“With one sweep of her tail she knocked the boat to pieces.”—[Page 42.]
But I have not time to give you an account of all the whales we killed. We were unusually successful for the season of the year and that side of the bay. We had now to cross over to the west side, in some of the bays on which coast whales were said to abound. To effect this, we were obliged to pass through the middle ice, a work of great labour and often of danger. The route chosen by our captain was round by the north, across Melville Bay. At first we got on merrily enough, a course of northerly winds having blown the ice to the southward. After a time, however, the favourable wind ceased, and the ice drifting slowly back, we were obliged to commence cutting our way through it. While it moved thus gently, with our ice saws we cut a canal towards the nearest piece of clear water we could see ahead, and towed the ship along it. Then, perhaps, we were able to make sail for an hour or so, once more to find a barrier drawn across our course. Sometimes for a whole day together the crew were sawing and towing, and I heard some of them say that they might have to go on that way for a month. Still they kept their tempers, and worked with a will, in the hopes of getting a full ship at the end. I was awaked, however, one morning, by hearing the captain summoned on deck, and when I followed him there I saw nothing but long faces, and not without good reason. The clouds were flying rapidly overhead from the S.S.W., and the ice was moving along and upheaving in a peculiarly ominous manner. No time was lost in getting out the ice saws to cut a dock into which to tow the ship. This is a work of great labour, but all hands worked with a will, for they well knew that the safety of the ship depended on the speed with which it was accomplished. The ship had just been towed into the dock, when the ice to the southward began to lift and heave more violently than before. I saw the captain, Mr. Grummet, Sandy Dow, and other old hands, looking out anxiously, and I guessed not without good cause. There was a loud rumbling crashing sound, something like thunder, and yet more terrible. Not a single spot of clear water could be seen, but far as the eye could reach towards the south there appeared huge masses of ice rising with their edges uppermost, leaping and overlapping each other, tearing and crushing those below them to pieces. Still on they pressed, mass behind mass, the places of those which rose up in front immediately supplied by others in the rear. The ice surrounding us was in violent commotion. Closer and closer it pressed around. Suddenly, as if pushed towards us by some unseen giant’s hand, a huge floe came gliding on. “A nip, a nip,” cried the crew. Calmly the captain had stood watching the upheaving of the icy sea. He now ordered all hands to bring their bedding and clothes on deck. Some casks of provision had already been got up. These were lowered on to the ice alongside, and rolled to a distance. The crew followed, each man laden with as much as he could carry. Captain Blowhard brought up the rear with his chronometer, compass, sextant, and other nautical instruments and books. He had scarcely got thirty yards from the ship when she was caught between two huge masses of ice, which came sweeping by. Her stout timbers could no more resist the prodigious pressure than could a wicker basket. One moment I looked round, and she stood with her yards and rigging complete; the next, a grinding and crashing sound reached my ears, and when I again looked she was a mass of wreck, her tall masts falling, and her sides literally pressed together till they met.
Part of the floe had gone underneath her, and then rising, had cast up her cargo and stores, scattering them around, with portions of the deck and bulwarks, and the boats. “I never knew anything happen but what it might be worse,” observed Sandy Dow, as he stood looking at the wreck. “There, see what Providence has done for us. Our good ship is lost, there’s no doubt about that; but the provisions, and stores, and boats are saved, and with their help we may yet see our homes again.” These words roused the drooping spirits of our men, few of whom had before seen so complete a wreck as was our good ship the “Grampus.” All hands were immediately set to work to collect the various articles, and to drag them to that part of the ice which appeared most secure.
Scarcely had the mischief been done than the commotion ceased, in consequence of the wind falling, probably to the southward, and also of the strength of the barriers which had been thrown up outside us. Looking north, there appeared to be one unbroken field of ice, while some thirty miles away we could see a lofty cliff, which showed us our position. That distant sight of land, barren and inhospitable as we knew it to be, somewhat cheered our spirits, as we hoped that, should the ice again break up, we might then at all events find firm footing for our feet. We had no lack of materials for building huts or tents, and these having been erected, and fires lighted, the men were ordered to refresh themselves, and take some rest. In a few hours the men were ready for work, when they commenced constructing sleighs on which to drag our stores to the land. Later in the year we should have been safe where we were, but it would at present have been hazardous to remain, lest the ice should move away to the southward, and break up before we could escape from it. Our boats, too, had received so much damage, that they were incapable of conveying us to any of the Danish settlements before they had received a considerable amount of repair. Though the cape looked so near, we found it a very long journey to get there. Most of the crew made three trips before all the articles we required were conveyed to the spot which had been fixed on for our encampment. We still entertained the hope that other whalers might pass by within sight of the cape, and that we should get on board them. A large quantity of stores and provisions were still left on the ice, which it was supposed we should not require. Week after week, however, passed by, the ice remained firm, and no whaler appeared to take us off. Captain Blowhard began to look very grave. I observed to him that I thought we might make ourselves very comfortable where we were till another season. “You do not know what an arctic winter is, my lad,” he answered. “But it is not that. It is bad enough to lose one’s ship, but I am thinking of those at home who will be mourning us as dead. It is the thought of their grief which makes me sad.” Our good old captain always thought of others more than of himself.
I might spin a very long yarn about all the things that happened to us, but I have not time. The cold of an arctic winter soon began with all its rigour. We had built huts with stones and earth, and parts of the wreck which we had dragged over the ice, but we were very much cramped, and when the cold began in earnest it penetrated into the interior, and we could not keep ourselves warm even with our thick clothing in bed. As soon, however, as the snow fell, the captain ordered ice-huts to be built, the snow serving as mortar. Large slabs of ice were cut out and built up as if they had been blocks of stone, and with them eight huts were formed of the shape of bee-hives. Each hut held from three to five people comfortably. A long passage led to it, with three different slabs, which served as doors; a slab of clear ice was placed on the top to serve as a window. The bed-places were built of snow, covered over thickly with the twigs of a low shrub which grew on the hill side. This, the captain told us, was exactly the fashion of the Esquimaux huts. We had brought several casks of whale’s blubber, and this served us for fuel, and gave us light and warmth; without it we could not have existed. We had a number of shallow metal washhand basins, these were filled with oil, and along one half of the edge of each a row of wicks, made of moss, was arranged; on the opposite side a piece of blubber was hung up, which, as it gradually melted, replenished the basin with oil. This was in imitation of the lamps used by the Esquimaux. One amply warmed each hut. By thus taking a lesson from those we were accustomed to call ignorant savages, we were enabled to exist, and retain our health, when otherwise we must have perished. Our only fear was that the blubber would not hold out till we could make our escape. Our first huts had been built close under the cliff; but, for the convenience of obtaining ice, we had placed those we now occupied at some distance, close to the water, or, rather, where the water would have been had it not been frozen. Our boats, and a good many of our stores, had been left under the cape. One night—now that the winter had begun the night occupied the greater part of the twenty-four hours—we were aroused by a tremendous rushing, thundering sound. I slept in a hut with Mr. Grummet, Sandy Dow, and the youngest mate. They hurriedly put on their clothes and ran out. I followed their example, though I felt almost frozen in an instant by the bitter wind which met us, for a storm was raging. By the twilight which prevails in that region during night, we could see huge pieces of the cliff and masses of snow come tumbling down in quick succession, one after the other. It was a perfect avalanche, and in a few minutes the whole spot where our summer huts had stood, and where our stores and boats now were, was completely overwhelmed. Some of the men even ran away from our present abode, thinking that that also would be overwhelmed, but the captain shouted to them to stand fast, as he was sure that the falling cliff would not reach us, nor did it.
With foreboding hearts we once more hurried back into our huts. Our boats, on which we might have to depend to escape from this inhospitable region, were destroyed; a large portion of the fuel, without which we could not exist, was buried deeply under rocks and snow. As soon as the men had finished taking their necessary rest, and had breakfasted, all hands set off to the scene of the disaster to try and recover some of the stores. On arriving at the spot the task appeared hopeless, so vast was the mass of ruin which covered them. After exploring the ground and digging in various spots, in the hope of finding only snow, we were obliged to return homewards. When Mr. Grummet and I reached our hut, we found that Sandy Dow was not with us. Mr. Grummet asked when I had last seen him. I could not tell, but thought that he must have gone into one of the other huts. We waited dinner for him for some time, but still he did not appear. At last I offered to run round to the other huts and enquire. A snow-storm was raging, and I found it no easy matter to make my way from hut to hut. I did so, however, but no one had seen our friend. When I went to the captain he said that Dow must have certainly remained at the cape, and that a party must set off immediately and try to find him. I smuggled myself in with the party, though the captain was unwilling to let me go, fearing that I might not be able to endure the cold and fatigue. Mr. Grummet led the party, and off we set, thinking that there would be no difficulty in finding the way in spite of the snow-storm. We went on and on, supposing that we should every instant arrive at the cape, and that the snow hid it from our view. Still we did not reach it. At last Mr. Grummet, in a tone of vexation, declared that he had lost his way. The distance was so short, and we had been so accustomed to be guided by the high cape ever in view, that we had come without a compass. The snow came down thicker and thicker, and the prospect of finding our way appeared more and more hopeless. We shouted, thinking that we might possibly after all not be far from the huts, but there was no answer. Mr. Grummet and another officer, who had guns, fired them off, but no report was heard in return. If we remained quiet we might be frozen, for the cold was intense, so we pushed on in the hope that we might before long sight either the huts or the cape. Some of the men proposed that we should halt, build up a snow-hut, and shelter ourselves in it till the snow was over, but to this our leader would not consent. He expressed his belief that the snow might fall for several days, so that we might be completely covered up and unable to work our way out of our hut. Besides, we had come to look for Sandy Dow, and nothing should induce him to give up the search as long as he could move a foot forward. So on we went; every now and then a gun was fired, and we all shouted at the top of our voices. We continued this practice, though with little hope of an answer. We were, therefore, still more surprised when a shout was heard very like ours, and which came from no great distance. Again we shouted, and again there was a reply. Was it only an echo? It was not quite like enough for that. Directly after we heard a bark, and in a few minutes an Esquimaux, with his seal spear in his hand and his dog by his side, stood before us. He saluted us in a friendly manner. To our great satisfaction we found that he could speak a few words of English. He told us that he knew a ship had been lost, and that we were in the neighbourhood, but he did not know exactly where we were located. On our telling him that it was near the cape, he set off in a perfectly opposite direction to that in which we had been going. We explained that we were in search of a lost shipmate, and begged him to help us in our search. To this he at once consented. The snow fell thicker than ever, still our new friend led on with unwavering steps. I felt very sad, for I heard Mr. Grummet say that he scarcely expected to find my friend Sandy alive. An expressive action of the Esquimaux confirmed this opinion. Still we pushed on; at length the cliff appeared before us, and as the snow slackened a little, we could discern a figure seated on a rock and almost bent double, as if to try and avoid the icy blast. That it was Sandy Dow we had little doubt; we hurried towards him; we called his name, but he did not look up. Mr. Grummet and others went up to him and shook him. A low groan was the only sound he uttered. Still that was sufficient to give us hope that he would recover. Mr. Grummet poured a few mouthfuls of brandy down his throat, and then two of the strongest of our party took him between them and hurried him along as fast as they could go. The great thing was to restore circulation. The desired effect was produced, and we had the satisfaction of seeing our friend, under the care of the doctor, himself again. Sandy had stopped behind to explore, when, the snow coming on, he had been prevented reaching the hut, but fortunately found his way back again to the cliff.
“We could discern a figure seated on a rock and almost bent double, as if to try and avoid the icy blast.”—[Page 52.]