After twelve months’ imprisonment, the “Victory” was released from the ice on September 17, and proceeded once more on her discoveries. But the period of her liberty was short, for, after advancing three miles in one continual battle against the currents and the drift-ice, she again froze fast on the 27th of the same month.
In the following spring we again see the indefatigable James Ross extending the circle of his sledge excursions, and planting the British flag on the site of the Northern Magnetic Pole—which, however, is not invariably fixed to one spot, as was then believed, but moves from place to place within the glacial zone.
On August 28, 1831, the “Victory”—after a second imprisonment of eleven months—was warped into open water; but after spending a whole month to advance four miles, she was encompassed by the ice on September 27, and once more fettered in the dreary wilderness.
As there seemed no prospect of extricating her next summer, they resolved to abandon her and travel over the ice to Fury Beach, there to avail themselves of the boats, provisions, and stores, which would assist them in reaching Davis’s Straits. Accordingly, on May 29, 1832, the colors of the “Victory” were hoisted and nailed to the mast, and after drinking a parting glass to the ship with the crew, and having seen every man out in the evening, the captain took his own leave of her. “It was the first vessel,” says Ross, “that I had ever been obliged to abandon, after having served in thirty-six, during a period of forty-two years. It was like the last parting with an old friend, and I did not pass the point where she ceased to be visible without stopping to take a sketch of this melancholy desert, rendered more melancholy by the solitary, abandoned, helpless home of our past years, fixed in immovable ice, till time should perform on her his usual work.”
After having, with incredible difficulty, reached Fury Beach, where, thanks to the forethought of Sir Edward Parry, they fortunately found a sufficient number of boats left for their purpose, and all the provisions in good condition, they set out on August 1—a considerable extent of open sea being visible—and after much buffeting among the ice, reached the north of the inlet by the end of the month. But here they were doomed to disappointment, for, after several fruitless attempts to run along Barrow’s Strait, the ice obliged them to haul their boats on shore and pitch their tents. Day after day they lingered till the third week in September, but the strait continuing one impenetrable mass of ice, it was unanimously agreed that their only resource was to fall back again on the stores at Fury Beach, and there spend a fourth long winter within the Arctic Circle. They were only able to get half the distance in the boats, which were hauled on shore in Batty Bay on September 24, and performed the rest of their journey on foot, the provisions being dragged in sledges. On October 7 they once more reached the canvas hut, dignified with the name of “Somerset House,” which they had erected in July on the scene of the “Fury’s” wreck, and which they had vainly hoped never to see again.
They now set about building a snow-wall four feet thick round their dwelling, and strengthening the roof with spars, for the purpose of covering it with snow, and by means of this shelter, and an additional stove, made themselves tolerably comfortable, until the increasing severity of the cold and the furious gales confined them within-doors, and sorely tried their patience. Scurvy now began to appear, and several of the men fell victims to the scourge. At the same time, cares for the future darkened the gloom of their situation; for, should they be disappointed in their hopes of escaping in the ensuing summer, their failing strength and diminishing stores gave them but little hope of surviving another year.
It may easily be imagined how anxiously the movements of the ice were watched when the next season opened, and with what beating hearts they embarked at Batty Bay on August 15. Making their way slowly among the masses of ice with which the inlet was encumbered, they to their great joy found, on the 17th, the wide expanse of Barrow’s Strait open to navigation.
Pushing on with renewed spirits, Cape York soon lay behind them, and, alternately rowing and sailing, on the night of the 25th they rested in a good harbor on the eastern shore of Navy Board Inlet. At 4 o’clock on the following morning they were roused from their slumber by the joyful intelligence of a ship being in sight, and never did men more hurriedly and energetically set out; but the elements were against them, and the ship disappeared in the distant haze.
After a few hours’ suspense, the sight of another vessel lying to in a calm relieved their despair. This time their exertions were successful, and, strange to say, the ship which took them on board was the same “Isabella”—now reduced to the rank of a private whaler—in which Ross had made his first voyage to the Arctic Seas.
The seamen of the “Isabella” told him of his own death—of which all England was persuaded—and could hardly believe that it was really he and his party who now stood before them. But when all doubts were cleared away, the rigging was instantly manned to do them honor, and thundering cheers welcomed Ross and his gallant band on board! The scene that now followed can not be better told than in Ross’s own words.