It was a terrible night. The wind blew a hurricane, and the snow fell heavily in drifting, whirling masses. “We did not know,” says Tyson, “who was on the ice, or who was on the ship;” but seeing some musk-ox skins lying across a wide crack in the ice, he pulled them towards him to save them—and behold, rolled up in one of them were two or three of the children of Hans the Eskimo! Some of the men were afloat on small pieces of ice, but by means of the whale-boat these were rescued; and when the gray light of morning dawned on the scene, Tyson ascertained that eighteen persons, besides himself, were castaways. These were—Mr. Meyers, meteorologist; Heron, steward; Jackson, cook; six seamen; Joe and Hans, the Eskimos, and their wives and children.
The piece of the floe on which they were cast was nearly circular, and about four miles in circumference. It was not level, but full of hillocks, and of ponds or small lakes, which had been formed by the melting of the ice during the short summer. The ice varied greatly in thickness. Some of the mounds, or hills, were probably thirty feet thick; the flat parts not more than ten or fifteen. The surface was exceedingly rugged, and the hummocks were white with snow.
Tyson’s first task was to inspect the stock of provisions that had been collected on the floe. It consisted of fourteen cans of pemmican, eleven and a half bags of bread, one can of dried apples, and fourteen hams; and if the ship did not return for them, they might have to support themselves upon this supply all through the dreary winter, or die of starvation. Fortunately, they had a couple of boats; and Tyson’s second care was to load these, embark his little company, and endeavour to reach the shore. In this attempt they were balked by the drifting ice; and before they could repeat it they caught sight of the Polaris. Immediately they ran up a rough and ready signal; but no one seemed to be keeping a look-out, and the castaways had the mortification of seeing her drop away behind Littleton Island, without undertaking any search for her missing crew.
Tyson therefore resolved to cross to the other side of the floe, and make for the land, perhaps lower down than the Polaris was, so as to intercept her. Everything was thrown away, except two or three days’ provisions, and the boats were got ready. But the men were slow and reluctant; oars were wanting; a violent gale arose; and as night was coming on, Tyson found himself compelled to abandon his intention. On the following day, the ice again broke; and now the adventurers were drifting with one boat on one piece of ice, while the other boat, a part of their provisions, and an extemporized hut of poles, remained on the main part of the original floe. The ice-raft which carried Tyson and his companions measured about 150 yards each way.
THE CASTAWAYS ON THE ICE.
ADRIFT ON THE ICE-FLOE.
On the 21st, however, the boat and provisions were recovered. Joe, with the keen eye of an Eskimo, caught sight of the bow of the boat, projecting from a fragment of the broken ice. Followed by his faithful ally, Tyson went in search of it, leaping like a chamois-hunter from crag to crag. Six of the dogs had accompanied him. These were harnessed to the boat, and with the help of sturdy arms dragged it over the disrupted floe. The whole party then removed to the large floe, where some snow-houses were speedily erected. They formed quite an encampment: one hut, or rather a sort of half-hut, for Mr. Meyers and Captain Tyson; Joe’s hut for himself, his wife, and their adopted daughter; a hut for the men; a store-house for provisions, and a cook-house,—all united by arched galleries, built of consolidated snow, with one main entrance, and smaller ones branching off to the several apartments or huts. Hans built his igloë separately, but close by. All were constructed after the Eskimo fashion—that is, the ground being levelled off, one half of the floor toward the end furthest from the entrance was slightly raised above the other or front half. The raised part, as we have previously explained, serves as parlour and bedroom; the lower area, as workshop and kitchen. The walls and arched roof were built up of square blocks of hard snow, packed hard and close by the force of the wind. A square of about eighteen inches of this compressed snow or ice served for window.
This good work done, Tyson took stock. Successive expeditions had gathered together nearly all that was on the ice when the Polaris drifted from them, and he found that their stores included two boats—one of which, however, was being broken up for fuel—and one kayack, a good supply of powder and shot, eleven and a half bags of bread, fourteen cans of pemmican, fourteen hams, ten dozen cans of meats and soups, one can of dried apples, and about twenty pounds of chocolate and sugar mixed. The pemmican cases were large, each weighing forty-five pounds; the meats and soups were only one and two pound cans; the hams were small; the dried-apple can counted for twenty-two pounds. Evidently, when divided among nineteen people, this supply could not last many weeks; and unless they reached the land, or could catch seals, starvation seemed their probable ultimate fate. The allowance was reduced to eleven ounces for each adult, and half that amount for the children,—rations painfully inadequate to the proper support of the human frame in a Polar region and during an Arctic winter.