A boy's-eye view of the Arctic

by Kennett Longley Rawson

Immediately the Commander clambered aloft to survey the situation. Seeing a favorable opening he directed the helmsman to head her for it. In another second we had passed the outer portals of the pack and had at least entered upon the great ordeal of the expedition. Here even the delay of several weeks would defeat the aims of the expedition, as the short northern summer would be over and the season for flying terminated. If the winds blew from the southward our situation would be precarious in the extreme, and only a kind providence could keep us from an untimely end. Even a few hours of ice pressure against the Peary’s sides might easily open her seams, and leave her a leaking hulk.

Our watch continued working the vessel through the leads until midnight, when the port watch came on deck. As I lay in my forecastle bunk in the eerie half-light of the northern midnight I could hear the crash of the vessel smashing her way forward through the fog over the encroaching pans. My berth was well up in the bow, and as each blow smote the planking it seemed as if the next surely would stave the bow. But the sturdy oak withstood all onslaughts, and soon the dread sounds became sweet music, and I fell asleep.

When I came on deck the next morning, the vessel was lying moored to a pan as the fog had become so thick that it was impossible to discern the weak spots in the ice. As the fog showed no signs of lifting, the Commander proffered a suggestion. We were to go on a seal hunt! Therefore, we took down our guns and set forth at once. I went along with Abie, as I figured that he would know where to find the quarry from his long association with them in Labrador. For some time we tramped across the ice. Then Abie suddenly turned with a signal for silence. I followed the direction of his eyes and saw a small dark object floating in the open water of the lead. Silently he unlimbered his rifle, took deliberate aim, and dispatched a ball through the animal’s head. His was a perfect shot and made in the one essential spot, since it is necessary to shoot a seal through the head or its dying reflex action will expel the air from its lungs thus causing it to sink. After we saw that the shot had been properly placed and the animal was going to float, I dashed back to the ship to obtain a small boat and a harpoon. The harpoon was soon procured and I sprang into the boat. Just then Byrd and McDonald sauntered over from the Peary. Seeing what was up they climbed in with me to recover the prize. I rowed as hard as I could down the lead, since I was fearful that our trophy would sink. A short pull brought us to the spot, and one of the men seized the harpoon and lunged with all his might. But he struck the seal across the hair and the harpoon glanced off, while under the impetus of the blow the seal sank about ten feet. My heart sank with him. Slowly, however, he emerged, and this time with Abie bellowing advice, the harpoon was firmly affixed and we drew our victim out on the ice. It was a young seal, not much larger than a roasting pig. Abie decided that it would make tender eating; so he set about skinning it. After the skinning and cleaning was completed, we stowed the seal in the boat and departed for the ship.

Meanwhile several of the other boys had scattered over the floes, Dick Salmon being hull down some distance away. As the fog had begun to rot out, it was decided to get under weigh immediately. Therefore the recall signal was sounded from the Peary’s siren, and the boys came scurrying back. Poor Dick, however, had an intervening lead open between him and the vessel; so he was forced to hang up until he could find a place to cross. Seeing his plight, the Commander ran the Bowdoin down towards him, and just as the lead again closed he came down on him and picked him up.

We were now nearly in the centre of the pack, and with clearer skies our hopes of getting clear of the pack began to rise. Steadily we forged to the northward through the thick pans. So far there had been little wind, and the ice had not packed together very heavily. Towards evening, however, under the influence of the tide, the ice began to pack, and the Bowdoin was caught in a nip. We were jammed as if in a vise, between two great floes of ice. Robbie was in charge as the Commander had gone aboard the Peary to con her through the ice. Immediately Robbie ordered us out on the ice to try to break away the jagged edges which threatened to impale us. We pounded away with heavy timbers and managed to break off several sharp points, thus making an easier berth for the vessel. But try as we would, we could neither go forward nor backward. The Peary observing our situation swung around and came ramming back to our aid. With the tremendous blows of her massive bow, she planed off great pieces of the floes until finally she broke through to our relief. In a short time, however, she herself was inextricably caught. The pressure was considerable, and the Peary assumed a list of five or six degrees.

Dr. Koelz soon came over to the Bowdoin in royal bad humor, complaining that the grinding of the ice against the side of the Peary had prevented him from sleeping. Furthermore, on trying to leave his cabin, the pressure had so contracted the vessel that he found his door so jammed it would not open, and the combined efforts of three men were necessary to liberate the Doctor who came aboard the Bowdoin for refuge. Long afterwards we discovered that the vessel had contracted several inches from the tremendous pressure.

In a few hours the tide again shifted, and to our great relief the vessel was freed of the pressure. Then we again got under weigh, and were soon ploughing along at a good rate of speed, considering the handicaps under which we labored. At this time we began to wonder where we were, as for some days we had been unable to determine our position by observation, because of the thick weather.

For five days we had been at sea. We had encountered heavy fogs, icebergs and the savage pack, and we had come through safe and undaunted. Now as the weather was clearing, our wonder as to where we were increased. Had some fell current swept us far from our course? Had our many zigzags in the ice carried us in circles? Where were we indeed? The weather continued to clear until we could discern the blue sky overhead and the pale iceblink all around. Then the Commander, with his glass clapped on the northern horizon, suddenly became aware of a dark streak in the even white of the iceblink.

“Land clouds,” said the Commander, as he swept them with his binoculars.

Land clouds they indeed seemed to be, and all eyes were thenceforth strained to catch a view of the land itself. Meanwhile the man aloft had been saying little and looking much. Suddenly rang out the long-hoped-for cry, “Land ho!”