CHAPTER X—POLAR BEAR SHOOTING
"The shapeless bear
With dangling ice, all horrid, stalks forlorn,
Slow paced, and sourer as the storms increase,
He makes his bed beneath the inclement drift,
And with stem patience, scorning weak complaint,
Hardens his heart against the assailing want."
May 20th. Tuesday. We were quite close to Disco in the morning. However, the Captain decided not to go into the settlement, Godhaven, where many other ships lay, but to go west, as the straits appeared tolerably free from ice in that direction. Accordingly, about noon, we turned our bows westward, having a solid looking floe to the north of us and open water to the south. This was all good fishing ground and we might have picked up a big whale, but we did not see a single spout while we were in the neighborhood.
Birds were getting numerous, now that we were amongst the ice, and the edge of the floe was lined with little auks in some places. They were important-looking fellows, like diminutive penguins.
Disco looked wild and forbidding as we steamed away from it, with snow lodged in all the sheltered places.
The island rose to a height of about three thousand feet and much of the coast on the west side of it was precipitous and exposed, so that there were always bare rock faces, which gave a patchy appearance to that place.
To the north of us, many big bergs could be seen, which had come originally from Waggate Straits. Two tremendous ones were at one time aground in this place, in very deep water. They were described by Crants, who tells us that they were there for years.
We had steamed for some distance to the west, along the floe edge, when the lookout called down that he saw a bear on an island of ice, a few points on our starboard bow. I heard him, so immediately went for my rifle. A boat was lowered and we rowed to the island. George Matheson, one of our harpooners, and myself immediately landed, and the boat left us, intending to row around the island so as to intercept bruin, should he attempt to swim to the main floe.
As this was the first wild bear I had ever seen, I was unfamiliar with their ways, but learned afterwards that unless the hunter came suddenly upon one, or unless it had cubs, it would almost invariably retreat and probably take to the water. Of course, it might not know the whereabouts of the hunter, and in that case it would be as liable to go in his direction as any other.
This particular animal was an exception to all rules; for before we had gone very far we found that he was coming straight toward us. Owing to the nature of the ice, he could not always be seen, but occasionally he would stand up and take his bearings, when we could see each other. I was an active youth, George was a heavy man in excellent condition, and if it came to running, he would have had no chance with me, and no sensible bear would pass him to pursue me.
Realizing these things, I had no misgivings, so knelt down and put out a box of ten cartridges. The har-pooner, seeing my preparations, said: "For God's sake, don't shoot." He had had experiences with wounded bears before, which he did not wish to repeat. It seemed to me, however, that, between the two of us, we had things our own way as we had had such splendid practice at seals a short time before and our hands were in, so, when bruin stood up to have a look at us, less than a hundred yards away, I fired and hit him in the head.
I was intensely pleased as it was my first bear and also the first seen that year by any of the ships.
We had, as spectators, the entire crew, as the ship was not far away and every one on board was watching. A bear is considered lucky, considerable trouble being taken to pick one up. As they looked very yellow in the white ice, they were easily seen. Curiosity, no doubt, drew this one to us, as we were kneeling down and not moving when he stood up to look. Had we moved, he would probably have gone away. I kept the skull, the entire occipital portion of which was shattered, although the skin wound was small, as the copper-nosed bullets only expanded well on striking something hard.
The boat came back for us and, after skinning the prize, we went on board. As there was much heavy ice to the west, we steamed back towards Disco, and a lead, opening to the north, later in the day, gave us a chance of going a few miles in the right direction.
May 21st. Wednesday. We had come rather close to the land by morning and were off Disco Fiord. There was very heavy ice coming down and numbers of bergs about, so navigation was exceedingly difficult and dangerous, and we made little or no progress until noon, when the ice slackened and let us go ahead, the wind blowing from the north and loosening it. In the evening it was very cold, with snow squalls.
I got an ivory gull this day (P. Eburnea) and also a glaucous gull (Larus Glaucus). The ivory gull positively looked like ivory as it stood on the ice, and the glaucous gull, with its great spread of snow-white wings, was beautiful.
We were sorry that the ship did not stop at Godhaven, or Lieveley, as it was generally called, because of its importance as a point of departure for expeditions. They generally obtained dogs there, and whalers, for a century and more, had made it a port to call, but this was a race for the north and no time was to be wasted. We managed to work on our course all afternoon and during the night, as the wind had slackened the ice.
May 22nd. Thursday. During the night, the ship had made considerable progress, so at noon we were off Hare Island. After tea, we were hooked on in a pool of water for several hours. I took my gun and went out for a stroll, killing a number of little auks (Alca Allé or Roach) and a Richardson's skua. These latter were called, by the sailors, boatswain birds, because of the long feathers in the tail, resembling a marlinspike.
As at this time we had the sun night and day, it made me exceedingly restless. About ten P. M. we were fast again, so, taking my gun, I shot some black guillemot (U. Grylle), these birds being very numerous. I returned to the ship about midnight, when it was blowing rather hard.
May 23rd. Friday. The wind had died down by morning and the day was beautiful. We were off Nugsuak Peninsula. There were many tremendous bergs about and the floe was heavy. In the dim distance we saw a ship and made our way towards her. To the east of us was the entrance to Hmanak Fiord, one of the largest on the west coast of Greenland. From where we were, all fiords looked alike, and it was impossible to tell islands from mainland. It resembled a sea of ice out of which protruded rocks and hills, which, excepting on the steep places, were covered with snow.
Black guillemot and little auks were everywhere in thousands, and it was pretty to see rows of the latter along the ice edge. They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the water, and were very indifferent to our presence.
By night we had made little progress and the new ship was still far away. We had been about with the whalers enough by this time to recognize any of them a long way off by their rigging, smoke or funnel, so, long before we reached this new vessel, we recognized that she was a stranger, and she turned out to be the Cornwallis. When we left Dundee, she was outfitting for the Greenland fishing, that is, for the voyage we ourselves originally intended taking, after leaving Newfoundland.
The high price of whalebone, however, had induced her owners to send her to Davis Straits instead. By tea time we were hooked on within a quarter of a mile of her, and after that meal the Captain sent me on board to see whether there was any mail for our ship. Climbing on board, I was amazed to find my friend Armitage there, with a yellow beard and sea boots; I would not have recognized him. He was greatly surprised to see me because he believed that I had gone from Newfoundland to the Jan Mayen fishing, not knowing of our altered arrangements. The Cornwallis was an old barque, formerly in the South American trade. She had had engines put in, and been fortified for Arctic ice. After I sailed from Dundee, Armitage, in going around the docks, saw her. He went on board and, finding Captain Nicol, arranged to sail with him later in the year.
Sending back to the Aurora mail and papers, also some fresh mutton, which had been sent out to us, I remained on the Cornwallis and heard the news. I saw her peculiar and useless engines. Captain Nicol said they spoilt her for sailing and she steamed badly.
May 24th. Saturday. It was a beautiful Arctic day when I came on deck before breakfast. Ahead of us, the world was white, not a break to be seen anywhere, astern some open water. The Cornwallis was lying on our port side a few hundred yards away, so that about eleven I went on board, and, with Armitage, started off to look for something to shoot, among the hummocks, three or four miles north of where we lay. We spent hours tramping over the ice, but did not see a track, so we returned to our ships about six P. M. This hummock belt extended east and west and had been caused by the rafting of great floes. It was quite smooth from the ship to the hummocks and also on the other side of them. Half a mile beyond the ridge, however, there was a great berg which appeared to be aground.
When I returned on board the Aurora, the Captain told me to go below and have my tea and then to go with the mate back to where I had been, because he had seen a bear close to us all the time we were there. It certainly was curious that neither of us had seen him or his tracks. When we were about a mile away from the ships, I saw Armitage hurrying after us. I was anxious to wait for him, but the mate insisted on pushing on, as it would be a fearfully unlucky thing for a member of another crew to shoot a bear first seen by us. After a little, we reached a crack in the ice, about two feet wide, so we stepped across and hurried on. Armitage, coming up shortly after, was unable to cross as the crack was then eight or ten feet wide and extended indefinitely in each direction. So the situation righted itself, and my friend returned to the ship while the mate and I kept on to where the bear had been seen and there we found tracks in abundance, but no bear. After an hour's searching, we were returning to the ship when we saw her jib hauled up as a signal for us to go ahead again, the game having been spotted by the lookout in the crow's nest. Returning to the hummocks, we saw the bear strolling from behind the berg beyond. He was coming straight towards us, so we got down behind the rafted ice and awaited his approach. It was decided that I should have the first shot as the mate had killed so many. I allowed the bear to get about a hundred and fifty yards away before firing, and then put a bullet into him. I don't know where it hit, but he came down, to be up again at once and to keep on coming. The mate fired and down he went again, and we kept it up until the bear was hit many times. Sometimes he fell, sometimes he bit at the place, and by the time he reached the ridge he was very lame and badly shot up. He had gone some distance to the west of us, so I stood up on a slab of ice and finished him, as we thought, by putting a bullet in his shoulder and dropping him in his tracks. We hurried up our side of the ridge until we arrived at where he was. Then, climbing over, I was surprised to find him sitting up. This time my bullet finished him. Our shooting was nothing to be proud of, and went to show how careful one should be with bears, because if not hit right, they take a lot of lead. This was about the only one of those killed that took more than one or, at the most, two shots.
As neither of us had a hunting knife, we had a long job skinning him with pocket knives. Then we started for the ship, towing the skin, but when we reached the crack in the ice, it had opened about twenty-five yards, so we were fairly caught. The mate, with his usual ingenuity, loosened a pan of ice, and on this we crossed, using the butts of our rifles as paddles. Arriving at the other side, we were met by two sailors, sent from the ship, as we were being watched from the barrel, and they took the bear skin in charge while we made our way on board. As it was late, we retired as soon as we had had something to eat.
May 25th.. Sunday. In the morning, Armitage came on board and saw the bear skin. He had never seen a polar bear on the ice, so was very much disappointed that he had not been with us.
Both ships unhooked about ten A. M. and stood north through a lead. We moved along fairly well and by evening were hooked on close to each other in a hole of water with a good ice edge.
The Bear and Triune were now in sight, the latter having come from Dundee direct. We were off Svartin Huk, a great peninsula, but I only knew this by consulting the chart glued to the cabin table.
The Cornwallis was the "lame duck" of the fleet. Steaming in open water, she had not more than half our speed, and in heavy ice she could do little, as her power was so weak. Of course, she could wriggle her way around floes and along tortuous leads fairly well, especially if some of the better ships had just been through ahead of her and broken the trail. The Cornwallis was the only one of the ships coming direct from Dundee which carried a surgeon, but there were three on the Newfoundland fleet.
May 26th. Monday. We both moved a few miles north this day, but the ice was very heavy and the conditions for advance unfavorable. Some distance astern, we saw the Bear, but she was not making much headway and we all three were tied up by noon.
A ship, when anchored to a floe, has her bows against it and a cable out to an ice anchor on one bow or on both, according to the weather. From the jib-boom a rope ladder always hangs, so that one can easily get on to or leave the floe. There is generally a man on the ladder when the ship approaches the ice, and as she touches, he drops off! and, with an ice drill, makes a hold for the ice anchor.
Bringing Armitage, we went to a crack up which looms were flying, and had a pleasant afternoon shooting them. They were fast-flying birds, and the knowledge of the fact that they would not be wasted gave zest to our sport. Shooting guillemot rising off the water would not be much fun, but picking off single birds as they passed was good practice.
The looms we saw in such thousands were, I believe, Uria Brunichii.
The ships were tied up when I turned in.
May 27th. Tuesday. The ice was slack, so we kept in a northerly direction, making good headway. We left the Cornwallis and, following a good lead, passed the Narwhal, which had been the leading ship for some days.
During the evening, the Bear came after us, but we were able to keep ahead. Captain Fair-weather decided to give Upernivik a wide berth, as he once had had an unpleasant experience with the rocks of that charming Greenland summer resort, so we kept going north all night.
There was a wonderful amount of life on board a whaler, on account of the crew being so large. In the 'tween-decks, one generally found a number of men at work, picking oakum, spinning rope yarn, or other yarns, and weaving sennet. The carpenter and his assistant were found at work in one place, the cooper busy in another, while the sailmaker sat and sewed. On the deck, in some sheltered corner, one found the blacksmith at work, and there were always jobs being done in the engine room. But it was easy work, none of the dog's life one saw on other ships.
There are said to be runic monuments in the vicinity of Upernivik, and one on Woman's Island is said to bear the date of 1135. The early travellers, who are supposed to be responsible for these records, are also said to have visited Lancaster Sound.
When one considers that Baffin circumnavigated the bay which bears his name, in 1616, in a craft of fifty-five tons, and when one examines a Viking ship of a thousand years ago and finds it a substantial clinker built boat, a hundred feet long with fine beam, one sees no reason why a twelfth century vessel could not make her way to Lancaster Sound.
May 28th. Wednesday. We had a day racing with the Bear. She managed to pass us just before we reached Browns Island, and hooked on to the floe some distance from us. After a little, the Narwhal joined us, and later the Cornwallis. Armitage and I went off in our dingey and had a few pleasant hours shooting looms. We shot a lot of them, which were divided between the two ships. It took me some time to overcome a prejudice and to become accustomed to seeing looms on the table in any shape or form, but they were really much better than any ducks we killed, because they were not at all fishy and our cook understood about skinning them. They tasted rather like roast hare.
During the afternoon, the weather was thick and it was snowing. The coast of Greenland, at this point, was fringed by hundreds of islands of all sizes and shapes. They were everywhere and some had names while others had not. One navigated there by rule of thumb, only moving when landmarks could be seen, and avoiding visible dangers. Occasionally, something one did not see, destroyed the ship, as there were hundreds of uncharted rocks. In approaching a settlement, a native generally came on hoard and pointed out the way, but the coast was a dangerous one and the ships only kept close to it in order that they might avoid the terrible middle pack.
May 29th. Thursday. We were bumping along towards the west when I came on deck, as the ice looked slacker in that direction, but we had to return shortly after breakfast and, after thrashing around for most of the morning, we managed to strike a good lead and gain a few miles. There was no shooting, as the ship did not stop.
The Cornwallis kept near us all day, and the Narwhal was not far away. As we were now on the edge of the notorious Melville Bay, it became interesting. Greely's famous thirty-six hour passage was not going to be repeated by us, that was evident. I recalled Cheynes' account of its dangers, but we were so comfortable on board the Aurora, and meals were served with such regularity, that it was only possible to realize the danger by watching floes crunch into each other as they were pressed together by irresistible forces. We hooked on at night with little in sight but floes and bergs.
It is a wonderful thing to see a berg ploughing its way through a frozen sea, slowly but surely, overcoming all obstacles, provided, always, that the water was deep enough to keep its mighty base from grounding. On this day there were dozens in sight. They were in every direction and one could easily understand the hopelessness of a sailing ship's position, beset in these waters, with a gale driving bergs down upon her.
May 30th. Friday. We were lying, hooked on to the floe, in the forenoon, when I looked over the side and saw a beautiful male King eider duck (S. Spectabilis) sitting on the water within ten feet of the Captain's port. The Captain was in bed, as he had been in the crow's nest for days, nearly all the time. His port was open and I did not want to wake him, so, taking a gun, I went on the ice and, firing from there, killed the bird without the report being heard in the cabin, and the dog, Jock, went out and brought the bird in. It was the first King eider I had shot and it looked beautiful in its spring plumage. The striking thing about the bird was the enormous frontal processes bulging high above the bill and brightly colored. These were soft and shrank rapidly as they dried, losing their color. The plumage was a mixture of black, white, pearl gray and sea green, making a gorgeous whole. The first bird one sees of a beautiful species always excites more admiration than the others, and so I was delighted with this and carefully skinned it.
The evening made no change in the conditions and we remained fast all night.
May 31st. Saturday. All the ships were stuck in the morning. The Cornwallis and Narwhal were some distance astern, the Arctic near the shore, the Nova Zembla and Polynia close together to the west of us. There were an immense number of bergs, some of them, no doubt, aground, as there were many islands and rocks. We were lying off Tassuisak, a not very populous place, and I was in hope that some natives, seeing the ships, would come off.
During the afternoon, we got under way and poked about without moving much further north. When we were crossing any open places, the ship steamed very slowly and a man was kept forward, on the lookout for submerged rocks.