CHAPTER XXXVIII.
LEAVING SMITH SOUND.—CROSSING THE NORTH WATER.—MEETING THE PACK.—THE SEA AND AIR TEEMING WITH LIFE.—REMARKABLE REFRACTION.—REACHING WHALE SOUND.—SURVEYING IN A BOAT.—THE SOUND TRACED TO ITS TERMINATION.—MEETING ESQUIMAUX AT ITEPLIK.—HABITS OF THE ESQUIMAUX.—MARRIAGE CEREMONY.—THE DECAY OF THE TRIBE.—VIEW OF BARDEN BAY.—TYNDALL GLACIER.
The ice coming in at length with an easterly wind, and being unable to find any harbor (Cadogen Inlet was completely filled with ice), we had no alternative but to stand away to the south; and this we did at a fortunate moment, for the ice crowded in against the shore with great rapidity; and, had we waited longer, we should have been unable to escape, and would have been driven upon the beach by the irresistible pack.
We carried the wind along with us down the coast until we reached below Talbot Inlet, when we came upon a heavy pack, and held our course for Whale Sound, which I was desirous of exploring. Passing close to the land, I had an excellent opportunity for observing the coast and perfecting the chart, especially of Cadogen and Talbot Inlets, both of which were traced around their entire circuit. The coast is everywhere bristling with glaciers. A large island lies below Talbot Inlet, inside of the Mittie Island of Captain Inglefield, and not before laid down.
A RARE DAY.
ARCTIC MIRAGE.
Skirting the northern margin of the ice, we made a course to the northeastward, across the North Water, through one of the most charming days that I have spent under the Arctic skies. There was but the feeblest "cat's-paw" to ruffle the sea, and we glided on our way over the still waters through a bright sunshine. The sea was studded all over with glittering icebergs and bits of old floes, and here and there a small streak of ice which had become detached from the pack. The beasts of the sea and the fowls of the air gathered around us, and the motionless water and the quiet atmosphere were alive. The walrus came snorting and bellowing through the sea as if to have a look at us; the seals in great numbers were continually putting up their cunning heads all around the vessel; the narwhal in large schools, "blowing" lazily, thrust their horns out of the sea, and their dappled bodies followed after with a graceful curve, as if they enjoyed the sunshine and were loathe to quit it; great numbers of white whale darted past us; the air and the icebergs swarmed with gulls; and flocks of ducks and auks were flying over us all the time. I sat upon the deck much of the day, trying, with indifferent success, to convey to my portfolio the exquisite green tints of the ice which drifted past us, and watching a most singular phenomenon in the heavens. These Arctic skies do sometimes play fantastic tricks, and on no occasion have I witnessed the exhibition to such perfection. The atmosphere had a rare softness, and throughout almost the entire day there was visible a most remarkable mirage or refraction,—an event of very frequent occurrence during the calm days of the Arctic summer. The entire horizon was lifting and doubling itself continually, and objects at a great distance beyond it rose as if by strange enchantment and stood suspended in the air, changing shape with each changing moment. Distant icebergs and floating ice-fields, and coast-lines and mountains were thus brought into view; sometimes preserving for a moment their natural shapes, then widening or lengthening, rising and falling as the wind fluttered or fell calm over the sea. The changes were as various as the dissolving images of a kaleidoscope, and every form of which the imagination could conceive stood out against the sky. At one moment a sharp spire, the prolonged image of a distant mountain-peak, would shoot up; and this would fashion itself into a cross, or a spear, or a human form, and would then die away, to be replaced by an iceberg which appeared as a castle standing upon the summit of a bill, and the ice-fields coming up with it flanked it on either side, seeming at one moment like a plain dotted with trees and animals; again, as rugged mountains; and then, breaking up after a while, disclosing a long line of bears and dogs and birds and men dancing in the air, and skipping from the sea to the skies. To picture this strange spectacle were an impossible task. There was no end to the forms which appeared every instant, melting into other shapes as suddenly. For hours we watched the "insubstantial pageant," until a wind from the north ruffled the sea; when, with its first breath, the whole scene melted away as quickly as the "baseless fabric" of Prospero's "vision;" and from watching these dissolving images, and wooing the soft air, we were, in a couple of hours, thrashing to windward through a fierce storm of rain and hail, under close-reefed sails.
LOST IN THE FOG.
We had some ugly knocking about and some narrow escapes in the thick atmosphere, before we reached Whale Sound. A heavy pack, apparently hanging upon the Carey Islands, drove us far up the North Water; and, to get to our destination, we were obliged to hold in close to Hakluyt Island. Here, the air having fallen calm, I pulled ashore; and, when we set out to return, we found ourselves enveloped in a fog which caused us some alarm. Observing its approach, we pulled to catch the schooner before the dark curtain closed upon us, but were overtaken when almost a mile away. Having no compass we became totally ignorant of which way to steer; and, although we heard the ship's bell and an occasional discharge of guns to attract our attention, yet, so deceptive is the ear where the eye is not concerned in guiding it, that no two of us caught the sound from the same direction; so we lay on our oars, and trusted to fortune. After a while, a light wind sprung up; and the schooner, getting under way, by the merest chance bore right upon us, and came so suddenly in view out of the dark vapors that we had like to have been run down before we could get headway on the boat.