ESQUIMO KINDNESS.
THE company made slow and tiresome progress by Littleton Island, and were carrying their entire load forward in parcels to the mainland at the northern opening of Etah Bay, when the sad news was whispered to Dr. Kane, who was with the advanced party, that Ohlsen was dead. A gloom spread over the whole company. The fact was carefully concealed from the Esquimo, who were sent to Etah under the pretext of bringing back a supply of birds, the entire dog force being given them to hasten their departure.
The funeral service, though attended by sincere grief, was necessarily brief. The body was sewed up in Ohlsen's own blankets, the burial service read, the prayer offered, and it was borne by his comrades in solemn procession to a little gorge on the shore, and deposited in a trench made with extreme difficulty. A sheet of lead, on which his name and age was cut, was laid upon his breast; a monument of stones was erected over it, to preserve it from the beasts of prey, and to mark the spot. They named the land which overshadowed the spot Cape Ohlsen.
Having given two quiet hours, after the funeral service, to the solemn occasion, the work at thedrag-ropes was continued. The Esquimo returned in full force, and with abundant provisions. They took their turn at the drag-ropes with a shout; they carried the sick on their sledges, and relieved the whole expedition from care concerning their supplies. They brought in one week eight dozen sea-fowl—little auks—caught in their hand-nets, and fed men and dogs. All ate, hunger was fully satisfied, care for the time departed, the men broke out into their old forecastle songs, and the sledges went merrily forward with laugh and jest.
Passing round Cape Alexander, down Etah Bay, a short distance toward the settlement, the expedition encamped. The long-sought, coveted open water was only three miles away; its roar saluted their ears, and its scent cheered their hearts. The difficult and delicate work of preparing the boats for the sea-voyage now commenced. In the mean time the people of Etah, men, women, and children, came and encamped in their midst, leaving only three persons—two old women and a blind old man—in the settlement. They slept in the "Red Eric," and fed on the stew cooked for them in the big camp-kettle. Each one had a keepsake of a file, a knife, a saw, or some such article of great value. The children had each that great medicine for Esquimo sickness, a piece of soap, for which they merrily shouted, "Thank you, thank you, big chief." There was joy in the Esquimo camp which knew but one sorrow—that of the speedy departure of thestrangers. At the mention of this one woman stepped behind a tent screen and wept, wiping her teary face with a bird-skin.
Dr. Kane rode to Etah to bid the aged invalids good-bye. Then came the last distribution of presents. Every one had something, but the great gift of amputating knives went to the chief, Metek, and the patriarch, Nessark. The dogs were given to the community at large, excepting Toodla-mik and Whitey; these veterans of many well-fought battle-fields were reserved to share the homeward fortunes of their owners. Toodla was no common dog, but earned for himself a place in dog history. As we are to meet the dogs no more in our narrative, we will give Toodla's portrait to be set up with our pen sketches. He was purchased at Upernavik, and so he received the advantages of, at least, a partially civilized education. His head was more compact, his nose less pointed than most dogs of his kind, and his eye denoted affection and self-reliance, and his carriage was bold and defiant. Toodla, at the commencement of the cruise, appointed himself general-in-chief of all the dogs. Now it often happens, with dogs as well as with men, that to assume superiority is much easier than to maintain it. But Toodla's generalship was never successfully disputed. The position, however, cost him many a hard-fought battle, for the new comers naturally desired to test his title to rule. These he soundly whipped on their introduction to the pack. He even often left the brig's side, head erect, tailgracefully curled over his back, and moved toward a stranger dog with a proud, defiant air, as much as to say, "I am master here, sir!" If this was doubted, he vindicated his boasting on the spot. Such tyranny excited rebellions of course, and strong combinations were formed against him; but dogs which had been trounced individually make weak organizations, and the coalitions gave way before Toodla's prowess. It is but fair, however, to say that he had strong allies upon whom he fell back in great emergencies—the sailors. Toodla died in Philadelphia, and still lives—that is, his stuffed skin still exists in the museum of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences. His reputation is of the same sort as that of many of the heroes of history, and worth as much to the world.
Dr. Kane having distributed the presents and disposed of the dogs, there was nothing now but the farewell address to render the parting ceremony complete. Dr. Kane called the natives about him and spoke to them through Petersen as interpreter. He talked to them as those from whom kindness had been received, and to whom a return was to be made. He told them about the tribes of their countrymen farther south whom he knew, and from whom they were separated by the glaciers and the sea; he spoke of the longer daylight, the less cold, the more abundant game, the drift-wood, the fishing-nets, and kayaks of these relatives. He tried to explain to them that under bold and cautious guidance they might,in the course of a season or two, reach this happier region.
During this talk they crowded closer and closer to the speaker, and listened with breathless attention to his remarks, often looking at each other significantly.
Having thus parted with the natives, our exploring party hauled their boats to the margin of the ice. The "Red Eric" was launched, and three cheers were given for "Henry Grinnell and Homeward Bound." But the storm king said, "Not yet!" He sounded an alarm in their ears, and they drew the "Eric" from the water and retreated on the floe, which broke up in their rear with great rapidity. Back, back, they tramped, wearily and painfully, all that night, until the next day they found a sheltering berg near the land, where they made a halt. Here they rested until the wind had spent its wrath, and the sea had settled into a placid quiet. Their voyaging on the floe with drag-ropes and sledges was ended.
MELVILLE BAY.
ON the nineteenth of June the boats were launched into the sea, now calm, the "Faith" leading under Kane, and the "Eric" under Bonsall, and the "Hope" under Brooks following. The sea birds screamed a welcome to the squadron, and flew about them as if to inquire why they came back in three vessels instead of one, as when they sailed northward two years before. But there was no leisure for converse with birds. They had just passed Hakluyt Island, when the "Eric" sunk. Her crew, Bonsall, Riley, and Godfrey, struggled to the other boats, and the "Faith" took the sunken craft in tow. Soon after Brooks shouted that the "Hope" was leaking badly, and threatening to sink. Fortunately the floe was not far off, and into one of its creek-like openings they run the boats, fastened them to the ice, and the weary men lay down in their bunks without drawing the boats from the water and slept.
The next day they drew their leaking crafts ashore, and calked them for another sea adventure. For several days they struggled with varying fortunes until they brought up, weary, disheartened, and worn down by work and an insufficient diet of bread-dust, and fastened to an old floe near theland. Scarcely were they anchored when a vast ice raft caught upon a tongue of the solid floe about a mile to the seaward of them, and began to swing round upon it as a pivot, and to close in upon our explorers. This was a new game of the ice-enemy. Nearer and nearer came the revolving icy platform, seeming to gather force with every whirl. At first the commotion that was made started the floe, to which they were fastened, on a run toward the shore as if to escape the danger. But it soon brought up against the rocks and was overtaken by its pursuer. In an instant the collision came. The men sprang, by force of discipline, to the boats and the stores, to bear them back to a place of safety, but wild and far-spread ruin was around them. The whole platform where they stood crumbled and crushed under the pressure, and was tossed about and piled up as if the ice-demon was in a frenzy of passion. Escape for the boats seemed for the moment impossible, and none expected it; and none could tell when they were let down into the water, nor hardly how, yet they found themselves whirling in the midst of the broken hummocks, now raised up and then shaken as if every joint in the helpless, trembling boats was to be dislocated. The noise would have drowned the uproar of contending armies as ice was hurled against ice, and, as it felt the awful pressure, it groaned harsh and terrific thunder. The men, though utterly powerless, grasped their boat-hooks as the boats were borne away in the tumultuous mass of broken ice and hurried on towardthe shore. Slowly the tumult began to subside, and the fragments to clear away, until the almost bewildered men found themselves in a stretch of water making into the land, wide enough to enable them to row. They came against the wall of the ice-foot, and, grappling it, waited for the rising tide to lift them to its top. While here the storm was fearful, banging the boats against the ice-wall, and surging the waves into them, thus keeping the imperiled men at work for dear life in bailing out the water. They were at last lifted by the tide to the ice-foot, upon which they pulled their boats, all uniting on each boat. They had landed on the cliff at the mouth of a gorge in the rock; into this they dragged the boats, keeping them square on their keels. A sudden turn in the cave placed a wall between them and the storm, which was now raging furiously. While they were drawing in the last boat, a flock of eider ducks gladdened their hearts as they flew swiftly past. God had not only guided them to a sheltered haven, but had assured them of abundant food on the morrow. They were in the breeding home of the sea-fowl. Thus comforted they lay down to sleep, though wet and hungry. They named their providential harbor the "Weary Man's Rest," and remained in it three days, eating until hunger was appeased, and gathering eggs at the rate of twelve hundred a day, and laughing at the storms which roared without.
On the fourth of July, after as much of a patriotic celebration as their circumstances allowed, they again launched into the sea.
For some days they moved slowly south, but it was only by picking their way through the leads, for they found the sea nearly closed. As they approached Cape Dudley Digges their way was entirely closed. They pushed into an opening that led to the bottom of its precipitous cliff. Here they found a rocky shelf, overshadowed by the towering rocks, just large enough and in the right position at high tide to make a platform on which they could land their boats. Here they waited a whole week for the ice toward Cape York to give way. The sea-fowl were abundant and of a choice kind. The scurvy-killing cochlearia was at hand, which they ate with their eggs. It was indeed a "providential halt," for the fact was constantly forced upon them that they had come here, as they had to "Weary Man's Rest," by no skill or knowledge of their own.
It was the eighteenth of July before the condition of the ice was such as to make the renewal of their voyage possible. Two hundred and fifty choice fowl had been skinned, cut open, and dried on the rocks, besides a store of those thrown aboard as they were caught.
They now sailed along the coast, passing the "Crimson Cliffs" of Sir John Ross. The birds were abundant, their halting-places on the shore were clothed with green, and the fresh-water streams at which they filled their vessels were pouring down from the glaciers. They built great blazing fires of dry turf which cost nothing but the gathering. After a day's hard rowing thesportsmen brought in fresh fowl, and, gathered about their camp-fire, all ate, and then stretched themselves on the moss carpet and slept. They enjoyed thankfully this Arctic Eden all the more as they all knew that perils and privations were just before them.
They wisely provided during these favored days a large stock of provisions, amounting to six hundred and forty pounds, besides their dried birds. Turf fuel, too, was taken on board for the fires.
They reached Cape York on the twenty-first of July. From this place they were to try the dangers of Melville Bay, across which in their frail boats they must sail. It had smiled upon their northward voyage; would it favor their escape now? It certainly did not hold out to them flattering promises. The inshore ice was solid yet, and terribly hummocky. The open sea was far to the west, but along the margin of the floe were leads, and fortunately there was one beginning where they had halted. The boats were hauled up, examined, and as much as possible repaired. The "Red Eric" was stripped, her cargo taken out, and her hull held in reserve for fuel. A beacon was erected from which a red flannel skirt was thrown as a pennant to the wind to attract attention. Under this beacon records were left which told in brief the story of the expedition. This done, and the blessing of God implored, the voyagers entered the narrow opening in the ice.
For a while all went well, but one evening Dr. Kane was hastily called on deck. The huge icebergshad bewildered the helmsman in the leading boat, and he had missed the channel, and had turned directly toward the shore until the boat was stopped by the solid floe. The lead through which they had come had closed in their rear, and they were completely entangled in the ice!
Without telling the men what had happened, the commander, under the pretense of drying the clothes, ordered the boats drawn up, and a camp was made on the ice.
In the morning Kane and M'Gary climbed a berg some three hundred feet high. They were appalled by their situation; the water was far away, and huge bergs and ugly hummocks intervened. M'Gary, an old-whaleman, familiar from early manhood with the hardships of Arctic voyaging, wept at the sight.
There was but one way out of this entanglement; the sledges must be taken from the sides of the boats, where they had been hung for such emergencies, the boats placed on them, and the old drag-rope practice must be tried until the expedition reached the edge of the floe. One sledge, that which bore the "Red Eric," had been used for fuel; so the "Red Eric" itself was knocked to pieces, and stowed away for the same use. About three days were consumed in thus toiling before they reached the lead which they had left, launched once more into waters, and sailed away before a fine breeze.
Thus far the boats had kept along the outer edge of the floe, following the openings throughthe ice. But as this was slow work, though much safer, they now ventured a while in the open sea farther west; but they were driven back to the floe by heavy fogs, and on trying to get the boats into a lead, one of those incidents occurred so often noticed, in which God's hand was clearly seen. All hands were drawing up the "Hope," and she had just reached a resting-place on the floe, when-the "Faith," their best boat, with all their stores on board, went adrift. The sight produced an almost panic sensation among the men. The "Hope" could not possibly be launched in time to overtake her, for she was drifting rapidly. But before they could collect their thoughts to devise the means of her rescue, a cake of ice swung round, touched the floe where they stood, reaching at the same time nearly to the "Faith," thus bridging over the chasm. Instantly Kane and M'Gary sprung upon it, and from it into the escaping boat. She was saved.
SAVED.
MATTERS were getting into a serious condition. The delays had been so many that the stock of birds had been eaten, and the men had been for several days on short allowance, which showed itself in their failing strength. They were far out to sea, midway of the Melville Bay navigation, and the boats were receiving a rough handling, and required continual bailing to keep them from sinking.
It was just at this crisis that the ever timely aid came. A large seal was seen floating upon a small patch of ice, seeming to be asleep. A signal was given for the "Hope" to fall astern, while the "Faith" approached noiselessly upon him, with stockings drawn over the oars. Petersen lay in the bow with a large English rifle, and as they drew near, the men were so excited that they could scarcely row; the safety of the whole company seemed staked upon the capture of that seal. When within three hundred yards, the oars were taken in, and the boat moved silently on by a scull-oar at the stern. The seal was not asleep, for when just beyond the reach of the ball he raised his head. The thin, care-worn, almost despairing faces of the men showed their deep concernas he appeared about to make his escape. Dr. Kane gave the signal to fire; but poor Petersen, almost paralyzed by anxiety, was trying nervously to get a rest for his gun on the edge of the bow. The seal rose on his fore-flipper, looked curiously around, and coiled himself up for a plunge. The rifle cracked at the instant, and the seal at the same moment drooped his head one side, and stretched his full length on the ice at the brink of his hole. With a frantic yell the men urged the boats to the floe, seized the seal, and bore him to a safer place. They brandished their knives, cut long strips of the seal, and went dancing about the floe, eating and sucking their bloody fingers in wild delight. The seal was large and fat, but not an ounce of him was wasted. A fire was built that night on the floe, and the joyous feast went on until hunger was appeased; they had driven away its gnawings, and, happily, it returned no more.
On the first of August they had passed the terrible bay, and sighted land on its southern side. Familiar landmarks of the whalers came in sight. They passed the Duck Islands and Cape Shackelton, and coasted along by the hills, seeking a cove in which to land. One was soon found, the boats drawn up, a little time spent in thanksgiving and congratulations, and then they lay down on the dry land and slept.
They continued to coast near the shore, dodging about among the islands, and dropping into the bays, and landing for rest at night. It was at oneof these sleeping-halts on the rocks that Petersen saw one of the natives, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance; he was in his kayak seeking eider-down among the rocks. Petersen hailed him, but the man played shy. "Paul Zacharias," shouted Petersen, "don't you know me? I am Carl Petersen!"
"No," replied the man; "his wife says he's dead."
The native stared at the weather-beaten, long-bearded man for a moment as he loomed up through the fog, and then turned the bow of his boat, and paddled away as if a phantom was pursuing him.
Two days after this the explorers were rowing leisurely along in a fog, which had just began to lift and dimly reveal the objects on shore. At this moment a familiar sound came to them over the water. It was the "huk" of the Esquimo, for which they had often taken the bark of a fox or the startling screech of the gulls; but this "huk! huk!" died away in the home-thrilling "halloo!"
"Listen, Petersen! what is it?"
Petersen listened quietly for a moment, and then, trembling with emotion, said, in an undertone, "Dannemarkers!"
Then the whole company stood up and peered into the distant nooks, in breathless silence to catch the sound again. The sound came again, and all was a moment silent. It was the first Christian voice they had heard beyond their ownparty for two years. But they saw nothing. Was it not a cheat after all of their nervous, excited feelings? The men sat down again and bent to their oars, and their boats swept in for the cape from which the sound proceeded. They scanned narrowly every nook and green spot where the strangers might be found. A full half hour passed in this exciting search. At last the single mast of a small shallop was seen. Petersen, who had kept himself during the search very still and sober, burst into a fit of crying, relieved by broken exclamations of English and Danish, gulping down his words at intervals, and wringing his hands all the while. "'Tis the Upernavik oil-boat!" "The Mariane has come! and Carlie Mossyn—"
Petersen had hit the facts. The annual ship, Mariane, had arrived at Proven, and Carlie Mossyn had come up to get the year's supply of blubber from Kinqatok.
Here our explorers listened while Carlie, in answer to their questions, gave them a hint of what had been going on in the civilized world during their long absence. The Crimean war had been begun and was in bloody progress, but "Sebastopol wasn't taken!" "Where and what is Sebastopol?" they queried. "But what of America?" Carlie didn't know much about that country, for no whale ships were on the coast, but said "a steamer and a bark passed up a fortnight ago seeking your party."
"What of Sir John Franklin?" they next inquired. Carlie said the priest had a Germannewspaper which said traces of his boats and dead had been found! Yes, found a thousand miles away from the region where our explorers had been looking for them!
One more row into the fog and one more halting on the rocks. They all washed clean in the fresh water of the basins, and brushed up their ragged furs and woolens. The next morning they neared the settlement of Upernavik, of which Petersen had been foreman, and they heard the yelling of the dogs as its snowy hill-top showed itself through the mist, and the tolling of the workmen's bells calling them to their daily labor came as sweet music to their ears. They rowed into the big harbor, landed by an old Brewhouse, and hauled their boats up for the last time. A crowd of merry children came round them with cheerful faces and curious eyes. In the crowd were the wife and children of Petersen. Our explorers were safe; their perils were over!
Having lived in the open air for eighty-four days, they felt a sense of suffocation within the walls of a house. But divided among many kind, hospitable homes, they drank their coffee and listened to hymns of welcome sung by many voices.
The people of Upernavik fitted up a loft for the reception of the wayfarers, and showed them great kindness. They remained until the sixth of September, and then embarked on the Danish vessel "Mariane," whose captain was to leave them at the nearest English port on his way to Denmark.The boat "Faith" was taken on board, as a relic of their perilous adventure; the document box containing their precious records, and the furs on their backs—these were all that were saved of the heroic brig "Advance."
The "Mariane" made a short stay at Godhavn. The searching company under Captain Hartstene had left there for the icy north one the twenty-first of July, since which nothing was known of them.
The "Mariane" was on the eve of leaving with our explorers when the lookout shouted from the hill-top that a steamer was in the distance. It drew near with a bark in tow, both flying the stars and stripes. The "Faith" was lowered for the last time, and, with Brooks at the helm, Dr. Kane went out to meet them. As they came alongside Captain Hartstene hailed: "Is that Dr. Kane?" "Yes!" Instantly the men sprung into the rigging and gave cheers of welcome; and the whole country, on the arrival of the long-lost explorers, repeated the glad shout of welcome; and the Christian world echoed, "Welcome!"
OFF AGAIN.
DR. KANE'S party came home, as we have seen, in the fall of 1855. Dr. Hayes, with whom we have become acquainted as one of that number, began immediately to present the desirableness of further exploration in the same direction to the scientific men of the country, and to the public generally. His object was to sail to the west side of Smith's Sound, instead of the east, as in the last voyage, and to gather additional facts concerning the currents, the aurora, the glaciers, the directions and intensity of "the magnetic force," and so to aid in settling many interesting scientific questions. He aimed also, of course, to further peer into the mysteries of the open Polar Sea.
These efforts resulted in the fitting out for this purpose, in the summer of 1860, the schooner "United States," and the appointment of Dr. Hayes as commander. She left Boston July sixth, manned by fourteen persons all told. The vessel was small, but made for arctic warfare, and as she turned her prow North Poleward, she bore a defiant spirit, and, like all inexperienced warriors, reckoned the victory already hers. But if the vessel was "green" her commander was not. Hewas well able to help her in the coming battle with icebergs and floes.
Among her men were only two besides the doctor who had seen arctic service, one of whom was Professor August Sontag, who had been of Kane's party, and had also been of the number who accompanied Dr. Hayes in the attempt to escape. Of the rest of the crew were two young men nearly of an age, about eighteen, who are represented as joining the expedition because they would, and in love of adventure. Their names were George F. Knorr, commander's clerk, and Collins C. Starr. Both pressed their desire to go upon Dr. Hayes, and Starr told him that he would go inanycapacity. The commander told him he might go in the forecastle with the common sailors, and the next day, to the surprise of the doctor, he found him on board, manfully at work with the roughest of the men, having doffed his silk hat, fine broadcloth, and shining boots of the elegant young man of the day before. The commander was so pleased with his spirit that he promoted him on the spot, sending him off to be sailing-master's mate.
In a little less than four weeks of prosperous sailing, the "United States" was at the Danish port of Proven, Greenland. It was the intention of the commander to get a supply here of the indispensable dog-teams, but disease had raged among them, and none could be bought. The vessel was delayed, in order that the chief trader, Mr. Hansen, who was daily expected from Upernavik,might be consulted in the matter. When he arrived he gave a gloomy account of the dog-market, but kindlygavethe expedition his own teams. The couriers which had been sent out to scour the country for others, returned with four old dogs and a less number of good ones.
On the evening of the twelfth of August the explorers arrived at Upernavik. The Danish brig "Thialfe" lay at anchor in the harbor, about to sail for Copenhagen with a cargo of skins and oil, so the first letters to the dear ones at home were hastily written to send by her. They bore sad news to at least one family circle. Mr. Gibson Caruther retired to his berth well on the evening of their arrival, and in the morning was found dead. He had escaped the perils of the first Grinnell Expedition under Capt. De Haven to die thus suddenly ere those of his second voyage had begun. He was beloved, able, and intelligent, and his death was a great loss to the enterprise. His companions laid him away in the mission burial-ground, the missionary, Mr. Anton, officiating.
Before leaving Upernavik, Dr. Hayes secured the services of an Esquimo interpreter, one Peter Jensen, who brought on board with him one of the best dog-teams of the country; and soon after he came, two more Esquimo hunters and dog-drivers were enlisted; and a still better addition to the expedition were two Danish sailors, one of whom is our old friend whom we left here some five years ago rejoicing in re-union with wife and children—CarlChristian Petersen. Petersen enlisted as carpenter as well as sailor.
With these six persons added to her company, making it twenty in all, the "United States" left Upernavik to enter upon the earnest work of the expedition. The settlement had scarcely faded in the distance, when the icebergs were seen marshaling their forces to give the little voyager battle. A long line of them was formed just across her course, some more than two hundred feet high and a mile long. They were numberless, and at a distance seemed to make a solid, jagged ice-wall. When the schooner was fairly in among them, the sunlight was shut out as it is from the traveler in a dense forest. She felt the wind in a "cat's-paw" now and then, and so the helm lost its control of her, and she went banging against first one berg and then another. The bergs themselves minded not the little breeze which was blowing, but swept majestically along by the under current. The navigators were kept on the alert to keep the vessel from fatal collision with its huge, cold, defiant enemies, as the surface current drove it helplessly onward. Sometimes, as they approached one, the boats were lowered, and the vessel was towed away from danger; at another crisis, as it neared one berg, an anchor was planted in another in an opposite direction, and she was warped into a place of security. Occasionally they tied up to a berg and waited for a chance for progress.
While thus beset with dangers, there were occasionsof some pleasant excitement. The birds were abundant and of many varieties, affording sport for the hunters and fresh food for the table; the seals sported in the clear water, and were shot for the larder of the dogs; and Dr. Hayes and Professor Sontag found employment with their scientific instruments.
Such had been the state of things for four days, when one morning the vessel was borne toward a large berg, of a kind the sailors called "touch-me-nots." It was an old voyager, whose jagged sides, high towers, deep valleys and swelling hills, showed that time, the sun, and the tides, had laid their hands upon it. Such bergs are about as good neighbors as an avalanche on a mountain side, just ready for a run into the valley below. Warps and tow-boats, instantly and vigorously used, failed to stop the schooner's headway. She touched the berg, and down dropped fragments of it larger than the vessel, followed by a shower of smaller pieces; but they went clear of the vessel. Now the berg began to revolve, turning toward the explorers, and as its towering sides settled slowly over them, fragments poured upon the deck—a fearful hail-storm. There was no safety for the men except in the forecastle, and there appeared to be no escape for the schooner. But just in time an immense section of the base of the berg, which seemed to be far below the water line, broke off, and rose to the surface with a sudden rush, which threw the sea into violent commotion. The balance of the berg was changed; it paused, and then began, slowly atfirst but with increasing rapidity, to turn in the opposite direction. If this was intended as a retreat of the bergy foe, it defended well its rear. At its base, from which the piece had just been broken, was an icy projection toward the vessel; as the berg revolved, this tongue came up and struck the keel. It seemed intent upon tossing the vessel into the air, or rolling her over and leaving her bottom side up upon the sea. The men seized their poles and pushed vigorously to launch the vessel from the perilous position, but in vain. Just in time again the unseen Hand interfered for their deliverance. Deafening reports, like a park of artillery, saluted their ears, and a misty smoke arose above the berg. Its opposite side was breaking up, and launching its towering peaks into the sea. The berg paused again and began to roll back, and thus for the moment released the vessel. The boat had in the meantime fastened an anchor in a grounded berg, and the welcome shout came, "Haul in!" Steadily and with a will the men drew upon the rope, and the vessel moved slowly from the scene of danger, not, however, before the returning top of the berg had launched upon her deck a shower of ice-fragments, in fearful assurance that its whole side would soon follow and bury them as the shepherd's hut is buried by a mountain slide. A few moments later and the side came down with a tremendous crash, sending its spray over the escaped vessel, and tossing it as the drift-wood is tossed in the eddies beneath a water-fall.
All that day the roar of the icy cannon was continued, as if a naval battle was in progress for the empire of the north, and berg after berg went down, strewing the sea with their shattered fragments, while misty clouds floated over the field of conflict.
COLLIDING FLOES.
AFTER this ice encounter the expedition put into a little port called Tessuissak, to complete their outfit of dogs. An impatient tarry of two days enabled them to count, on the deck of the little vessel, thirty first-class, howling dogs, whose amiable tempers found expression in biting each other, and making both day and night hideous with their noise.
This port was left on the twenty-third of August, and, much to the joy of all, the dreaded Melville Bay was clear of the ice-pack; the icebergs, however, kept their watch over its storm-tossed waters. Through these waters driven before a fierce wind, and buried often in a fog so dense that the length of the vessel could not be seen, the "United States" sped. Its anxious commander was on deck night and day, not knowing the moment when an icy wall, as fatal to the vessel as one of granite, might arrest its course and send it instantly to the bottom of the sea. Once they passed so near a berg just crossing their track that the fore-yard grazed its side, and the spray from its surf-beaten wall was thrown upon the deck. A berg at one time hove in sight with an arch through it large enough for a passage-way forthe schooner. The explorers declined, however, the novel adventure. The passage of Melville Bay was made, with sails only, in fifty-five hours. The pack which had invariably troubled explorers seemed to have been enjoying a summer vacation, and the bergs were off duty. The expedition had reached the North Water and lay off Cape York.
The ocean current which sweeps past this cape, and opens the way to the other side of Baffin Bay, is wonderful. It is the great Polar current which comes rushing down through Spitzbergen Sea, along the eastern coast of Greenland, laden with ice, and taking the waters of its rivers with their freight of drift-wood as it passes. Leaving most of the wood along its shore, a welcome gift to the people, it sweeps around Cape Farewell, courses near the western shore in its run north until it has passed Melville Bay. When it has crossed over to the American shore near Jones Strait, it joins the current from the Arctic Sea, turns south, and makes the long journey until it reaches our own coast, dropping its ice freight as it goes, and sending its cooling air through the heat-oppressed atmosphere of our summer.
As our explorers approached the shore of Cape York they looked carefully for the natives. Soon a company of Esquimo were seen making their wild gesticulations to attract attention. A boat was lowered, and Dr. Hayes and Professor Sontag went ashore, and as they approached the landing-place one of the Esquimo called them by name.It was our old friend Hans, of the Kane voyage, who, the reader will recollect, left his white friends for an Esquimo wife. The group consisted, besides Hans, of his wife and baby, his wife's mother, an old woman having marked talking ability, and her son, a bright-eyed boy of twelve years. Hans had found his self-imposed banishment among the savages of this extreme north rather tedious. He had removed his family to this lookout for the whale ships, and had watched and waited. It was the dreariest of places, and his hut, pitched on a bleak spot the better to command a view of the sea, was the most miserable of abodes. It had plainly cost him dear to break his faith with his confiding commander and the friends of his early Christian home.
Dr. Hayes asked Hans if he would go with the expedition. He answered promptly, "Yes."
"Would you take your wife and baby?"
"Yes."
"Would you go without them?"
"Yes."
He was taken on board with his wife and baby. The mother and her boy cried to go, but the schooner was already overcrowded.
Leaving Cape York, the vessel spread her sails before a "ten-knot" breeze, and dodging the icebergs with something of a reckless daring, seemed bent on reaching the Polar Sea before winter set in. At one time what appeared to be two icebergs a short distance apart lay in the course of the vessel. The helmsman was ordered to steerbetween them, for to go round involved quite a circuit. On dashed the brave little craft for the narrow passage. When she was almost abreast of them the officer on the lookout shuddered to see that the seeming bergs were but one, and that the connecting ice appeared to be only a few feet below the surface. It was too late to stop the headway of the vessel, or to turn her to the right or left. She rushed onward, but the water of the opening proved to be deeper than it appeared, and her keel but touched once or twice, just to show how narrow was the escape.
Hans was delighted with his return to ship life. His wife seemed pleased and half bewildered by the strange surroundings. The baby crowed, laughed, and cried, and ate and slept—like other babies.
The sailors put the new comers through a soap-and-water ordeal, to which was added the use of scissors and combs. Esquimo do not bathe, nor practice the arts of the barber, and consequently they keep numerous boarders on their persons. When this necessary cleansing and cropping was done, they donned red shirts and other luxuries of civilization. With the new dresses they were delighted, and they were never tired of strutting about in them. But the soap and water was not so agreeable. At first it was taken as a rough joke, but the wife soon began to cry. She inquired of her husband if it was a religious ceremony of the white men.
The vessel made good time until she camewithin three miles of Cape Alexander. It was now August twenty-eighth, and so it was time these Arctic regions should begin to show their peculiar temper. A storm came down upon them, pouring the vials of its wrath upon the shivering vessel for about three days. During a lull in the storm the schooner was hauled under the shelter of the highlands of Cape Alexander and anchored. She rocked and plunged fearfully. At one time when these gymnastics were going on, the old Swedish cook came to the commander in the cabin with refreshments, but he was hardly able to keep his "sea legs." He remarks as he comes in, "I falls down once, but de commander sees I keeps de coffee. It's good an' hot, and very strong, and go right down into de boots."
"Bad night on deck, cook," remarks the captain.
"O, it's awful, sar! I never see it blow so hard in all my life, an' I's followed de sea morn'n forty years. An' den it's so cold! My galley is full of ice, and de water, it freeze on my stove."
"Here, cook, is a guernsey for you. It will keep you warm."
"Tank you, sar!" says the cook, starting off with his prize. But encouraged by the kind bearing of his captain, he stops and asks, "Would the commander be so kind as to tell me where we is? De gentlemen fool me."
"Certainly, cook. The land over there is Greenland; the big cape is Cape Alexander; beyond that is Smith's Sound, and we are only about eight hundred miles from the North Pole."
"De Nort Pole! vere's dat?"
The commander explains as well as he can.
"Tank you, sar. Vat for we come—to fish?"
"No, not to fish, cook; for science."
"O, dat it! Dey tell me we come to fish. Tank you, sar."
The old cook pulls his greasy cap over his bald head and thinks. "Science!" "De Nort Pole!" He don't get the meaning of these through his cap, and he "tumbles up" the companion-ladder, and goes to the galley to enjoy his guernsey.
Dr. Hayes and Knorr went ashore and climbed to the top of the cliffs, twelve hundred feet. The wind was fearfully breezy, and Knorr's cap left and went sailing like a feather out to sea. The view was full of arctic grandeur, but not flattering to the storm-bound navigators. Ice was evidently king a little farther north.
Soon after the explorer's return to the vessel the storm gathered fresh power, and the anchors began to drag. Soon one hawser parted, and away went the schooner, with fearful velocity, and brought up against a berg. The crash was appalling, and the stern boat flew into splinters. The spars were either bent or carried away; and, as they attempted to hoist the mainsail, it went to pieces. The crippled craft was with difficulty worked back into the projecting covert of Cape Alexander. Her decks were covered with ice, and the dogs were perishing with wet and cold, three having died.
Having repaired damages as well as they could,they again pushed into the pack of Smith's Sound, which lay between them and open water, visible far to the north. Entering a lead under full sail, they made good progress for awhile; but suddenly a solid floe shot across the channel, and the vessel, with full headway, struck it like a battering ram. The cut-water flew into splinters, and the iron sheathing of the bows was torn off as if it had been paper.
Pushing off from the floe, and passing through a narrow lead, they emerged into an area of open water. But the floe was on the alert. This began to close up, and, taking a hint of foul play, the explorers steered toward the shore. But the ice battalions moved with celerity, piled up across the vessel's bow, and closed in on every side. In an hour they held her as in a vice, while the reserve force was called up to crush her to atoms. The foe was jubilant, for the power at his command was kindred to that of the earthquake. An ice-field of millions of tons, moved by combined wind and current, rushed upon the solid ice-field which rested against the immovable rocks of the shore. Between these was the schooner—less than an egg-shell between colliding, heavily laden freight trains. As the pressure came steadily, in well assured strength, she groaned and shrieked like a thing of conscious pain, writhing and twisting as if striving to escape her pitiless adversary. Her deck timbers bowed, and the seams of the deck-planks opened, while her sides seemed ready to yield.
Thus far the closing forces were permitted to strike severely on the side of the helpless vessel, to show that they could crush her as rotten fruit is crushed in a strong man's hand. Then He, without whose permission no force in nature moves, and at whose word they are instantly stayed, directed the floe under the strongly timbered "bilge" of the hull, and, with a jerk which sent the men reeling about the deck, lifted the vessel out of the water. The floes now fought their battle out beneath her, as if they disdained, like the lion with the mouse in his paw, to crush so small a thing. Great ridges were piled up about her, and one underneath lifted her high into the air. Eight hours she remained in this situation, while the lives of all on board seemed suspended on the slenderest thread.
Then came the yielding and breaking up of the floes. Once, at the commencing of the giving way, an ice prop of the bows suddenly yielded, let the forward end of the vessel down while the stern was high in the air. But finally the battered craft settled squarely into the water.
She was leaking badly, and the pumps were kept moving with vigor. The rudder was split, and two of its bolts broken; the stern-post started, and fragments of the cut-water and keel were floating away. But, strange to say, no essential injury was done. She was slowly navigated into Hartstene orEtahBay, where we have been so often, anchored safely, and repairs immediately commenced.