Wednesday, 16th.The weather again became clear, after the sun rose, on the 16th, and we embarked as soon as the flowing of the tide enabled us to launch the boats, all in the highest spirits at the prospect of escaping from this detestable island. We took advantage of the fair wind, set the sails, and steered to the westward parallel to the coast. We had never more than from three to six feet water, for the first seven miles, until we had passed round the reef that projects from the point we had so often attempted to reach, and which was named Point Anxiety.
Between Point Anxiety and Point Chandos, which is eight miles further to the westward, the land was occasionally seen; but after rounding the latter point we lost sight of it, and steered to the westward across the mouth of Yarborough Inlet, the soundings varying from five feet to five fathoms. The fog returned, and the wind freshening, soon created such a swell upon the flats, that it became necessary to haul further from the land; but the drift ice beginning to close around us, we could no longer proceed with safety, and, therefore, endeavoured to find a landing-place. An attempt was made at Point Herald, and another on the western point of Prudhoe bay, but both were frustrated by the shoalness of the water, and the height of the surf. The increasing violence of the gale, however, and density of the fog, rendering it absolutely necessary for us to obtain some shelter, we stood out to seaward, with the view of making fast to a large piece of ice. In our way we fell among gravelly reefs, and arriving at the same time suddenly in smooth water, we effected a landing on one of them. A temporary dispersion of the fog showed that we were surrounded with banks nearly on a level with the water, and protected to seaward by a large body of ice lying aground. The patch of gravel on which we were encamped, was about five hundred yards in circumference, destitute of water, and with no more drift wood than a few willow branches, sufficient to make one fire.
CHAPTER V.
Commence Return to the Mackenzie—Delayed again at Foggy Island—Ice packed on the Reefs near Beaufort Bay, and on the Coast about Clarence River—Pass the Channels near Herschel Island in a Gale and Fog—A sudden Gale—Escape an Attack which the Mountain Indians meditated—Enter the Mackenzie—Peel River—Arrival at Fort Franklin.
Wednesday, 16th.The period had now arrived when it was incumbent on me to consider, whether the prospect of our attaining the object of the voyage was sufficiently encouraging to warrant the exposure of the party to daily increasing risk, by continuing on. We were now only half way from the Mackenzie River to Icy Cape; and the chance of reaching the latter, depended on the nature of the coast that was yet unexplored, and the portion of the summer which yet remained for our operations.
I knew, from the descriptions of Cook and Burney, that the shore about Icy Cape resembled that we had already passed, in being flat, and difficult of approach; while the general trending of the coast from the Mackenzie to the west-north-west, nearly in the direction of Icy Cape, combined with the information we had collected from the Esquimaux, led me to conclude that no material change would be found in the intermediate portion.
The preceding narrative shows the difficulties of navigating such a coast, even during the finest part of the summer; if, indeed, any portion of a season which had been marked by a constant succession of fogs and gales could be called fine. No opportunity of advancing had been let slip, after the time of our arrival in the Arctic Sea; and the unwearied zeal and exertion of the crews had been required, for an entire month, to explore the ten degrees of longitude between Herschel Island and our present situation, I had, therefore, no reason to suppose that the ten remaining degrees could be navigated in much less time. The ice, it is true, was more broken up, and the sea around our present encampment was clear; but we had lately seen how readily the drift ice was packed upon the shoals by every breeze of wind blowing towards the land. The summer, bad as it had been, was now nearly at an end, and on this point I had the experience of the former voyage for a guide. At Point Turn-again, two degrees to the south of our present situation, the comparatively warm summer of 1821 was terminated on the 17th of August, by severe storms of wind and snow; and in the space of a fortnight afterwards, winter set in with all its severity. Last year, too, on the 18th and following days of the same month, we had a heavy gale at the mouth of the Mackenzie; and appearances did not indicate that the present season would prove more favourable. The mean temperature of the atmosphere had decreased rapidly since the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, and the thermometer had not lately shown a higher temperature than 37°. Ice, of considerable thickness, formed in the night, and the number of the flocks of geese which were hourly seen pursuing their course to the westward, showed that their autumnal flight had commenced.
While a hope remained of reaching Behring Straits, I looked upon the hazard to which we had, on several occasions, been exposed, of shipwreck on the flats, or on the ice, as inseparable from a voyage of the nature of that which we had undertaken; and if such an accident had occurred, I should have hoped, with a sufficient portion of the summer before me, to conduct my party in safety back to the Mackenzie. But the loss of the boats when we should have been far advanced, and at the end of the season, would have been fatal. The deer hasten from the coast as soon as the snow falls; no Esquimaux had been lately seen, nor any winter-houses, to denote that this part of the coast was much frequented; and if we did meet them under adverse circumstances, we could not, with safety, trust to their assistance for a supply of provision; nor do I believe that, if willing, even they would have been able to support our party for any length of time.