“Yesterday we set to work as usual to warp the ship along, and moved her ten feet. An insignificant hummock then blocked up the narrow passage. As we could not push it before us, a two-pound blasting charge was exploded, and the surface ice was shattered; but such an immense quantity of broken ice came up from beneath that the difficulty was greatly increased instead of being removed. This is one of the many instances in which our small vessel labours under very great disadvantages in ice navigation; we have neither sufficient manual power, steam power, nor impetus to force the floes asunder. I am convinced that a steamer of moderate size and power, with a crew of forty or fifty men, would have got through a hundred miles of such ice in less time than we have been beset.”
And so it went on from day to day, M’Clintock knowing that it was fast becoming hopeless to expect a release, but, nevertheless, keeping his men well employed in preparations for wintering and sledge-travelling. Every now and then a “lane” of water opening in the ice would mock their hopes. On one occasion such an opening appeared within 170 yards of the vessel, and by the aid of steam and blasting powder they advanced 100 yards towards it, when the floes again closed up tightly, and they had their trouble for their pains. Numerous large icebergs were around them. Allen Young examined one, which was 250 feet high, and aground in 83 fathoms (498 feet) of water. In other words, the enormous mass was nearly 750 feet from top to bottom. The reader can judge of such dimensions by comparison: St. Paul’s is only 370 feet in height. The looser ice drifting past this berg was crushed, and piled up against its sides to a height of fifty feet.
Meantime they were very successful in the hunt. Seals were caught in numbers, and their twenty-nine dogs kept in good condition on the meat. The dogs were at this period kept on the ice outside the ship, and occasionally one would start out on a solitary expedition, remaining away all night, but invariably returning for meal-time. On the evening of November 2nd there was a sudden call “to arms,” and every one, whether “sleeping, prosing, or schooling”—for Dr. Walker held a school on board—flew to the ice, where a large he-bear was seen struggling with the dogs. He had approached within twenty-five yards of the ship before the quartermaster’s eye detected his indistinct outline against the snow. In crossing some very thin ice he broke through into the water, where he was surrounded by yelping dogs. Hobson, Young, and Petersen, had each lodged a bullet in him, but these only seemed to increase his rage. At length he got out of the water, and would doubtless have demolished some of the dogs, when M’Clintock, with a well-directed shot, put a bullet through his brain. The bear was a large one, and its carcase fed the dogs for nearly a month. M’Clintock says:—“For the few moments of its duration the chase and death was exciting. And how strange and novel the scene! A misty moon affording but scanty light, dark figures gliding singly about, not daring to approach each other, for the ice trembled under their feet, the enraged bear, the wolfish, howling dogs, and the bright flashes of the deadly rifles.”
About this period, and while the weather was reasonably fair, unearthly noises were heard under the ice, and alarming disruptions occurred close to the ship. Of one of the former occasions M’Clintock writes:—“A renewal of ice-crushing within a few hundred yards of us; I can hear it in my bed. The ordinary sound resembles the roar of distant surf breaking heavily and continuously; but when heavy masses come in collision with much impetus it fully realises the justness of Dr. Kane’s descriptive epithet, ‘ice artillery.’ Fortunately for us, our poor little Fox is well within the margin of a stout old floe; we are therefore undisturbed spectators of ice-conflicts which would be irresistible to anything of human construction. Immediately about the ship all is still, and, as far as appearances go, she is precisely as she would be in a secure harbour, housed all over, banked up with snow to the gunwales. In fact, her winter plumage is so complete that the masts alone are visible.”
Whenever it was possible to employ or amuse the men among these dreary scenes M’Clintock was most desirous that it should be done. Dr. Walker’s school was a genuine success, and the rather old school-boys most diligent in their studies, which were at first confined to the three R’s—reading, ’riting, and ’rithmetic. Later, however, lectures and readings were organised, and subjects adapted to interest the crew, such as the trade winds, the atmosphere, the uses of the thermometer, barometer, and so forth, were chosen. Healthful exercise was afforded to the men in banking up the ship with snow. On November 5th, says M’Clintock, “in order to vary our monotonous routine, we determined to celebrate the day.” Extra grog was issued, and one of Lady Franklin’s thoughtful presents, in the shape of preserved plum-pudding, helped to mark the occasion. In the evening a procession was organised, and the crew sallied forth, with drum, gong, and discord, to burn a huge effigy of Guy Fawkes upon the ice. “Their blackened faces, extravagant costumes, glaring torches, and savage yells, frightened [pg 220]away all the dogs; nor was it till after the fireworks were let off and the traitor consumed that they crept back again. It was school-night, but the men were up for fun, so gave the Doctor a holiday.”
ESQUIMAUX CATCHING SEALS.
On November 15th Captain Young shot the fiftieth seal, an event which was celebrated by the drinking of the bottle of champagne which had been reserved for the occasion of reaching the North Water—an unhappy failure, the more keenly felt from being so very unexpected. On November 16th “Petersen saw and fired a shot into a narwhal which brought the blubber out. When most Arctic creatures are wounded in the water, blubber more frequently appears than blood, particularly if the wound is superficial; it spreads over the surface of the water like oil. Bills of fare vary much in Greenland. I have inquired of Petersen, and he tells me that the Greenland Esquimaux (there are many Greenlanders of Danish origin) are not agreed as to which of their animals affords the most delicious food; some of them prefer reindeer venison, others think more favourably of young dog, the flesh of which, he asserts, is ‘just like the beef of sheep.’ He says a Danish captain, who had acquired the taste, provided some for his guests, and they praised his mutton! After dinner he sent for the skin of the animal, which was no other than a large red dog! This occurred in Greenland, where his Danish guests had resided for many years, far removed from European mutton. Baked puppy is a real delicacy all over Polynesia; at the Sandwich Islands I was once invited to a feast, and had to feign disappointment as well as I could when told that puppy was so extremely scarce it could not be procured in time, and therefore sucking-pig was substituted!”
On December 2nd an event occurred which cast a gloom over the little party. One of the engineers, Mr. Scott, had fallen down a hatchway, and died shortly afterwards from the effect of internal injuries then received. “A funeral at sea,” says M’Clintock, “is always peculiarly impressive; but this evening, at seven o’clock, as we gathered around the sad remains of poor Scott, reposing under a Union Jack, [pg 221]and read the Burial Service by the light of lanterns, the effect could not fail to awaken very serious emotions.
