The temperature of the water and air was found higher upon this side of the island, and I have no doubt but that the climate of the vicinity of Mackenzie bay is materially modified by the comparatively warm water coming out in great volume from the Mackenzie river. The strong current running to the northward from the river would naturally sweep the ice out of the bay and to the northward, as far as the vicinity of Banksland and the extreme northern Arctic.
Where it goes to and where it ceases is now a matter of conjecture. It is to be hoped that the drift-floats which were launched by us from this point, and from various points between here and Herald island, may contribute something to the solution of this question.
As the chances of being shut in by the ice were easily among the possibilities to the whalers who were in our company, and with whose fate our companion the Beluga had joined for the time, the whole question of supplies and retreat was gone over with the whaling masters. A retreat up the valley of the Mackenzie, the Porcupine, and Yukon, seemed feasible, as reindeer were to be found in this vicinity in the winter months.
As the masters of the whalers would not return with me to the eastward, I determined to start back, in order to make my westerly cruise with the sailing fleet. Recalling the boats, we got underway, standing first to the northeast to put over our first drift-float clear of the tidal influence of the waters immediately about Herschel island, and in the open water and northerly current of the Mackenzie. These floats were made of wood about two feet long and nine inches thick, with the name of the ship, the date, and the words, for drift, cut upon the face. In a cavity at one end of the float, plugged with soft wood, there was placed a copper cylinder containing a letter requesting the finder to inform the U. S. Hydrographic office at Washington, the nearest U. S. Consul, or the commanding officer of the Thetis, the time and place where the float was found.
After launching the float upon its unknown journey, a lookout was sent to the highest masthead: from there it was reported that to the northward and northeastward there was nothing in sight but open water, neither ice nor ice-blink was visible, and the western entrance to the Northwest passage stretched before us invitingly, as clear and as free as the waters of our own Chesapeake bay. But I had reached my limit, and turning back, to the regret of many on board, faced once more the icy sea that lay before us toward Point Barrow and the westward.
The weather, however, was superb, clear, cold, and sunny, during the day, while in the now darkening shades of the evening for the first time the moon appeared, silvering most beautifully the chain of mountains along the coast and the fantastic shapes of the grounded ice.
On the 17th we began to meet and overtake the whalers, who still delayed in the vicinity of Camden bay, waiting for whales. Five were passed, some cruising and some fast to the ice-floes. After communicating with them and informing them of our probable movements, we kept on to the westward. The ice-conditions were favorable and we made very good headway, making fast to an ice-floe, off our old island-friends of the midway group, on the evening of the 17th of August.
The wind is always a subject of constant watchfulness and anxiety in this part of the Arctic; it virtually makes the currents and brings down the ice, or sends it off and clears a narrow lane along the shore-line. A northerly shift of wind caused a desire to push on, and passing on we sighted Return reef again and skirted along the long and narrow island which now bears the name of the Thetis. Passing the mouth of the Colville we steamed at a good rate of speed through Harrison bay and found there the wind blowing strong from the west, bringing much ice with it and accompanied by a cold fog. The outlook being discouraging I determined to press on for Point Barrow, not very far distant. The early morning of the 19th of August opened cloudy, overcast, and cold, with a gale and snow from the westward, the ice increasing in quantity and size.
There being no protection from the wind this side of Point Barrow, I ordered full speed so as to get to the point and beyond it before the almost inevitable shift to the northward which would bring the ice down and shut us out. The leads between the ice-floes became narrower and fewer in number, and but little better outlook was found as we edged inshore as far as the shoal water would allow us to go. At this time we sighted as many as eight polar bears on the ice, but this was no time to hunt "bear." Coming to the end of our lead we rammed through some pack-ice into another one, which, however, again led into water too shoal for us. Finding from my perch aloft that the ice seemed even heavier to the west, I determined to stand back to the eastward into the more open water we had left by the lead we had come through; but it was too late: this lead had closed and we were prisoners in the pack. There being no other place to go, I reluctantly selected the largest pool, or pocket, got out our ice-anchors, and made fast to a heavy floe, to await further developments. It was found to be in slow motion, and four times during the night we had to move to avoid the heavy floes closing in around us. From this time, the 19th, until the morning of the 24th, we were close prisoners in the heavy pack which had set down with the wind, now northerly, between Point Barrow and Point Tangent.
In the words of the Ancient Mariner of Coleridge: