Peter the Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

A fair breeze at length sprung up, which, bringing warmer weather, and enabling us to spread our canvas with effect, we cut away the ice round the ship, and then she, with her strong bows, forced a passage through it. While the wind lasted, with every yard of canvas alow and aloft the ship could carry, we pressed our onward way—sometimes among floes, threatening every instant to close in and nip us; at other times with drift and brash-ice surrounding us; and at others amid open ice, with here and there floating icebergs appearing near us.

To one of these we had to moor, on account of a shift of wind, which blew strong in our teeth; and at first, when I turned into my berth, I did not sleep as securely as usual, from remembering Andrew’s account of one toppling over and crushing a ship beneath it. However, I need scarcely say that that feeling very soon wore off. The objects gained by mooring to an iceberg are several. In the first place, from so large a proportion of the mass being below the water, the wind has little effect on it, and therefore the ship loses no ground; then it shields her from the drift-ice as it passes by, and she has also smooth water under its lee. Casting off from the iceberg, as did our consorts from those to which they had been moored, when the wind again became favourable, we continued our course.

We were now approaching the most dangerous part of our voyage, the passage across Melville Bay, which may be considered the north-eastern corner of Baffin’s Bay. Ships may be sailing among open ice, when, a south-westerly wind springing up, it may suddenly be pressed down upon them with irresistible force, and they may be nipped or totally destroyed.

All this I learned from old David, who was once here when upwards of twelve ships were lost in sight of each other, though the crews escaped by leaping on the ice.

“Remember, youngster, such may be our fate one of these days; and we shall be fortunate if we have another ship at hand to take us on board,” he remarked.

I never knew whether he uttered this not over-consolatory observation for my benefit, to remind me how, at any moment, the lives of us all might be brought to an end, or to amuse himself by watching its effect on me.

For a week we threaded our way among the open floes, when a solid field seemed to stop our further progress. This had been seen hours before, from the unbroken ice-blink playing over it. Our captain was in the crow’s-nest, looking out for a lane through which the ship might pass till clear water was gained. After waiting, and sailing along the edge of the field for some time, some clear water was discovered at the distance of three or four miles, and to it our captain determined that we should cut our way. The ice-saws were accordingly ordered, to be got ready, with a party to work them, on the ice. I was one of them; and, while we cut the canal, the ship was warped up, ready to enter the space we formed.

The ice-saw is a very long iron saw, and has a weight attached to the lower end. A triangle of spars is formed, with a block in the centre, through which a rope, attached to the upper part of the saw, is rove. The slack end of the rope is held by a party of men. When they run away from the triangle, the saw rises, and when they slack the rope, the weight draws it down, as the sawyer in a sawpit would do. As the saw performs its work, the triangles are moved from the edge of the ice. As the pieces were cut, they were towed away, and shoved along to the mouth of the canal.

All the time we were at work, some of the men with good voices led a song, in the chorus of which we all joined; and I must say we worked away with a will. It was harder work when we had to haul out the bits of ice, the ship being towed into the canal. With a cheerful shout we completed our canal, and got the ships into a natural lane; and the rest following close upon our track, we worked our way along for many miles, by what is called tracking.

This operation is very similar to the way a canal-boat is dragged along a canal through the green fields of England, only that men have, in the case I am describing, to do the work of horses. A tow-rope was made fast to the fore-mast, and about a third of each ship’s company were ordered to drag their respective ship ahead. Away we went, as usual, with song and laughter, tramping along the ice for miles together, and towing our homes, like snails, after us.