With some difficulty the mass of ice that had got foul of the cable was disengaged, but in a few moments another and a larger mass fixed upon it, and threatened to carry it away. In this extremity the captain ordered the anchor to be hove up, but this was not easily accomplished, and when at last it was hove up to the bow, both flukes were found to have been broken off, and the shank was polished bright with rubbing on the rocks.
Ice now came rolling down in great quantities and with irresistible force, and at last the ship was whirled into the much-dreaded pack, where she became firmly embedded, and drifted along with it before the gale into the unknown regions of the north all that night. To add to their distress and danger a thick fog overspread the sea, so that they could not tell whither the ice was carrying them, and to warp out of it was impossible. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to drive before the gale and take advantage of the first opening in the ice that should afford them a chance of escape.
Towards evening of the following day the gale abated, and the sun shone out bright and clear, but the pack remained close as ever, drifting steadily towards the north.
“We’re far beyond the most northerly sea that has ever yet been reached,” remarked Captain Guy to Fred and Singleton, as he leaned on the weather bulwarks, and gazed wistfully over the fields of ice in which they were embedded.
“I beg your pardon for differing, Captain Guy, but I think that Captain Parry was farther north than this when he attempted to reach the pole,” remarked Saunders, with the air of a man who was prepared to defend his position to the last.
“Very possibly, Mr Saunders, but I think we are at least farther north in this direction than anyone has yet been; at least I make it out so by the chart.”
“I’m no sure o’ that,” rejoined the second mate positively; “charts are not always to be depended on, and I’ve heard that whalers have been up hereabouts before now.”
“Perhaps you are right, Mr Saunders,” replied the captain, smiling; “nevertheless I shall take observations and name the various headlands until I find that others have been here before me. Mivins, hand me the glass; it seems to me there’s a water-sky to the northward.”
“What is a water-sky, Captain?” enquired Fred.
“It is a peculiar, dark appearance of the sky on the horizon, which indicates open water—just the reverse of that bright appearance which you have often seen in the distance, and which we call the ice-blink.”