CHAPTER XVII—LANCASTER SOUND TO DUNDEE
"To claim the Arctic came the sun,
With banners of the burning zone
Unrolled upon their airy spars.
They froze beneath the light of stars,
And there they float, those streamers old,
Those Northern Lights, forever cold."
The neighborhood of Cape Byam Martin was considered good whaling ground, so we spent the next few days cruising off it and the coast further down, but without seeing anything of interest. Even seals were scarce. It was remarkable how few we saw north of the Arctic circle.
By going aloft, one could always see, in some direction on the ice, a black dot, which represented a seal, but after the tens of thousands seen on the coasts of Newfoundland and Labrador, they were scarce indeed; in fact, I never shot one during the whole northern trip.
We found Ponds Bay that paradise of the old whalers so full of ice that we were unable to visit the natives, which was a great disappointment to us all. It was a bad year for seeing much of the land as there was so much ice coming down.
From the ship, the line of the shore looked straight, except off the bay, but there were great fiords running into the land for miles. One of them, known as "Hell's Kitchen," had been a noted place for whalers. Two branches of it, named respectively, "Morris" and "Cooney" extended far into the country, one of them having been navigated by Captain Guy for about forty miles.
Ponds Bay was a celebrated place for salmon fishing, the whalers often getting wonderful catches there, thereby improving their menu greatly. At this time, the weather was very wintry, frost and snow reminding us of where we were, and by the night of Sunday, the 17th, we were only off Cape Bowen.
Monday was a beautiful day and we were fast to the shore floe, a long way from the land. The Captain decided to improve the shining hour by having the ship painted, so the boats were put upon the ice and the men employed, cleaning and painting. The Aurora was comparatively new, so it was very easy cleaning her, as her woodwork was good and she had been well kept up. Even washing her down with the alkaline solution used gave her a nice appearance. By evening, a great deal had been accomplished and inside she looked very neat.
The little auks were numerous about here. One of our firemen killed three with a broom handle and I shot a fine bag. There was a good flight of ducks along the floe edge and I had several shots at them. As the birds were young, they were worth having, being free from the fishy flavor peculiar to their parents.
August 19th. We finished painting the boats, but left them on the ice, excepting two from which the lines had not been removed.
Our fishing, so far, had nearly all been floe edge. We had not entered the middle pack very far, where the whales were sometimes numerous at this season. The enormous amount of ice made the Captain think twice about pushing his ship, with her valuable cargo, into it, and so we kept quietly down the coast, occasionally going out a little where the ice was loose, but remembering Sir Leopold McClintock's winter in the middle pack with the Fox.
The southwest fishing, to which we were now going, was generally prosecuted in the autumn. The ships lay at anchor in some harbor, and every morning the boats rowed out and watched for whales. It was cold, dreary work and very unpopular with the men; but whales killed late in the season were often large and well worth looking for.
August 20th. Wednesday. The boats were hoisted up this day and, with the Captain, I went on the ice to look at the ship. It was cold and I had on half-boots, a thick double-breasted monkey jacket, with leather gauntlets and a leather sealing cap. We walked to where the painting had been done and there admired the ship. She looked well, sitting rather down by the stern. All the crew, practically, had been standing on this ice for the last two days and nothing had happened: I went rather close to the edge and the piece I was standing on gave way and I went down at once, but on coming up, with one or two strokes, reached the ice edge. It took some seconds for my clothes to soak as I had so much on, and by that time, one of the men, Jock Fairly, came with a boat hook, by the help of which I was pulled out. My clothes were so completely water-logged that, without assistance, getting out would have been impossible. Again the gentle warmth of the top of the boiler proved a comfort.
August 21st. Thursday. Hooked on, with a stiff breeze blowing and the sky overcast. Ducks were flying in great numbers past a point half a mile away, so, taking the dingey, I went off to it. There was no shelter and, although every bird must have seen me, the silly things would not leave the ice edge, but would just swing out far enough to make my shots effective. This shooting both barrels into the "brown," as the ducks passed, was not so much fun as getting them in pairs, but one soon picks up a good bag, and as I was shooting for the pot, a bag was what I wanted. When I came on board, the birds were tied in bundles and hung up on the davit guys above the quarter boats.
August 22nd. During the afternoon, a bear was seen, so we went off in a boat to capture it. As there was no solid ice, the beast had to get out of and into the water so many times that he could not escape, and he was killed from the boat by the mate. I landed and tried to stalk him, but he left my pan and I could not follow him.
Two ships were in sight southeast of us. One of them was the Cornwallis, which we had not seen for some time. I was anxious to get near her as Armitage was on hoard, but she was a long way off. We always knew the other, the Esquimaux, by her mizzentop, as she had once been a full-rigged ship, although now a barque.
On Saturday, the wind blew a gale, which kept us dodging under the canvas; but by Sunday the weather had improved.
During the morning we sailed up to the shore floe, as we saw some natives there, and picked them up. They had tusks and dog skins for trade. We took them, with their dogs and sledges, on board. One of them was a good-looking, pleasant native, called Enu. He added greatly to my Eskimo vocabulary during the next few days, and he told me that deer were plentiful in certain places and that salmon abounded. We steamed south all day, after picking up the natives, the weather being cold but fine.
August 25th. Monday. Steaming down the coast and the weather quite fine. During the afternoon, a black spot inshore indicated the mouth of a river. The shore floe at this point was a mile wide, but the ice was smooth. A boat and the dingey with a net and ten men were sent to try to catch some salmon. A number of men were sent to haul the boats across the floe to the open water of the river mouth, and the natives came also. Mr. Adam took the boat and I took the dingey. We had a boat's sail, plenty of coal, two ship's kettles, coffee, sugar, salt, biscuits and tins of mutton. Arriving at the open water, our helpers returned to the ship, and the natives, after turning their sleds upside down, so that the dogs could not run away with them, came with us in the boats. We rowed into a river, which was about thirty or forty yards wide at the mouth, shallow and placid. We went up a short distance and camped on the right bank. Above our camp, the river was a nice-looking little salmon stream; but below, it was more pretentious looking on account of its width. The net was drawn, with no result. It was tried in another place without getting a fin. Then, as it was growing late, we returned to camp. Tying two oars together, with their blades crossed, we laid the end of the long steering oar between these and this gave us an excellent frame for our tent, completed by throwing the large square boat's sail over it and tucking two of the corners underneath. Then a fine coal fire was started, a kettle of coffee made, and an excellent hash prepared, by mixing tinned mutton, sea biscuits, snow, pepper and salt. We enjoyed this thoroughly and I sat by the camp fire afterwards and listened to these men tell tales of happenings in former years. Thus, on the unhospitable shores of Baffin Bay, I had my first experience of camp life. After awhile I noticed that in spite of my clothing, my back was cold, so I turned it to the fire. Then my face was nearly frozen, so I turned back. In the excitement of starting, I had thrown a rug into the boat and not thought of blankets. Now I began to wish I had brought some, for I spent a miserable night, waking up very often with the cold.
August 26th. At last the tedious night came to an end, and breakfast thawed us out and made things look more cheerful. The day was fine, so the Aurora was safe, and preparations were made for further fishing. Had the morning looked threatening, the ship would probably have signalled us to come on board. I am a keen fisherman, but the net did not appeal to me very much; so I decided to see what the country looked like and, taking Enu with me, went up the river. The bitterly cold night had caused some ice, so the men waited for a higher sun to dissipate this before we left camp. I found the country flat, as a whole, with low hills in the background. The native gave me to understand that beyond these hills was the caribou country, but one dared not risk going far from the ship, and so my chance of bagging a barren land head was small. Little gulches led away from the river, on the exposed sides of which there was no snow, but boggy ground and bad walking; while on the shady sides the ground was frozen and covered with patches of snow. I saw some places on the river which made me long to try the fly, and I am sure good sport could have been obtained. After a very tiresome walk of some hours, during which I did not see a bird or beast, I returned to camp. On coming close, I saw a man walking from the river with a salmon in each hand, the first two caught. They had tried a number of places and had caught only these, so they sent them to camp for dinner. One was put in a big ship's kettle to boil, and the other split and cut into pieces which were hung around the fire on stakes made from driftwood. Each salmon weighed about ten pounds, the flesh being very red, and while they did not compare with those from home rivers, we considered them excellent, as they were the first fresh fish we had had on the voyage. Leaving camp, I went down to the boat and found they had just taken a splendid haul; the net was shot several times and a grand total of 108 fish counted out. Dinner was ready when we reached the fire and some more fish were staked out to cook.
This delicate repast over, our things were carried down to the boats and we made our way back as we had come. Seeing us from the ship, help had been sent to bring the boats across the ice.
Many of the whalers fish for salmon every year and sometimes catch great numbers. The best place is, as stated before, a river flowing into Ponds Bay. Here several thousands are often taken.
The Eskimo dogs had eaten their harness and gone away, excepting two lame fellows, and the natives made these pull them to the ship.
August 27th. Wednesday. Enu, with his menage, left for home, and after breakfast we unhooked, and stood along the floe edge. From the "crow's nest" I saw with the glass a number of Eskimo sledges travelling north. They made no attempt to come near us, but kept close to the shore. At noon we were going among some loose ice, so hooked on. I had a very pleasant afternoon at the ducks and secured a good bag. All the birds killed were young eider. In fact, on the voyage, I only killed three varieties of duck, eider, king eider and long tail.
August 28th. Thursday. Two sledges with natives came off. There was a very hungry woman with them. I saw her picking at everything soft on board. She found the side of a box in which plug tobacco had been packed, and picked it up; there were some leaves of tobacco adhering to it. I saw her picking pieces of them and eating them.
Dividing the 'tween-decks from the lower forecastle, there was a partition with a door. Just outside of this door stood a barrel into which the cook threw refuse from the gallery, which was just within the forecastle. I saw this polar American beauty put her arm into the barrel and bring forth a duck's skin, which had a tremendous coating of fat. She seized the skin with both hands and pulled the fat off with her teeth, devouring it greedily. When she came to the neck, she chewed it, bones and all. There were some most interesting children on board and they thoroughly enjoyed the coffee and biscuit with which they were supplied by the Captain's orders. We got some dog skins and small articles from these people, but they had already been visited by some of the ships and their bear skins and horns taken.
August 29th. On Friday the natives left us early. We unhooked and sailed east, with a breeze from the south. We saw a bear and cub on the ice, so lowered away and went after them. Both took to the water, and we had to go around a large island of ice before we could reach them. I landed on this, and running across, tried a shot at them in the water, but they had gone too far and were behind hummocks of ice, so that I could not see them. The boat then overtook them and the mate shot both. As nothing more was seen among the loose ice we steamed to the floe edge and hooked on. I bagged a few ducks in the evening.
August 30th. Saturday. We steamed down the coast and hooked on off Cape Raper. Two natives came on board, and we bought a live fox from one of them. It was young and blue, and spent the rest of the voyage walking about the funnel casing, where its home was in a lime-juice box. The natives left during the afternoon and we remained at the floe edge all night.
It was a beautiful calm Sunday and the last day of August on which we arrived at Cape Kater. The Cornwallis very soon afterwards came in and I went on board at once.
They had had a most unsuccessful voyage as the ship had been spoiled for sailing by having an engine put in which was of no use. They had killed a whale and picked up a dead one, having one ton of bone from the two.
Poor old Captain Nichol was very much depressed. Every one said he was a fine sailor; that his blood was tar and his flesh rope yams. They told us that the other ships had done well, the Nova Zembla having eight, the Polynia six and the Esquimaux ten whales when last seen.
Armitage came on shore with me and we visited some native habitations. They were tents made of skin, and the sun beating on them made them warm inside; but as there was not a particle of ventilation, the odor was the worst possible. We saw in them the stone lamps in which the seal oil was burned, moss being used as a wick; sometimes old tins served the purpose instead of stone.
This country is generally called Baffin Land. There is, however, no reason to believe that it is not divided up by channels into many islands. No doubt passages exist connecting Davis Straits with Fox Channel.
Much of the coast line is uncharted, especially north of Fox Land. Fiords running south from Eclipse Sound have been visited by whalers, but not explored; possibly they could be traced to Fury and Hecla Straits.
Whaling stations have several times been established on the west coast, at Exeter Sound and Cumberland Gulf—the first party wintering at the latter place in 1852, to the detriment of the natives.
These improvident people with modern rifles would kill all the game they could shoot, use what they required at the time and waste the rest, whereas in old times they could just secure enough for their wants.
Again, children were brought up formerly in a hardy way, and taught how to wrest a living from the inhospitable country. Now by loafing around a settlement they acquire some of the pernicious habits of civilized men, and learn to depend upon the European and his ship, forgetting that these might be withdrawn at any time.
Monday was spent wandering about, but without seeing anything of interest. The Cornwallis was still hooked on when we left Cape Kater, on Tuesday. We kept away from the coast to look for a berg from which we might water. The weather was clear and frosty, and at night the aurora borealis was very beautiful.
September 3rd. Wednesday. We found a floe fast to the base of a very large berg, and on this there was a lake of fresh water frozen over. The ship being made fast, a hole was drilled in the ice and our water tanks filled.
On the berg there was a white fox, but no shooting at it was allowed lest the concussion should bring down masses of ice. By evening we moved away and made fast to a floe far from our dangerous neighbor. The cold was intense and bay ice formed around the ship.
I heard the thunder of splitting bergs several times during the night; they sounded like avalanches among the Alps in the springtime. At this season, especially on very cold nights, bergs often split and turn over owing to water freezing in crevices formed by the warm summer sun, and for this reason they are avoided as much as possible. We now spent five days dodging about under canvas with fires banked. Part of the time we were off Cape Hooper and part off Home Bay, but we did not see a single whale.
The weather was for the most part fine, but bitterly cold. If a mist arose at night the ship presented a curious spectacle in the morning, her rigging being coated with ice.
Our handy tradesmen during this period made some pretty things. The carpenter presented the Captain with a neat model of a ship, while the cooper turned out a tobacco box which was a work of art.
September 8th. Monday. We bore up for home. What cheerful news it was! Passage sails were bent, boats taken in and placed on skids, bunkers were coaled and all was life and bustle. Every one was happy. The voyage had been a success, and we had not had a serious accident.
The "crow's nest" was sent down, nautical time adopted and the watch set. To crown all, a fresh breeze sprang up, and with everything set and steaming full speed we started down the Straits.
By bedtime we were in a heavy fog, so the canvas was taken off and the engines slowed down. During the night the phosphorescence was very beautiful. Pieces of ice thrown away by the propeller looked like balls of fire, while the water immediately around the stern seemed all aflame.
For the next two days we had fog, so made little progress at night. During the day the men were employed washing lines and stowing them away. Guns and harpoons were cleaned and greased and the ship was thoroughly washed.
On the 11th, we had a strong gale with a dark and cloudy sky. It was strange to be at sea and feel the motion of the ship after weeks of smooth water amidst the ice. After this the sea was smooth, and we had fog all the time until, off Cape Farewell on the 15th, the day being fine, the ship was hove to and painted outside. A dense fog came down that night, and we did not make another observation until off the Scottish coast.
On Saturday, September 20th, the fog was very dense and we steamed slowly until noon, when it lifted for a short time and showed us the island of St. Kilda. I was sorry we could not land here as it was a wonderful breeding place for the fulmar petrels; but home was in sight, and Captain Fairweather did not want to linger on a rock-bound coast, so we steered north and on Sunday morning, the 21st, we were off the Butt of Lewis.
It was thick at times during the morning, but cleared in the afternoon and gave us a view of the Orkneys. The Captain decided to go north of Orkney, as he did not like the Pentland Firth with so much fog about. At night the weather was perfectly clear.
September 22nd. Monday. On deck in the morning every one was looking pleasant, and the ship neat. We were crossing the Moray Firth and coming close to the Aberdeen coast. A fishing boat from Fraserborough was hailed and an assortment of fish purchased for breakfast. These were paid for with tobacco, and the pay was liberal. The first question asked by us was, "Is England at war?" This being answered in the negative, greatly pleased those of the crew who were naval reserve men. Eight bells struck and my last breakfast on board the Aurora was served. After breakfast we passed Peterhead, formerly a great port for whalers, and then we steamed south close to the coast. The yellow fields of grain and stubble, the cottages and the trees, looked to our snow-dazzled eyes like Fairy Land. We passed Aberdeen and Stonehaven. We were close enough to see Dunottar's grim ruin, then Montrose, and in a short time our pilot was on board with all the news, and we were at home.
Of the Davis Straits ships in 1884 one was lost, the Narwhal; but now, with the exception of the Active and Aurora, the weed-grown ribs of the entire fleet rest beneath the waters of the cold northern seas and the records of their crews' escapes and hardships would fill volumes.