THE CAPTAIN AFTER THE BEAR.
We were only about sixty yards away when he reached the point, and we now felt sure of him. We had not succeeded in cutting off his line of retreat, but we had come within easy range; and since the vessel was forging ahead, we should be almost atop of the animal by the time he got out of the water. The Panther was going fairly for the ice, and we were all ready to fire the moment he showed himself. But the animal was too cunning for us. The rough hummocks of the point hid from our view a bight on the opposite side, into which the bear swam for safety; and now, thoroughly sheltered behind the ice for which we were making, he was getting the better of us. With that quickness of perception characteristic of the skillful sailor, the captain grasped the situation, and, seeing that to round the point was to lose the bear for certain, he shouted to the man at the wheel to put his helm hard a-port, which caused us to bring up with a terrific thump a short distance from the point, where the ice was comparatively thin. The moment the ship struck and buried herself a little, the captain let himself down by a rope from the cat-head, and, followed by two other rifles, ran over the floe towards the bend of the bight for which the bear was making, but not in time to intercept him. He reached the ice, and drew his enormous body out of the water a hundred yards from the riflemen, and bounded away with the speed of the wind, not stopping even long enough to shake himself of the great quantity of water in his long hair. Every body fired at him, of course, but none of our balls took effect; at least none of them produced any impression upon his speed. The captain thought he saw blood, and kept up the race for half a mile, hoping to see him drop or halt, as the one he had chased before, mortally wounded; but the animal was soon out of sight among the icebergs, and our eagerly coveted game was gone.
We were all much chagrined by this mishap. Every man had regarded him as his own particular prize, and felt quite sure of him. We had even taken the measurement and weight of his body. One was going to have his skin spread out for a mat, with his head stuffed and his paws on. Another was going to drive four-in-hand in the Park, and have him for a sleigh-robe; another was going to sell him for two hundred and fifty dollars currency, and he knew where to place the article; but all these bright anticipations came to a most lamentable end when the bear carried off his own skin in his own four-in-hand fashion.
We were soon consoled for this disappointment by another alarm. It came from the look-out up aloft, and was answered with a universal “Where away?” which was answered in turn by the most satisfactory assurance that they were down on the extreme point of a long, narrow floe, and were apparently easily accessible. They were three in number. We bore down upon them without delay, the man aloft conning the ship, until they were seen from the deck, when the captain, as usual, gave his own orders.
The ice upon which the bears were proved this time to be very thin and rotten, as was evidenced by the fact that the animals frequently broke through. They could not, therefore, travel very fast, even if they should become frightened; and then, besides, as we came nearer to them we perceived that, no matter how fast they might travel, there was but little chance of their escaping us, for in whatever direction they might attempt to go we could follow them; and when in the water they would be easily overtaken, as they would have at least a quarter of a mile to swim before reaching another floe.
The Panther tore through the ice this time without difficulty; and she actually broke the ice up with such facility, and approached the bears with such rapidity, that they were almost dropped into the water—at least a crack was forced open ahead of us, almost underneath the bears’ feet. They took to it immediately, and we almost ran over them. As we approached we might have shot them very easily; but the photographers were crazy for a chance at them, and, seeing that there was no possibility of their escape, we sacrificed our impatience in the interest of art.
The bears having swum a little while, crawled upon the ice. By this time we had wheeled round, and the photographers had a fine chance at them. The hunters were impatient, but they had not long to wait, for the delighted “colonel” soon thrust his head out of his photographic box and shouted, “I’m done with them, gentlemen.” At this moment the bears took the water again.
We made short work of cutting through a tongue of ice which intervened and, coming upon the animals as they swam, we ceased playing with them as a cat plays with a mouse before swallowing it, and at thirty yards gave them a volley, and three more bears were added to our trophies. The carcasses were soon hoisted on deck, and we then steered for Wilcox Point, without, however, seeing any bears by the way. Then we headed in for the Devil’s Thumb, and, discovering a moderately firm floe, which seemed to be held in its position by some grounded icebergs, we steered for it, run the Panther a hundred yards into it, and proceeded to let our six prizes down on the ice, where we soon had the skins off; some for specimens, and some for robes and mats—each one who was the fortunate possessor of a skin following the bent of his fancy in the matter.
Pushing off from the floe, we steamed to within two miles of the Thumb, and anchored. Probably no vessel had ever been so near it as we were, and although our situation was one of some peril, we did not feel justified in losing the opportunity so auspiciously presented to us. We climbed the hills all round, and everywhere we went we discovered numerous traces of reindeer, but we did not succeed in finding any of the animals themselves. There can be no doubt that they exist there in considerable numbers, and had we followed them inland it is equally certain that we would have found any number of them. But for an enterprise of that description we had not sufficient time to stay—or, rather, the threatening nature of the ice, and the uncertainty of our situation, made it important that all hands should be at least within signalling distance, that we might steam out from underneath the Devil’s Thumb upon the first threat of danger.
To climb the Thumb we found to be impossible, but we reached its base, and from there—an elevation of thirteen hundred feet, according to my barometer—we overlooked one of the most remarkable scenes that ever met the eye of man. Such a wilderness of ice, such a forest of icebergs, such boundless desolation, would be difficult to describe, or to be appreciated except by the actual observer. Let me, in a mechanical sort of way, make the attempt to convey to the reader’s mind some idea of this remarkable scene.