We turn now to continue the story of another expedition.
The little Prince Albert, which spoke the Advance and Rescue in Baffin Bay, July 12, 1851, on her return trip to northern waters, had been most carefully overhauled and refitted for her arduous enterprise. Her commander was Captain Kennedy, and second in command was Lieutenant J. Bellot, a young French officer noted for his adventurous spirit and charming personality, who had volunteered his services. Among the crew, all of whom were picked men, was John Hepburn, who had accompanied Sir John Franklin on that first land expedition which came near proving fatal to the entire party. Another of the men had accompanied Dr. Rae on his first journey to Repulse Bay, and a third had accompanied Sir John Richardson in his boat journey through the interior of America.
Discouraging conditions of ice and weather met the gallant crew in Prince Regent Inlet. Ploughing a way through a tortuous course, the Prince Albert succeeding in reaching Elwin Bay only to find it ice-bound and impassable. Batty Bay and Fury Beach were also impossible of access, and now the condition of the ice becoming so alarming, they gave up an attempt at the west side of the inlet and made a hasty retreat to Port Bowen,—where traces of Sir Edward Parry’s party, which wintered there in 1825, were still discernible.
To avoid wintering at so great a distance from the scene of the explorations planned for the following spring, they recrossed the strait and approached the shore for the purpose of making a landing. Captain Kennedy, accompanied by four of the crew, cast off in a gutta-percha boat and made for the beach. Upon landing, Captain Kennedy ascended the cliffs of Cape Seppings, and decried Port Leopold free from ice. Hoping to put the Prince Albert in this safe harbour, he at once made an attempt to rejoin his ship, but, upon reaching the shore, found to his consternation that, owing to the sudden moving of the ice-pack, he could not rejoin her and that she was being merrily carried down-stream in spite of every effort of the men on board to stop her progress. The shadows of night came upon them rapidly, and the tempestuous roaring, grinding, and tossing of the ice was all that could be seen or heard.
A most uncomfortable night followed their unlucky adventure. Their boat was the only available shelter, and this served for a covering under which one man at a time took an hour’s uncomfortable rest, while the others exercised to keep their bodies from freezing. The next morning at dawn, upon mounting the cliffs once more, their alarm was increased by the melancholy fact that the ship had completely disappeared from view.
No more forlorn castaways can be imagined. The only mitigating circumstance in their sorry condition was the knowledge that on the other side of the harbour at Whaler Point, Sir James Ross had left a deposit of provisions about two years before. To this point their steps were now directed, and upon reaching the depot their hopes revived somewhat when they found the condition of the provisions excellent. The house left by Sir James Ross was in fair condition, the flag and record were easily found, and, resigned to their fate, Kennedy and his companions determined to face the possibility of passing the long Arctic winter with the best possible grace.
“It was now,” says Kennedy, “the 10th of September. Winter was evidently fast setting in, and, from the distance the ship had been carried during that disastrous night, whether out to sea or down the inlet we could not conjecture—there was no hope of our being able to rejoin her, at least during the present season. There remained, therefore, no alternative but to make up our minds to pass the winter, if necessary, where we were. The first object to be attended to was the erecting of some sort of shelter against the daily increasing inclemency of the weather; and for this purpose, the launch, left by Sir James Ross, was selected. Her main mast was laid on supports at the bow and stern, about nine feet in height, and by spreading two of her sails over this a very tolerable roof was obtained. A stove was set up in the body of the boat, with the pipes running through the roof; and we were soon sitting by a comfortable fire, which, after our long exposure to the wet and cold, we stood very much in need of.”
RETURN OF THE PRINCE ALBERT
It was the intention of Captain Kennedy to make sledge journeys to distant points in the hope of sighting the Prince Albert or discovering traces of the Erebus and Terror,—but before the necessary preparations were completed, some five weeks after their separation from the ship, a shot echoed through the stillness, and Lieutenant Bellot and seven of the crew of the Prince Albert came to their rescue. After two previous attempts to find their long-lost comrades, they had succeeded in dragging the jolly-boat all the way from Batty Bay, where the Prince Albert was securely moored. Of this happy reunion, Captain Kennedy writes:—