In 1822, a French captain, named Duperrey, made a voyage, under the orders of the Government, which is in many respects the most remarkable on record. He sailed seventy-five thousand miles in thirty-one months, without losing a man or having a single name upon the sick-list; nor did the ship once need repairs. The discoveries made were not important, but the surveys effected and the observations upon terrestrial magnetism recorded were interesting and valuable.
At about this period, the perils incident to the whale-fishery were strangely augmented by a circumstance which we cannot forbear mentioning. The whale, whose intellectual faculties had been sharpened by the warfare waged against him for two hundred years, was suddenly found to be animated by a new and vehement passion,—that of revenge. "Mocha Dick," who earned a terrible reputation for ferocity, only succumbed after many years of successful resistance. His body proved to be covered with scars, his flesh bristled with harpoons, and his head was declared to be wonderfully expressive of "old age, cunning, and rapacity." Not long after this, a sperm-whale was wounded by a boat's crew from the Essex. A brother leviathan, eighty-five feet long, approached the ship within twenty rods, eyed it steadfastly for a moment, and then withdrew, as if satisfied with his observations. He soon returned at full speed: he struck the ship with his head, throwing the men flat upon their faces. Gnashing his jaws together as if wild with rage, he made another onset, and, with every appearance of an avenger of his race, stove in the vessel's bows! This was the first example on record of the whale's displaying positive design in seeking an encounter. He certainly acted from the promptings of revenge, and, moreover, directed his attacks upon the weakest part of the ship.
THE WHALE OF CAPTAIN DEBLOIS.
The whale of Captain Deblois, of the ship Ann Alexander, was a still more remarkable animal. When harpooned, instead of seeking to escape, he turned upon the boat, and, in the language of an eye-witness, "chawed it to flinders." The second boat met the same fate. The whale then dashed upon the ship, and broke through her timbers, letting the water in in torrents. In an hour the vessel lay a wreck upon the ocean. Four months afterwards, the crew of the Rebecca Sims captured a whale of large size but of enfeebled energies. He was found to have a damaged head, with large fragments of a ship's fore-timbers buried in his flesh; while two harpoons, sunk almost to his vitals, and labelled "Ann Alexander," designated him as the fierce but now exhausted antagonist of Captain Deblois, of New Bedford.
In 1827—to return to the Arctic explorations—a new idea was broached with reference to the Pole and the most likely method of reaching it. Captain Parry, despairing of getting there in ships, conceived the plan of constructing boats with runners, which might be dragged upon the ice, or, in case of need, be rowed through the water. The Government approved of the idea, and two boats were specially constructed for the service: each one, with its furniture and stores, weighed three thousand seven hundred and fifty-three pounds. They were placed on board the sloop-of-war Hecla; and the expedition left the Nore on the 4th of April, 1827, for Spitzbergen. At Hammersfeld, in Norway, they took on board eight reindeer and a quantity of moss for their fodder.
After experiencing a series of tremendous gales, being beset in the ice till the 8th of June, the Hecla was safely anchored on the northern coast of Spitzbergen, in Hecla Cove. Parry gave his instructions to his lieutenants, Foster and Crozier, and on the 22d left the ship in the two boats, having named them the Enterprise and Endeavor, with provisions for seventy-one days. The ice appeared so rugged that the reindeer promised to be of little assistance, and were consequently left behind. The following is an abridged account of the extraordinary method of travelling adopted upon this singular voyage:
"It was my intention," says Parry, "to travel by night and rest by day, thus avoiding the glare resulting from the sun shining from his highest altitudes upon the snow; and proceeding during the milder light shed during his vicinity to the horizon,—for of course, during the summer, he never set at all. This practice so completely inverted the natural order of things that the officers, though possessing chronometers, did not know night from day. When we rose in the evening, we commenced our day by prayers; after which we took off our raccoon-skin sleeping-dresses, and put on our box-cloth travelling-suits. We breakfasted upon warm cocoa heated with spirits of wine—our only fuel—and biscuit: we then travelled five hours, and stopped to dine, and again travelled four, five, or six hours, according to circumstances. It then being early in the morning, we halted for the night, selecting the largest surface of ice we happened to be near for hauling the boat on. Every man then put on dry stockings and fur boots, leaving the wet ones—which were rarely found dry in the morning—to be resumed after their slumbers. After supper the officers and men smoked their pipes, which served to dry the boat and awnings, and often raised the temperature ten degrees. A watch was set to look out for bears, each man alternately doing this duty for one hour. It now being bright day, the evening was ushered in with prayers. After seven hours' sleep, the man appointed to boil the cocoa blew a reveillé upon the bugle, and thus at nightfall the day was recommenced."