Our new friend Upnick told us that he was one of a small party of natives settled for the winter in a bay about ten miles off, and that he was out on an expedition to catch seals when he fell in with us. He was a merry, happy fellow. We wanted him to stop with us, but he replied that he must go back to his family to supply them with blubber and oil for their lamps, and that then he would come back to us. Some of our men agreed to accompany him. When they came back they did not give a very tempting account of the Esquimaux mode of life. Upnick accompanied them. His appearance somewhat raised the spirits of our party, which were getting very low. Our oil was well-nigh expended, and it seemed doubtful whether our provisions would hold out to the spring. It was also a weary time, for though our captain and officers did their best to amuse us, we had but few books, and the weather often kept us for days and days within our huts. Upnick, however, offered to show us how to catch seals, which would give us both food and fuel. He went off some distance from the land, where there was less snow, and his dog hunted about till he found a small hole. To this hole he said the seals came to breathe; he then told our men to sit quiet. They had to wait a long time, till a sound of blowing was heard. Quick as lightning Upnick darted his harpoon down through the hole. The tightened line showed that it had got hold of something; he then began to work away with his ice-knife till he had considerably enlarged the hole, when he drew forth a full-sized seal. He killed three others in the same way, which he and our men dragged to the huts. We gave him some coloured pocket handkerchiefs and a hatchet in return. This afforded, indeed, a seasonable supply of fuel, and we were also very glad of the flesh for food. It was found, however, that though Upnick had showed us how to catch the seals, our men could but ill follow out his lessons. In the first place they had great difficulty in finding the holes, and when found they were not in time to catch the seals, or did not hear them blow, or did not properly direct their harpoons.
We had hung up the seals on spars just outside the huts, that we might chop off as much as we required. We had been for some time asleep one night, when Dow awoke, saying that he heard a peculiar noise outside. He instantly jumped up, and slipping on his clothes, ran out with a harpoon in his hand. He had not been gone long before we heard him shouting for help. Mr. Grummet had been meantime putting on his clothes, and followed with a loaded musket. I slipped out after him, when what was my horror to see Sandy Dow in the embrace of a huge white polar bear! “Fire, fire, or he will squeeze the breath out of me,” he cried out. Not only was the monster squeezing poor Sandy, but he was threatening to take a piece out of his shoulder with his huge jaws. No time was to be lost; Mr. Grummet advanced cautiously and fired close past Sandy’s head down the animal’s mouth. Another man came up the next instant with a whale spear, which he plunged into its side, when the bear, letting go his hold of Sandy, rolled over, and was very soon dead. The creature had been attracted to the place by the seals, of which he had already eaten a large piece. He was welcome to it, considering that his own carcass afforded us many a welcome meal. We carried Sandy into the hut, for he was very much hurt by the bear. “It’s an ill wind that blaws naebody guid,” he observed. “If the bear had na grabbed me, we should have gane without his steaks.”
The supply of fresh meat was very valuable, and restored most of the invalids to health. Still there was the want of blubber for our lamps. Upnick, however, on seeing that we could not catch the seals as well as he did, made a bargain with the captain to act as our hunter. Some of the men by degrees became more expert, and with his help obtained a sufficient supply to keep our lamps burning. One day, however, he told us that he must go away, and, in spite of all the captain’s expostulations, he took his departure with the treasures he had accumulated, and we were left to our own resources. Oftentimes we were reduced to a very sad plight, and to make our oil last longer, we had all to congregate in two or three huts; this increased the heat certainly, but, as there was no means of ventilation, it was far from pleasant. Such was the state of things when Christmas day arrived. Our crew were divided into two parties; our fare was seals’ blubber, and twenty-five of us were seated round one oil lamp in a hut about twelve feet in diameter. We had materials for a plum pudding, but as hot water was too valuable to throw away we had mixed it porridge fashion: Still we tried to make ourselves as merry as circumstances would allow. Now and then one of the party would brave the snow-storm raging outside for the sake of carrying some amusing message to our friends in the other hut, knowing that we should get a facetious answer in return. After this, however, matters grew worse; in vain the best hunters went out to catch seals; not a pint of oil remained, and even inside our huts we could not have existed twenty-four hours without the warmth of the lamp. We talked once more of trying to dig down to our stores, but the crew soon found that their strength was inadequate to the undertaking. And now that Christmas had gone by, that time which we had all expected to pass with our families in comfort and happiness at home, the true horrors of our situation burst on us. The scurvy, that scourge of mariners, broke out, and several of our poor fellows could scarcely move hand or foot. All those who could get out were engaged in seal killing; their success was small, though they procured just sufficient to keep two and sometimes three lamps burning at a time. Week after week and month after month passed by, and we began to fear that we should not escape from our perilous position till late in the summer, when perhaps some whalers might pass within sight of our encampment. How many of us might be alive then was the question. Death had already begun to thin our numbers. One day, Jack and I, who had kept our health better than any of our shipmates, were amusing ourselves at a little distance from the hut, when we saw, approaching, several sleighs drawn by dogs, with an Esquimaux walking before the first to lead the way. We ran into the hut to announce the coming of the strangers, and then ran out again to meet them. The first man was Upnick; the next we took to be an Esquimaux, but a cheery voice in English hailed us, and we soon found that this was an expedition sent expressly for our relief.
Upnick, on leaving us, had travelled south, and at length had fallen in with a whaler, the “Hope,” beset in the ice, but which had received no damage. She was commanded by a cousin and an old friend of our worthy captain. He had satisfied himself from Upnick’s account that the “Grampus” had been lost, and, as soon as he was able to collect some dog-sleighs, he had sent them off under the command of his son, the person who had first hailed us, to our relief; he had not forgotten to send some lime-juice, and potted vegetables, and other anti-scorbutics, which greatly contributed to the restoration to health of the sick. Some of our men without hesitation volunteered to remain where they were till the summer; the rest set out with the captain to join the “Hope,” which, being nearly full, it was expected would return home early in the summer, or as soon as she was released from her icy prison.
We were warmly welcomed on board the “Hope” by Captain Tom Blowhard and his officers and crew, and soon forgot all the toils and dangers we had gone through. Many people might have pitied us having to live on board a whaler frozen up in the ice, but we did not pity ourselves, for, compared to the life we had so long led, we considered that we fared luxuriously. Even, however, when the sun shone brightly and the days grew long we were not free of the ice, and I heard some of the crew remarking that we might possibly remain beset the whole summer through. The captain replied, when he heard of this, that if an inch of water was to be seen within a mile of the ship we would work our way to it. He was as good as his word, and before long the ice-saws were set to work; and, by hard toil, often sawing away for a fortnight, we were once more free of the ice and bounding over the heaving waves on a southerly course. We had still, however, reminders of the northern latitude in which we were sailing, in the shape of icebergs, to avoid which, during the night, we had to keep a very bright look out. One afternoon, dinner just being over when I went on deck, a very fine one, on which the sun shone brightly, appeared right ahead. As I stood watching it, the top appeared to be bending forward; so it was, there it came, the whole mountain mass collapsing in the most extraordinary manner, till a few fragments alone appeared above the waters to show where it had been. It was fortunate that we were not close under it, or we might have been overwhelmed by the ruins.
This was the last among the many providential escapes for which I had to be thankful during my trip to the North Pole. Three weeks afterwards, we were gladdening the hearts of our relatives and friends in Hull, and sending some of the more sensitive into hysterics in consequence of our sudden re-appearance after they had so long given us up as lost. Terrible as were our sufferings at times, now that they were over I could look back at my adventures with pleasure, and never grew weary of benefiting my friends with the yarn which I have just spun for your amusement.
