to the other
end of the world; and, in fact, it was right to the other end of the
world that he meant to go. Circumstances had become critical, and
John Hatteras had made himself known. His dog, the faithful Dick,
the companion of his voyages, was the first to recognise him. Luckily
for the brave and unfortunately for the timid, it was well and duly
established that John Hatteras was the captain of the _Forward_.
CHAPTER XIII
THE PROJECTS OF HATTERAS
The appearance of this bold personage was appreciated in different
ways by the crew; part of them completely rallied round him, either
from love of money or daring; others submitted because they could
not help themselves, reserving their right to protest later on;
besides, resistance to such a man seemed, for the present, difficult.
Each man went back to his post. The 20th of May fell on a Sunday,
and was consequently a day of rest for the crew. A council was held
by the captain, composed of the officers, Shandon, Wall, Johnson,
and the doctor.
"Gentlemen," said the captain in that voice at the same time soft
and imperious which characterised him, "you are aware that I intend
to go as far as the Pole. I wish to know your opinion about this
enterprise. Shandon, what do you think about it?"
"It is not for me to think, captain," coldly replied Shandon; "I have
only to obey."
Hatteras was not surprised at the answer.
"Richard Shandon," continued he, not less coldly, "I beg you will
say what you think about our chance of success."
"Very well, captain," answered Shandon, "facts are there, and answer
for me; attempts of the same kind up till now have always failed;
I hope we shall be more fortunate."
"We shall be. What do you think, gentlemen?"
"As far as I am concerned," replied the doctor, "I consider your plan
practicable, as it is certain that some day navigators will attain
the boreal Pole. I don't see why the honour should not fall to our
lot."
"There are many things in our favour," answered Hatteras; "our
measures are taken in consequence, and we shall profit by the
experience of those who have gone before us. And thereupon, Shandon,
accept my thanks for the care you have taken in fitting out this ship;
there are a few evil-disposed fellows amongst the crew that I shall
have to bring to reason, but on the whole I have only praises to give
you."
Shandon bowed coldly. His position on the _Forward_, which he thought
to command, was a false one. Hatteras understood this, and did not
insist further.
"As to you, gentlemen," he continued, turning to Wall and Johnson,
"I could not have secured officers more distinguished for courage
and experience."
"Well, captain, I'm your man," answered Johnson, "and although your
enterprise seems to me rather daring, you may rely upon me till the
end."
"And on me too," said James Wall.
"As to you, doctor, I know what you are worth."
"You know more than I do, then," quickly replied the doctor.
"Now, gentlemen," continued Hatteras, "it is well you should learn
upon what undeniable facts my pretension to arrive at the Pole is
founded. In 1817 the _Neptune_ got up to the north of Spitzbergen,
as far as the eighty-second degree. In 1826 the celebrated Parry,
after his third voyage to the Polar Seas, started also from
Spitzbergen Point, and by the aid of sledge-boats went a hundred and
fifty miles northward. In 1852 Captain Inglefield penetrated into
Smith's Inlet as far as seventy-eight degrees thirty-five minutes
latitude. All these vessels were English, and Englishmen, our
countrymen, commanded them." Here Hatteras paused. "I ought to add,"
he continued, with a constrained look, and as though the words were
unable to leave his lips--"I must add that, in 1854, Kane, the American,
commanding the brig _Advance_, went still higher, and that his
lieutenant, Morton, going across the ice-fields, hoisted the United
States standard on the other side of the eighty-second degree. This
said, I shall not return to the subject. Now what remains to be known
is this, that the captains of the _Neptune_, the _Enterprise_, the
_Isabel_, and the _Advance_ ascertained that proceeding from the
highest latitudes there existed a Polar basin entirely free from ice."
"Free from ice!" exclaimed Shandon, interrupting the captain, "that
is impossible!"
"You will notice, Shandon," quietly replied Hatteras, whose eye shone
for an instant, "that I quote names and facts as a proof. I may even
add that during Captain Parry's station on the border of Wellington
Channel, in 1851, his lieutenant, Stewart, also found himself in the
presence of open sea, and this peculiarity was confirmed during Sir
Edward Beecher's wintering in 1853, in Northumberland Bay, in 76
degrees 52 minutes N. latitude, and 99 degrees 20 minutes longitude.
The reports are incontestable, and it would be most unjust not to
admit them."
"However, captain," continued Shandon, "those reports are so
contradictory."
"You are mistaken, Shandon," cried Dr. Clawbonny. "These reports do
not contradict any scientific assertion, the captain will allow me
to tell you."
"Go on, doctor," answered Hatteras.
"Well, listen, Shandon; it evidently follows from geographical facts,
and from the study of isotherm lines, that the coldest point of the
globe is not at the Pole itself; like the magnetic point, it deviates
several degrees from the Pole. The calculations of Brewster, Bergham,
and several other natural philosophers show us that in our hemisphere
there are two cold Poles; one is situated in Asia at 79 degrees 30
minutes N. latitude, and by 120 degrees E. longitude, and the other
in America at 78 degrees N. latitude, and 97 degrees W. longitude.
It is with the latter that we have to do, and you see, Shandon, we
have met with it at more than twelve degrees below the Pole. Well,
why should not the Polar Sea be as equally disengaged from ice as
the sixty-sixth parallel is in summer--that is to say, the south of
Baffin's Bay?"
"That's what I call well pleaded," replied Johnson. "Mr. Clawbonny
speaks upon these matters like a professional man."
"It appears very probable," chimed in James Wall.
"All guess-work," answered Shandon obstinately.
"Well, Shandon," said Hatteras, "let us take into consideration
either case; either the sea is free from ice or it is not so, and
neither of these suppositions can hinder us from attaining the Pole.
If the sea is free the _Forward_ will take us there without trouble;
if it is frozen we will attempt the adventure upon our sledges. This,
you will allow, is not impracticable. When once our brig has attained
the eighty-third degree we shall only have six hundred miles to
traverse before reaching the Pole."
"And what are six hundred miles?" quickly answered the doctor, "when
it is known that a Cossack, Alexis Markoff, went over the ice sea
along the northern coast of the Russian Empire, in sledges drawn by
dogs, for the space of eight hundred miles in twenty-four days?"
"Do you hear that, Shandon?" said Hatteras; "can't Englishmen do as
much as a Cossack?"
"Of course they can," cried the impetuous doctor.
"Of course," added the boatswain.
"Well, Shandon?" said the captain.
"I can only repeat what I said before, captain," said Shandon--"I
will obey."
"Very good. And now," continued Hatteras, "let us consider our present
situation. We are caught by the ice, and it seems to me impossible,
for this year at least, to get into Smith's Strait. Well, here, then,
this is what I propose."
Hatteras laid open upon the table one of the excellent maps published
in 1859 by the order of the Admiralty.
"Be kind enough to follow me. If Smith's Strait is closed up from
us, Lancaster Strait, on the west coast of Baffin's Sea, is not. I
think we ought to ascend that strait as far as Barrow Strait, and
from there sail to Beechey Island; the same track has been gone over
a hundred times by sailing vessels; consequently with a screw we can
do it easily. Once at Beechey Island we will go north as far as possible,
by Wellington Channel, up to the outlet of the creek which joins
Wellington's and Queen's Channels, at the very point where the open
sea was perceived. It is now only the 20th of May; in a month, if
circumstances favour us, we shall have attained that point, and from
there we'll drive forward towards the Pole. What do you think about
it, gentlemen?"
"It is evidently the only track to follow," replied Johnson.
"Very well, we will take it from to-morrow. I shall let them rest
to-day as it is Sunday. Shandon, you will take care that religious
service be attended to; it has a beneficial effect on the minds of
men, and a sailor above all needs to place confidence in the Almighty."
"It shall be attended to, captain," answered Shandon, who went out
with the lieutenant and the boatswain.
"Doctor!" said Hatteras, pointing towards Shandon, "there's a man
whose pride is wounded; I can no longer rely upon him."
Early the following day the captain caused the pirogue to be lowered
in order to reconnoitre the icebergs in the vicinity, the breadth
of which did not exceed 200 yards. He remarked that through a slow
pressure of the ice the basin threatened to become narrower. It became
urgent, therefore, to make an aperture to prevent the ship being
crushed in a vice of the mountains. By the means employed by John
Hatteras, it is easy to observe that he was an energetic man.
He first had steps cut out in the walls of ice, and by their means
climbed to the summit of an iceberg. From that point he saw that it
was easy for him to cut out a road towards the south-west. By his
orders a blasting furnace was hollowed nearly in the heart of the
mountain. This work, rapidly put into execution, was terminated by
noon on Monday. Hatteras could not rely on his eight or ten pound
blasting cylinders, which would have had no effect on such masses
as those. They were only sufficient to shatter ice-fields. He
therefore had a thousand pounds of powder placed in the blasting
furnace, of which the diffusive direction was carefully calculated.
This mine was provided with a long wick, bound in gutta-percha, the
end of which was outside. The gallery conducting to the mine was filled
up with snow and lumps of ice, which the cold of the following night
made as hard as granite. The temperature, under the influence of an
easterly wind, came down to twelve degrees.
At seven the next morning the _Forward_ was held under steam, ready
to profit by the smallest issue. Johnson was charged with setting
fire to the wick, which, according to calculation, would burn for
half an hour before setting fire to the mine. Johnson had, therefore,
plenty of time to regain the brig; ten minutes after having executed
Hatteras's order he was again at his post. The crew remained on deck,
for the weather was dry and bright; it had left off snowing.
Hatteras was on the poop, chronometer in hand, counting the minutes;
Shandon and the doctor were with him. At eight thirty-five a dull
explosion was heard, much less loud than any one would have supposed.
The outline of the mountains was changed all at once as if by an
earthquake; thick white smoke rose up to a considerable height in
the sky, leaving long crevices in the iceberg, the top part of which
fell in pieces all round the _Forward_. But the path was not yet free;
large blocks of ice remained suspended above the pass on the adjacent
mountains, and there was every reason to fear that they would fall
and close up the passage. Hatteras took in the situation at one glance.
"Wolsten!" cried he.
The gunsmith hastened up.
"Yes, captain?" cried he.
"Load the gun in the bow with a triple charge," said Hatteras, "and
wad it as hard as possible."
"Are we going to attack the mountain with cannon-balls?" asked the
doctor.
"No," answered Hatteras, "that would be useless. No bullet, Wolsten,
but a triple charge of powder. Look sharp!"
A few minutes after the gun was loaded.
"What does he mean to do without a bullet?" muttered Shandon between
his teeth.
"We shall soon see," answered the doctor.
"Ready, captain!" called out Wolsten.
"All right!" replied Hatteras.
"Brunton!" he called out to the engineer, "a few turns ahead."
Brunton opened the sliders, and the screw being put in movement, the
_Forward_ neared the mined mountain.
"Aim at the pass!" cried the captain to the gunsmith. The latter obeyed,
and when the brig was only half a cable's length from it, Hatteras
called out:
"Fire!"
A formidable report followed his order, and the blocks, shaken by
the atmospheric commotion, were suddenly precipitated into the sea;
the disturbance amongst the strata of the air had been sufficient
to accomplish this.
"All steam on, Brunton! Straight for the pass, Johnson!"
The latter was at the helm; the brig, driven along by her screw, which
turned in the foaming waves, dashed into the middle of the then opened
pass; it was time, for scarcely had the _Forward_ cleared the opening
than her prison closed up again behind her. It was a thrilling moment,
and on board there was only one stout and undisturbed heart--that
of the captain. The crew, astonished at the manoeuvre, cried out:
"Hurrah for the captain!"
CHAPTER XIV
EXPEDITION IN SEARCH OF FRANKLIN
On Wednesday, the 23rd of May, the _Forward_ had again taken up her
adventurous navigation, cleverly tacking amongst the packs and
icebergs. Thanks to steam, that obedient force which so many of our
Polar sea navigators have had to do without, she appeared to be playing
in the midst of the moving rocks. She seemed to recognise the hand
of an experienced master, and like a horse under an able rider, she
obeyed the thought of her captain. The temperature rose. At six
o'clock in the morning the thermometer marked twenty-six degrees,
at six in the evening twenty-nine degrees, and at midnight twenty-five
degrees; the wind was lightly blowing from the south-east.
On Thursday, towards three in the morning, the _Forward_ was in sight
of Possession Bay, on the coast of America. At the entrance to
Lancaster Strait, shortly after, the crew caught a glimpse of Burney
Cape. A few Esquimaux pulled off towards the vessel, but Hatteras
did not take the trouble to wait for them. The Byam-Martin peaks,
which overlook Cape Liverpool, were sighted to the left, and soon
disappeared in the evening mists, which also prevented any
observation being taken from Cape Hay. This cape is so low that it
gets confounded with the ice on the coast, a circumstance which often
renders the hydrographic determination of the Polar seas extremely
difficult.
Puffins, ducks, and white sea-gulls showed up in very great numbers.
The _Forward_ was then in latitude 74 degrees 1 minute, and in
longitude 77 degrees 15 minutes. The snowy hoods of the two mountains,
Catherine and Elizabeth, rose up above the clouds.
On Friday, at six o'clock, Cape Warender was passed on the right side
of the strait, and on the left Admiralty Inlet, a bay that has been
little explored by navigators, who are generally in a hurry to sail
away west. The sea became rather rough, and the waves often swept
the deck of the brig, throwing up pieces of ice. The land on the north
coast, with its high table lands almost level, and which reverberated
the sun's rays, offered a very curious appearance.
Hatteras wanted to run along the north coast, in order to reach Beechey
Island and the entrance to Wellington Channel sooner; but continual
icebergs compelled him, to his great annoyance, to follow the southern
passes. That was why, on the 26th of May, the _Forward_ was abreast
of Cape York in a thick fog interspersed with snow; a very high
mountain, almost perpendicular, caused it to be recognised. The
weather cleared up a little, and the sun, towards noon, appeared for
an instant, allowing a tolerably good observation to be taken; 74
degrees 4 minutes latitude and 84 degrees 23 minutes longitude. The
_Forward_ was then at the extremity of Lancaster Strait.
Hatteras pointed out to the doctor on his map the route already taken,
and the one he meant to follow. The position of the brig at the time
was very interesting.
"I should like to have been further north," said he, "but no one can
do the impossible; see, this is our exact situation."
And the captain pricked his map at a short distance from Cape York.
"We are in the centre of this four-road way, open to every wind, fenced
by the outlets of Lancaster Strait, Barrow Strait, Wellington Channel,
and Regent's Passage; it is a point that all navigators in these seas
have been obliged to come to."
"Well," replied the doctor, "it must have puzzled them greatly; four
cross-roads with no sign-posts to tell them which to take. How did
Parry, Ross, and Franklin manage?"
"They did not manage at all, they were managed; they had no choice,
I can assure you; sometimes Barrow Strait was closed to one of them,
and the next year another found it open; sometimes the vessel was
irresistibly drawn towards Regent's Passage, so that we have ended
by becoming acquainted with these inextricable seas."
"What a singular country!" said the doctor, examining the map. "It
is all in pieces, and they seem to have no logical connection. It
seems as if the land in the vicinity of the North Pole had been cut
up like this on purpose to make access to it more difficult, whilst
that in the other hemisphere quietly terminates in tapered-out points
like those of Cape Horn, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Indian
Peninsula. Is it the greater rapidity of the equator which has thus
modified matters, whilst the land at the extremities, yet fluid from
the creation, has not been able to get condensed or agglomerated
together, for want of a sufficiently rapid rotation?"
"That must be the case, for everything on earth is logical, and
'nothing is that errs from law,' and God often allows men to discover
His laws; make use of His permission, doctor."
"Unfortunately, I shall not be able to take much advantage of it,"
said the doctor, "but the wind here is something dreadful," added
he, muffling himself up as well as he could.
"Yes, we are quite exposed to the north wind, and it is turning us
out of our road."
"Anyhow it ought to drive the ice down south, and level a clear road."
"It ought to do so, doctor, but the wind does not always do what it
ought. Look, that ice-bank seems impenetrable. Never mind, we will
try to reach Griffith Island, sail round Cornwallis Island, and get
into Queen's Channel without going by Wellington Channel.
Nevertheless I positively desire to touch at Beechey Island in order
to renew my coal provision."
"What do you mean?" asked the astonished doctor.
"I mean that, according to orders from the Admiralty, large provisions
have been deposited on that island in order to provide for future
expeditions, and although Captain McClintock took some in 1859, I
assure you that there will be some left for us."
"By-the-bye," said the doctor, "these parts have been explored for
the last fifteen years, and since the day when the proof of the loss
of Franklin was acquired, the Admiralty has always kept five or six
cruisers in these seas. If I am not mistaken, Griffith Island, which
I see there on the map, almost in the middle of the cross-roads, has
become a general meeting-place for navigators."
"It is so, doctor; and Franklin's unfortunate expedition resulted
in making known these distant countries to us."
"That is true, captain, for since 1845 expeditions have been very
numerous. It was not until 1848 that we began to be uneasy about the
disappearance of the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_, Franklin's two
vessels. It was then that we saw the admiral's old friend, Dr.
Richardson, at the age of seventy, go to Canada, and ascend Coppermine
River as far as the Polar Sea; and James Ross, commanding the
_Enterprise_ and _Investigation_, set out from Uppernawik in 1848
and arrived at Cape York, where we now are. Every day he threw a tub
containing papers into the sea, for the purpose of making known his
whereabouts. During the mists he caused the cannon to be fired, and
had sky-rockets sent up at night along with Bengal lights, and kept
under sail continually. He wintered in Port Leopold from 1848 to 1849,
where he took possession of a great number of white foxes, and caused
brass collars, upon which was engraved the indication of the
whereabouts of ships and the store depots, to be riveted on their
necks. Afterwards they were dispersed in all directions; in the
following spring he began to search the coasts of North Somerset on
sledges in the midst of dangers and privations from which almost all
his men fell ill or lame. He built up cairns in which he inclosed
brass cylinders with the necessary memoranda for rallying the lost
expedition. While he was away his lieutenant McClure explored the
northern coasts of Barrow Strait, but without result. James Ross had
under his orders two officers who, later on, were destined to become
celebrities--McClure, who cleared the North-West passage, and
McClintock, who discovered the remains of Sir John Franklin."
"Yes; they are now two good and brave English captains. You know the
history of these seas well, doctor, and you will benefit us by telling
us about it. There is always something to be gained by hearing about
such daring attempts."
"Well, to finish all I know about James Ross: he tried to reach
Melville Island by a more westerly direction, but he nearly lost his
two vessels, for he was caught by the ice and driven back into Baffin's
Sea."
"Driven back?" repeated Hatteras, contracting his brows; "forced
back in spite of himself?"
"Yes, and without having discovered anything," continued the doctor;
"and ever since that year, 1850, English vessels have never ceased
to plough these seas, and a reward of twenty thousand pounds was
offered to any one who might find the crews of the _Erebus_ and
_Terror_. Captains Kellett and Moore had already, in 1848, attempted
to get through Behring's Strait. In 1850 and 1851 Captain Austin
wintered in Cornwallis Island; Captain Parry, on board the
_Assistance_ and the _Resolute_, explored Wellington Channel; John
Ross, the venerable hero of the magnetic pole, set out again with
his yacht, the _Felix_, in search of his friend; the brig _Prince
Albert_ went on a first cruise at the expense of Lady Franklin; and,
lastly, two American ships, sent out by Grinnell with Captain Haven,
were drifted out of Wellington Channel and thrown back into Lancaster
Strait. It was during this year that McClintock, who was then Austin's
lieutenant, pushed on as far as Melville Island and Cape Dundas, the
extreme points attained by Parry in 1819; it was then that he found
traces of Franklin's wintering on Beechey Island in 1845."
"Yes," answered Hatteras, "three of his sailors had been buried
there--three men more fortunate than the others!"
The doctor nodded in approval of Hatteras's remark, and continued:
"During 1851 and 1852 the _Prince Albert_ went on a second voyage
under the French lieutenant, Bellot; he wintered at Batty Bay, in
Prince Regent Strait, explored the south-west of Somerset, and
reconnoitred the coast as far as Cape Walker. During that time the
_Enterprise_ and the _Investigator_ returned to England and passed
under the command of Collinson and McClure for the purpose of
rejoining Kellett and Moore in Behring's Straits; whilst Collinson
came back to winter at Hong-Kong, McClure made the best of his way
onward, and after being obliged to winter three times--from 1850 to
'51; from 1851 to '52; and from 1852 to '53--he discovered the
North-West passage without learning anything of Franklin's fate.
During 1852 and '53 a new expedition composed of three sailing vessels,
the _Resolute_, the _Assistance_, the _North Star_, and two steamers,
the _Pioneer_ and _Intrepid_, set sail under the command of Sir Edward
Belcher, with Captain Kellett under him; Sir Edward visited
Wellington Channel, wintered in Northumberland Bay, and went over
the coast, whilst Kellett, pushing on to Bridport in Melville Island,
explored, without success, that part of the boreal land. It was at
this time that news was spread in England that two ships, abandoned
in the midst of icebergs, had been descried near the coast of New
Scotland. Lady Franklin immediately had prepared the little screw
_Isabelle_, and Captain Inglefield, after having steamed up Baffin's
Bay as far as Victoria Point on the eightieth parallel, came back
to Beechey Island no more successful than his predecessors. At the
beginning of 1855, Grinnell, an American, fitted up a fresh expedition,
and Captain Kane tried to penetrate to the Pole----"
"But he didn't do it," cried Hatteras violently; "and what he didn't
do we will, with God's help!"
"I know, captain," answered the doctor, "and I mention it because
this expedition is of necessity connected with the search for Franklin.
But it had no result. I was almost forgetting to tell you that the
Admiralty, considering Beechey Island as the general rendezvous of
expeditions, charged Captain Inglefield, who then commanded the
steamer _Phoenix_, to transport provisions there in 1853; Inglefield
set out with Lieutenant Bellot, and lost the brave officer who for
the second time had devoted his services to England; we can have more
precise details upon this catastrophe, as our boatswain, Johnson,
was witness to the misfortune."
"Lieutenant Bellot was a brave Frenchman," said Hatteras, "and his
memory is honoured in England."
"By that time," continued the doctor, "Belcher's fleet began to come
back little by little; not all of it, for Sir Edward had been obliged
to abandon the _Assistance_ in 1854, as McClure had done with the
_Investigator_ in 1853. In the meantime, Dr. Rae, in a letter dated
the 29th of July, 1854, and addressed from Repulse Bay, which he had
succeeded in reaching through America, sent word that the Esquimaux
of King William's Land were in possession of different objects taken
from the wrecks of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_; there was then not the
least doubt about the fate of the expedition; the _Phoenix_, the
_North Star_, and Collinson's vessel then came back to England,
leaving the Arctic Seas completely abandoned by English ships. But
if the Government seemed to have lost all hope it was not so with
Lady Franklin, and with the remnants of her fortune she fitted out
the _Fox_, commanded by McClintock, who set sail in 1857, and wintered
in the quarters where you made your apparition; he reached Beechey
Island on the 11th of August, 1858, wintered a second time in Bellot's
Strait, began his search again in February, 1859, and on the 6th of
May found the document which cleared away all doubt about the fate
of the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_, and returned to England at the end
of the year. That is all that has happened for fifteen years in these
fateful countries, and since the return of the _Fox_ not a single
vessel has returned to attempt success in the midst of these dangerous
seas."
"Well," replied Hatteras, "we will attempt it."
CHAPTER XV
THE "FORWARD" DRIVEN BACK SOUTH
The weather cleared up towards evening, and land was clearly
distinguished between Cape Sepping and Cape Clarence, which runs east,
then south, and is joined to the coast on the west by a rather low
neck of land. The sea at the entrance to Regent Strait was free from
ice, with the exception of an impenetrable ice-bank, a little further
than Port Leopold, which threatened to stop the _Forward_ in her
north-westerly course. Hatteras was greatly vexed, but he did not
show it; he was obliged to have recourse to petards in order to force
an entrance to Port Leopold; he reached it on Sunday, the 27th of
May; the brig was solidly anchored to the enormous icebergs, which
were as upright, hard, and solid as rocks.
The captain, followed by the doctor, Johnson, and his dog Dick,
immediately leaped upon the ice, and soon reached land. Dick leaped
with joy, for since he had recognised the captain he had become more
sociable, keeping his grudge against certain men of the crew for whom
his master had no more friendship than he. The port was not then
blocked up with ice that the east winds generally heaped up there;
the earth, intersected with peaks, offered at their summits graceful
undulations of snow. The house and lantern erected by James Ross were
still in a tolerable state of preservation; but the provisions seemed
to have been ransacked by foxes and bears, the recent traces of which
were easily distinguished. Men, too, had had something to do with
the devastation, for a few remains of Esquimaux huts remained upon
the shores of the Bay. The six graves inclosing the remains of the
six sailors of the _Enterprise_ and the _Investigator_ were
recognisable by a slight swelling of the ground; they had been
respected both by men and animals. In placing his foot for the first
time on boreal land, the doctor experienced much emotion. It is
impossible to imagine the feelings with which the heart is assailed
at the sight of the remains of houses, tents, huts, and magazines
that Nature so marvellously preserves in those cold countries.
"There is that residence," he said to his companions, "which James
Ross himself called the Camp of Refuge; if Franklin's expedition had
reached this spot, it would have been saved. There is the engine which
was abandoned here, and the stove at which the crew of the _Prince
Albert_ warmed themselves in 1851. Things have remained just as they
were, and any one would think that Captain Kennedy had only left
yesterday. Here is the long boat which sheltered him and his for a
few days, for this Kennedy, separated from his ship, was in reality
saved by Lieutenant Bellot, who braved the October temperature in
order to go to his assistance."
"I knew that brave and worthy officer," said Johnson.
Whilst the doctor was examining with all an antiquarian's enthusiasm
the vestiges of previous winterings, Hatteras was occupied in piling
together the various provisions and articles of fuel, which were only
to be found in very small quantities. The following day was employed
in transporting them on board. The doctor, without going too far from
the ship, surveyed the country, and took sketches of the most
remarkable points of view. The temperature rose by degrees, and the
heaped-up snow began to melt. The doctor made an almost complete
collection of northern birds, such as gulls, divers, eider-down ducks,
which are very much like common ducks, with white breasts and backs,
blue bellies, the top of the head blue, and the remainder of the
plumage white, shaded with green; several of them had already their
breasts stripped of that beautiful down with which the male and female
line their nests. The doctor also perceived large seals taking breath
on the surface of the ice, but could not shoot one. In his excursions
he discovered the high water mark, a stone upon which the following
signs are engraved:
(E. I.)
1849,
and which indicate the passage of the _Enterprise_ and
_Investigator_; he pushed forward as far as Cape Clarence to the spot
where John and James Ross, in 1833, waited with so much impatience
for the breaking up of the ice. The land was strewn with skulls and
bones of animals, and traces of Esquimaux habitations could be still
distinguished.
The doctor wanted to raise up a cairn on Port Leopold, and deposit
in it a note indicating the passage of the _Forward_, and the aim
of the expedition. But Hatteras would not hear of it; he did not want
to leave traces behind of which a competitor might take advantage.
In spite of his good motives the doctor was forced to yield to the
captain's will. Shandon blamed the captain's obstinacy, which
prevented any ships following the trace of the _Forward_ in case of
accident. Hatteras would not give way. His lading was finished on
Monday night, and he attempted once more to gain the north by breaking
open the ice-bank; but after dangerous efforts he was forced to resign
himself, and to go down Regent's Channel again; he would not stop
at Port Leopold, which, open to-day, might be closed again to-morrow
by an unexpected displacement of ice-fields, a very frequent
phenomenon in these seas, and which navigators ought particularly
to take into consideration.
If Hatteras did not allow his uneasiness to be outwardly perceived,
it did not prevent him feeling it inwardly. His desire was to push
northward, whilst, on the contrary, he found himself constrained to
put back southward. Where should he get to in that case? Should he
be obliged to put back to Victoria Harbour, in Boothia Gulf, where
Sir John Ross wintered in 1833? Would he find Bellot Strait open at
that epoch, and could he ascend Peel Strait by rounding North
Somerset? Or, again, should he, like his predecessors, find himself
captured during several winters, and be compelled to exhaust his
strength and provisions? These fears were fermenting in his brain;
he must decide one way or other. He heaved about, and struck out south.
The width of Prince Regent's Channel is about the same from Port
Leopold to Adelaide Bay. The _Forward_, more favoured than the ships
which had preceded her, and of which the greater number had required
more than a month to descend the channel, even in a more favourable
season, made her way rapidly amongst the icebergs; it is true that
other ships, with the exception of the _Fox_, had no steam at their
disposal, and had to endure the caprices of an uncertain and often
foul wind.
In general the crew showed little wish to push on with the enterprising
Hatteras; the men were only too glad to perceive that the vessel was
taking a southerly direction. Hatteras would have liked to go on
regardless of consequences.
The _Forward_ rushed along under the pressure of her engines, the
smoke from which twisted round the shining points of the icebergs;
the weather was constantly changing from dry cold to snowy fogs. The
brig, which drew little water, sailed along the west coast; Hatteras
did not wish to miss the entrance to Bellot Strait, as the only outlet
to the Gulf of Boothia on the south was the strait, only partially
known to the _Fury_ and the _Hecla_; if he missed the Bellot Strait,
he might be shut up without possibility of egress.
In the evening the _Forward_ was in sight of Elwin Bay, known by its
high perpendicular rocks; on the Tuesday morning Batty Bay was sighted,
where the _Prince Albert_ anchored for its long wintering on the 10th
of September, 1851. The doctor swept the whole coast with his
telescope. It was from this point that the expeditions radiated that
established the geographical configuration of North Somerset. The
weather was clear, and the profound ravines by which the bay is
surrounded could be clearly distinguished.
The doctor and Johnson were perhaps the only beings on board who took
any interest in these deserted countries. Hatteras was always intent
upon his maps, and said little; his taciturnity increased as the brig
got more and more south; he often mounted the poop, and there with
folded arms, and eyes lost in vacancy, he stood for hours. His orders,
when he gave any, were curt and rough. Shandon kept a cold silence,
and kept himself so much aloof by degrees that at last he had no
relations with Hatteras except those exacted by the service; James
Wall remained devoted to Shandon, and regulated his conduct
accordingly. The remainder of the crew waited for something to turn
up, ready to take any advantage in their own interest. There was no
longer that unity of thought and communion of ideas on board which
are so necessary for the accomplishment of anything great, and this
Hatteras knew to his sorrow.
During the day two whales were perceived rushing towards the south;
a white bear was also seen, and was shot at without any apparent
success. The captain knew the value of an hour under the circumstances,
and would not allow the animal to be chased.
On Wednesday morning the extremity of Regent's Channel was passed;
the angle on the west coast was followed by a deep curve in the land.
By consulting his map the doctor recognised the point of Somerset
House, or Fury Point.
"There," said he to his habitual companion--"there is the very spot
where the first English ship, sent into these seas in 1815, was lost,
during the third of Parry's voyages to the Pole; the _Fury_ was so
damaged by the ice on her second wintering, that her crew were obliged
to desert her and return to England on board her companion ship the
_Hecla_."
"That shows the advantage of having a second ship," answered Johnson.
"It is a precaution that Polar navigators ought not to neglect, but
Captain Hatteras wasn't the sort of man to trouble himself with
another ship."
"Do you think he is imprudent, Johnson?" asked the doctor.
"I? I think nothing, Mr. Clawbonny. Do you see those stakes over there
with some rotten tent-rags still hanging to them?"
"Yes; that's where Parry disembarked his provisions from his ship,
and, if I remember rightly, the roof of his tent was a topsail."
"Everything must be greatly changed since 1825!"
"Not so much as any one might think. John Ross owed the health and
safety of his crew to that fragile habitation in 1829. When the _Prince
Albert_ sent an expedition there in 1851, it was still existing;
Captain Kennedy had it repaired, nine years ago now. It would be
interesting to visit it, but Hatteras isn't in the humour to stop!"
"I daresay he is right, Mr. Clawbonny; if time is money in England,
here it is life, and a day's or even an hour's delay might make all
the difference."
During the day of Thursday, the 1st of June, the _Forward_ cut across
Creswell Bay; from Fury Point the coast rose towards the north in
perpendicular rocks three hundred feet high; it began to get lower
towards the south; some snow summits looked like neatly-cut tables,
whilst others were shaped like pyramids, and had other strange forms.
The weather grew milder during that day, but was not so clear; land
was lost to sight, and the thermometer went up to thirty-two degrees;
seafowl fluttered about, the flocks of wild ducks were seen flying
north; the crew could divest themselves of some of their garments,
and the influence of the Arctic summer began to be felt. Towards
evening the _Forward_ doubled Cape Garry at a quarter of a mile from
the shore, where the soundings gave from ten to twelve fathoms; from
thence she kept near the coast as far as Brentford Bay. It was under
this latitude that Bellot Strait was to be met with; a strait the
existence of which Sir John Ross did not even guess at during his
expedition in 1828; his maps indicated an uninterrupted coast-line,
whose irregularities he noted with the utmost care; the entrance to
the strait must therefore have been blocked up by ice at the time.
It was really discovered by Kennedy in April, 1852, and he gave it
the name of his lieutenant, Bellot, as "a just tribute," he said,
"to the important services rendered to our expedition by the French
officer."
CHAPTER XVI
THE MAGNETIC POLE
Hatteras felt his anxiety increase as he neared the strait; the fate
of his voyage depended upon it; up till now he had done more than
his predecessors, the most fortunate of whom, McClintock, had taken
fifteen months to reach this part of the Polar Seas; but it was little
or nothing if he did not succeed in clearing Bellot Strait; he could
not retrace his steps, and would be blocked up till the following
year.
He trusted the care of examining the coast to no one but himself;
he mounted the crow's nest and passed several hours there during the
morning of Saturday. The crew perfectly understood the ship's
position; profound silence reigned on board; the engine slackened
steam, and the _Forward_ kept as near land as possible; the coast
bristled with icebergs, which the warmest summers do not melt; an
experienced eye alone could distinguish an opening between them.
Hatteras compared his maps with the land. As the sun showed himself
for an instant towards noon, he caused Shandon and Wall to take a
pretty exact observation, which was shouted to him. All the crew
suffered the tortures of anxiety for half the day, but towards two
o'clock these words were shouted from the top of the mizenmast:
"Veer to the west, all steam on."
The brig instantly obeyed; her prow was directed towards the point
indicated; the sea foamed under the screws, and the _Forward_, with
all speed on, entered between two ice-streams. The road was found,
Hatteras descended upon deck, and the ice-master took his place.
"Well, captain," said the doctor, "we are in the famous strait at
last."
"Yes," answered Hatteras, lowering his voice; "but getting in isn't
everything; we must get out too," and so saying he regained his cabin.
"He's right," said the doctor; "we are here in a sort of mousetrap,
with scarcely enough space for working the brig, and if we are forced
to winter in the strait!... Well, we shan't be the first that have
had to do it, and they got over it, and so shall we."
The doctor was not mistaken. It was in that very place, in a little
sheltered harbour called Kennedy Harbour by McClintock himself, that
the _Fox_ wintered in 1858. The high granite chain and the steep cliffs
of the two banks were clearly discernible.
Bellot Strait is seventeen miles long and a mile wide, and about six
or seven fathoms deep. It lies between mountains whose height is
estimated at 1,600 feet. It separates North Somerset from Boothia
Land.
It is easy to understand that there is not much elbow-room for vessels
in such a strait. The _Forward_ advanced slowly, but it did advance;
tempests are frequent in the strait, and the brig did not escape them;
by Hatteras's order all sails were furled; but, notwithstanding all
precautions, the brig was much knocked about; the waves dashed over
her, and her smoke fled towards the east with astonishing rapidity;
her course was not certain amongst the moving ice; the barometer fell;
it was difficult to stop on deck, and most of the men stayed below
to avoid useless suffering.
Hatteras, Johnson, and Shandon remained on the poop in spite of the
gales of snow and rain; as usual the doctor had asked himself what
would be the most disagreeable thing he could do, and answered himself
by going on deck at once; it was impossible to hear and difficult
to see one another, so that he kept his reflections to himself.
Hatteras tried to see through the fog; he calculated that they would
be at the mouth of the strait at six o'clock, but when the time came
all issue seemed closed up; he was obliged to wait and anchor the
brig to an iceberg; but he stopped under pressure all night.
The weather was frightful. The _Forward_ threatened to break her
chains at every instant; it was feared that the iceberg to which they
were anchored, torn away at its base under the violent west wind,
would float away with the brig. The officers were constantly on the
look-out and under extreme apprehension; along with the snow there
fell a perfect hail of ice torn off from the surface of the icebergs
by the strength of the wind; it was like a shower of arrows bristling
in the atmosphere. The temperature rose singularly during this
terrible night; the thermometer marked fifty-seven degrees, and the
doctor, to his great astonishment, thought he saw flashes of lightning
in the south, followed by the roar of far-off thunder that seemed
to corroborate the testimony of the whaler Scoresby, who observed
a similar phenomenon above the sixty-fifth parallel. Captain Parry
was also witness to a similar meteorological wonder in 1821.
Towards five o'clock in the morning the weather changed with
astonishing rapidity; the temperature went down to freezing point,
the wind turned north, and became calmer. The western opening to the
strait was in sight, but entirely obstructed. Hatteras looked eagerly
at the coast, asking himself if the passage really existed. However,
the brig got under way, and glided slowly amongst the ice-streams,
whilst the icebergs pressed noisily against her planks, the packs
at that epoch were still from six to seven feet thick; they were
obliged carefully to avoid their pressure, for if the brig had
resisted them s
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