The scene around us was as imposing as it was alarming. Except the earthquake and volcano, there is not in nature an exhibition of force comparable with that of the ice-fields of the Arctic Seas. They close together, when driven by the wind or by currents against the land or other resisting object, with the pressure of millions of moving tons, and the crash and noise and confusion are truly terrific.
We were now in the midst of one of the most thrilling of these exhibitions of Polar dynamics, and we became uncomfortably conscious that the schooner was to become a sort of dynamometer. Vast ridges were thrown up wherever the floes came together, to be submerged again when the pressure was exerted in another quarter; and over the sea around us these pulsating lines of uplift, which in some cases reached an altitude of not less than sixty feet,—higher than our mast-head,—told of the strength and power of the enemy which was threatening us.
We had worked ourselves into a triangular space formed by the contact of three fields. At first there was plenty of room to turn round, though no chance to escape. We were nicely docked, and vainly hoped that we were safe; but the corners of the protecting floes were slowly crushed off, the space narrowed little by little, and we listened to the crackling and crunching of the ice, and watched its progress with consternation.
FORCE OF THE ICE-FIELDS.
At length the ice touched the schooner, and it appeared as if her destiny was sealed. She groaned like a conscious thing in pain, and writhed and twisted as if to escape her adversary, trembling in every timber from truck to kelson. Her sides seemed to be giving way. Her deck timbers were bowed up, and the seams of the deck planks were opened. I gave up for lost the little craft which had gallantly carried us through so many scenes of peril; but her sides were solid and her ribs strong; and the ice on the port side, working gradually under the bilge, at length, with a jerk which sent us all reeling, lifted her out of the water; and the floes, still pressing on and breaking, as they were crowded together, a vast ridge was piling up beneath and around us; and, as if with the elevating power of a thousand jack-screws, we found ourselves going slowly up into the air.
My fear now was that the schooner would fall over on her side, or that the masses which rose above the bulwarks would topple over upon the deck, and bury us beneath them.
We lay in this position during eight anxious hours.
At length the crash ceased with a change of wind and tide. The ice exhibited signs of relaxing. The course of the monster floes which were crowding down the Sound was changed more to the westward. We beheld the prospect of release with joy.
THE SCHOONER IN DANGER.
Small patches of open water were here and there exhibited among the hitherto closely impacted ice. The change of scene, though less fearful, was not less magical than before. By and by the movement extended to the floes which bound us so uncomfortably, and with the first cessation of the pressure the blocks of ice which supported the forward part of the schooner gave way, and, the bows following them, left the stern high in the air. Here we rested for a few moments quietly, and then the old scene was renewed. The further edge of the outer floe which held us was caught by another moving field of greater size, when the jam returned, and we appeared to be in as great danger as before; but this attack was of short duration. The floe revolved, and, the pressure being almost instantly removed, we fell into the water, reeling forward and backward and from side to side, as the ice, seeking its own equilibrium, settled headlong and in wild confusion beneath us from its forced elevation.