“Wine froze in the bottles. Port was congealed into thin pink laminæ, which lay loosely, and occupied the whole length of the bottle. White wine, on the contrary, froze into a solid and perfectly transparent mass, resembling amber.”
On the 15th of March, a party under Captain Lyon started out to explore the land near the ships; they were provisioned for three or four days, but their experience was most unfortunate. The cold was intense, their tents at night affording little protection against the frightfully low temperature. They spent some time digging out a snow hut, which they hoped would prove warmer, but this was hardly more satisfactory. The following morning they found themselves almost buried with snow which had drifted at night during a fierce gale which now raged. All paraphernalia, sledges, etc., were completely buried. To remain where they were was as impracticable as to move on. Carrying with them a few pounds of bread, some rum, and a spade, the party set out in the hope of reaching the ships. Captain Lyon records their sufferings as follows:—
“Not knowing where to go, we wandered among heavy hummocks of ice, and suffering from cold, fatigue, and anxiety, were soon completely bewildered. Several of our party now began to exhibit symptoms of that horrid kind of insensibility which is the prelude of sleep. They all professed extreme willingness to do what they were told in order to keep in exercise, but none obeyed; on the contrary, they reeled about like drunken men. The faces of several were severely frost bitten, and some had for a considerable time lost sensation in their fingers and toes; yet they made not the slightest exertion to rub the parts affected, and even discontinued their general custom of warning each other on observing a discoloration of the skin. Mr. Palmer employed the people in building a snow wall, ostensibly as a shelter from the wind, but in fact to give them exercise when standing still must have proved fatal to men in our circumstances. My attention was exclusively directed to Sergeant Speckman, who, having been repeatedly warned that his nose was frozen, had paid no attention to it, owing to the state of stupefaction into which he had fallen. The frost bite now extended over one side of his face, which was frozen as hard as a mask; the eyelids were stiff and one corner of the upper lip so drawn up as to expose the teeth and gums. My hands being still warm, I had happiness in restoring circulation, after which I used all my endeavors to keep the poor fellow in motion; but he complained sadly of giddiness and dimness of sight, and was so weak as to be unable to walk without assistance. His case was so alarming that I expected every moment he would lie down never to rise again.
“Our prospect now became every moment more gloomy, and it was but too probable that four of our party would be unable to survive another hour. Mr. Palmer, however, endeavored, as well as myself, to cheer the people up, but it was a faint attempt, as we had not a single hope to give them. Every piece of ice, or even of small rock or stone, was now supposed to be the ships, and we had great difficulty in preventing the men from running to the different objects which attracted them, and consequently losing themselves in the drift. In this state, while Mr. Palmer was running round us to warm himself, he suddenly pitched on a new beaten track, and as exercise was indispensable, we determined on following it, wherever it might lead us. Having taken the Sergeant under my coat, he recovered a little, and we moved onward, when to our infinite joy we found that the path led to the ships.”
It was not until the 2d of July that the ships, free from ice for the first time in 267 days, put to sea, but not without danger of squeezes from the moving ice-floes which frequently threatened the destruction of the ship. Pushing to the northward, they entertained high hopes of making the looked-for passage to the Polar Sea, but unfortunately a formidable line of impenetrable ice barred the way and determined Parry to make an expedition along the frozen surface of the strait in which they found themselves.
For four days Parry, accompanied by a party of six, made a laborious and fatiguing advance over the uneven hummocks of ice that confronted them. At times open water made the journey still more perilous. Their exertions were at last repaid when they came in view of a bold cape, where they found the strait at its narrowest part about two miles across. To the westward the land receded until it became invisible, and Captain Parry beheld the great Polar Sea, into which he had long hoped to force his way. Naming this the Fury and Hecla Strait, he made ready for the return to the ships.
Taking advantage of every favourable condition, Captain Parry now made as rapid progress toward his goal as the ice would permit. Under full sail they pushed into the rotten ice that formed the barrier to the open water, but suddenly they became fixed,—not another yard could be gained. It was now found necessary to extricate the vessels and seek shelter for another long winter. On the 30th of October, by the usual operation of sawing, the ships were drawn into the harbour of Igloolik, and made ready for the winter, which was now rapidly closing.
Excursions were occasionally made with dogs and sledges bought of the Eskimos, but the season settled down with unusual severity and the second long winter’s night proved much more trying than the first. Death and scurvy made their lamentable appearance, and although Captain Parry desired to make another effort the following year by transferring to the Fury all provisions that could be spared, and sending the Hecla home with the sick, this project was abandoned, and on the 9th of August they turned their faces homeward.
They touched at Winter Island and found radishes, mustard, cress, and onions that they had planted the previous year still alive. The ships were drifted about in a stormy sea at the mercy of ice-floes and adverse currents. Not until September 23 did they get free into the Atlantic; and, the 10th of October, 1823, reached Lerwick, Scotland.
DESTRUCTION OF THE FURY