Enter Sir James Lancaster’s Sound—Land at Cape Warrender—Meet with young
ice—Ships beset and carried near the shore—Driven back to Navy-board
Inlet—Run to the westward, and enter Prince Regent’s Inlet—Arrival at
Port Bowen.
All our past obstacles were in a moment forgotten when we once more saw
an open sea before us; but it must be confessed that it was not so easy
to forget that the middle of September was already near at hand, without
having brought us even to the entrance of Sir James Lancaster’s Sound.
That not a moment might be lost, however, in pushing to the westward, a
press of canvas was crowded, and being happily favoured with an easterly
breeze, on the morning of the 10th of September we caught a glimpse of
the high bold land on the north side of the magnificent inlet up which
our course was once more to be directed. From the time of our leaving
the main body of ice we met with none of any kind, and the entrance to
the Sound was, as usual, entirely free from it, except here and there a
berg, floating about in that solitary grandeur of which these enormous
masses, when occurring in the midst of an extensive sea, are calculated
to convey so sublime an idea.
On the morning of the 11th, the ships being taken a-back with a fresh
westerly breeze when near Cape Warrender, I landed in a small bay close
to the westward of it, accompanied by several of the officers, in order
to examine the country, and to make the necessary observations.
On the morning of the 12th we were once more favoured with a breeze from
the eastward, but so light and unsteady that our progress was vexatiously
slow; and on the 13th, when within seven leagues of Cape York, we had the
mortification to perceive the sea ahead of us covered with young ice, the
thermometer having for two days past ranged only from 18° to 20°. On
reaching it we had, as usual, recourse to “sallying,” breaking it with
boats ahead, and various other expedients, all alike ineffectual without
a fresh and free breeze furnishing a constant impetus; so that, after
seven or eight hours of unsuccessful labour in this way, we were obliged
to remain as we were, fairly and immovably beset.
It now appeared high time to determine as to the propriety of still
continuing our efforts to push to the westward or of returning to
England, according to my instructions on that head under particular
circumstances. As the crossing of the ice in Baffin’s Bay had of itself
unexpectedly occupied nearly the whole of one season, it could not, of
course, be considered that the attempt to penetrate to the westward in
the manner directed by their lordships had as yet been made, nor could
it, indeed, be made during the present year. I could not, therefore,
have a moment’s hesitation as to the propriety of pushing on as far as
the present season would permit, and then giving a fair trial during the
whole of the next summer to the route I was directed by my instructions
to pursue. In order, however, to confirm my own opinion on this subject,
I requested to be furnished with that of Captain Hoppner; and finding
that his views entirely agreed with my own, I resolved still to pursue
our object by all the means in our power.
The next breeze sprang up from the westward, drawing also from the
southward at times, out of Prince Regent’s Inlet, and for three days we
were struggling with the young ice to little or no purpose, now and then
gaining half a mile of ground to windward in a little “hole” of open
water, then losing as much by the necessity of bearing up or wearing (for
the ice was too strong to allow us to tack), sallying from morning to
night with all hands, and with the watch at night, two boats constantly
under the bows; and, after all, rather losing ground than otherwise,
while the young ice was every hour increasing in thickness.
On the 17th, when we had driven back rather to the eastward of Admiralty
Inlet, an easterly breeze again enabled us to make some progress. The
sea was now for the most part covered with young ice, which had become so
thick as to look white throughout its whole extent. The holes of water
could now, therefore, be more distinctly seen, and by taking advantage of
these we succeeded in making a few miles of westing, the “leads” taking
us more in-shore, towards Admiralty Inlet, than before. Towards sunset
we became more and more hampered, and were eventually beset during the
night. A breeze sprang up from the westward, which increasing to a fresh
gale, we found ourselves at daylight far to the eastward, and also within
two miles of the land, near a long low point, which on the former voyages
had not been seen. The sea was covered with ice between us and the
shore, all of this year’s formation, but now of considerable thickness
and formidable appearance. The wind continuing strong, the whole body
was constantly pressed in upon the land, bearing the ships along with it,
and doubling one sheet over another, sometimes to a hundred thicknesses.
We quickly shoaled the water from seventy to forty fathoms, the latter
depth occurring about a mile from the beach; and after this we drifted
but little, the ice being blocked up between the point and a high
perpendicular berg lying aground off it.
The sails being furled, and the top-gallant yards got down, we now
considered ourselves fortunate in our situation; for had we been only a
quarter of a mile farther out we should have been within the influence of
a current that was there sweeping the whole body of ice to the eastward,
at the rate of a mile and a half an hour. Indeed, at times this current
was disposed to approach us still nearer, carrying away pieces of ice
close to our quarter; but by means of long hawsers, secured to the
heaviest and most compact of the small floes in-shore of us, we contrived
to hold on. Under such circumstances, it evidently became expedient to
endeavour, by sawing, to get the ships as close in-shore as possible, so
as to secure them either to grounded ice or by anchoring within the
shelter of a bay at no great distance inside of us; for it now seemed not
unlikely that winter was about to put a premature stop to all further
operations at sea for this season. At all events it was necessary to
consult the immediate safety of the ships, and to keep them from being
drifted back to the eastward. I therefore gave orders for endeavouring
to get the ships in towards the bay by cutting through what level floes
still remained. At the same time an officer was despatched to examine
the shore, which was found safe, with regular soundings in every part.
So strong had been the pressure while the ice was forcing in upon us,
that on the 20th, after liberating the _Hecla_ on one side, she was as
firmly cemented to it on the other as after a winter’s formation, and we
could only clear her by heavy and repeated “sallying.” After cutting in
two or three hundred yards, while the people were at dinner on the 21st,
our canal closed, by the external pressure coming upon the parts which we
had weakened, and in a few minutes the whole was once more in motion, or,
as the seamen not inaptly expressed it, “alive,” mass doubling under
mass, and raising those which were uppermost to a considerable height.
The ice thus pressed together was now about ten feet in thickness in some
places, and on an average not less than four or five, so that while thus
forced in upon a ship, although soft in itself, it caused her to tremble
exceedingly; a sensation, indeed, commonly experienced in forcing through
young ice of considerable thickness. We were now once more obliged to be
quiet spectators of what was going on around us, having with extreme
difficulty succeeded in saving most of our tools that were lying on the
ice when the squeezing suddenly began. Towards evening we made fast to a
stationary floe, at the distance of one mile from the beach, in eighteen
fathoms, where we remained tolerably quiet for the night, the ice outside
of us, and as far as we could see, setting constantly at a great rate to
the eastward. Some of our gentlemen, who had landed in the course of the
day, and who had to scramble their way on board over the ice in motion,
described the bay as deeper than it appeared from the offing. Dr. Neill
“found, on such parts of the beach as were not covered with ice or snow,
fragments of bituminous shale, flinty slate, and iron-stone, interspersed
amongst a blue-coloured limestone gravel. As far as he was able to
travel inland, the surface was composed of secondary limestone, partially
covered with a thin layer of calc-sinter. From the scantiness of the
vegetation here, the limestone seemed likely to contain a large
proportion of magnesia. Dr. Neill was about to examine for coal, which
the formation led him to expect, when the ice was observed to be in
motion, obliging him hastily to return on board.” Lieutenant Ross
“found, about two-thirds up a small peaked insulated hill of limestone,
between three and four hundred feet above the level of the sea, several
pieces of coal, which he found to burn with a clear bright flame,
crackling much, and throwing off slaty splinters.”
Hares’ burrows were numerous on this hill; Lieutenant Ross saw two of
these animals, one of which he killed. A fox was also observed in its
summer dress; and these, with a pair of ravens, some wingless ducks, and
several snow-buntings, were all the animals noticed at this place.
A sudden motion of the ice on the morning of the 22nd, occasioned by a
change of wind to the S.E., threatened to carry us directly off the land.
It was now more than ever desirable to hold on, as this breeze was likely
to clear the shore, and at the same time to give us a run to the
westward. Hawsers were therefore run out to the land-ice, composed of
some heavy masses, almost on the beach. With the _Hecla_ this succeeded,
but the _Fury_, being much farther from the shore, soon began to move out
with the whole body of ice, which, carrying her close to the large berg
off the point, swept her round the latter, where, after great exertion,
Captain Hoppner succeeded in getting clear, and then made sail to beat
back to us. In the meantime the strain put upon the _Hecla’s_ hawsers
being too great for them, they snapped one after another, and a
bower-anchor was let go as a last resource. It was one of Hawkins’s,
with the double fluke, and immediately brought up, not merely the ship,
but a large floe of young ice, which had just broken our stream-cable.
All hands were sent upon the floe to cut it up ahead, and the whole
operation was a novel and, at times, a fearful one; for the ice, being
weakened by the cutting, would suddenly gather fresh way astern, carrying
men and tools with it, while the chain-cable continued to plough through
it in a manner which gave one the idea of something alive, and
continually renewing its attacks. The anchor held surprisingly, and
after this tremendous strain had been put upon it for above an hour, we
had fairly cut the floe in two, and the ship was riding in clear water
about half a mile from the shore.
I was now in hopes we should have made some progress, for a large channel
of clear water was left open in-shore; a breeze blew off the land, and
the temperature of the atmosphere had again risen considerably. We had
not sailed five miles, however, when a westerly wind took us aback, and a
most dangerous swell set directly upon the shore, obliging me immediately
to stand off the land; and the _Fury_ being still to the eastward of the
point, I ran round it, in order to rejoin her before sunset. The current
was here setting very fast to the eastward, not less, I think, in some
places, than two miles an hour, so that, even in a clear sea, we had
little chance of stemming it, much less beset as we were in young ice
during an unusually dark night of nine or ten hours’ duration, with a
heavy fall of snow. The consequence was, that when we made the land on
the morning of the 23rd, we had been drifted the incredible distance of
eight or nine leagues during the night, finding ourselves off the
Wollaston Islands at the entrance of Navy Board Inlet. We stood in under
the islands to look for anchorage during the night, but the water being
everywhere too deep close to the shore, we made fast at sunset to some
very heavy ice upon a point, which we took to be the main land, but which
Captain Hoppner afterwards found to be upon one of the islands, which are
at least four in number.
After midnight on the 27th the wind began to moderate, and by degrees
also drew more to the southward than before. At daylight, therefore, we
found ourselves seven or eight miles from the land; but no ice was in
sight, except the “sludge,” of honey-like consistence, with which almost
the whole sea was covered. A strong blink, extending along the eastern
horizon, pointed out the position of the main body of ice, which was
farther distant from the eastern shore of the inlet than I ever saw it.
Being assisted by a fine working breeze, which at the same time prevented
the formation of any more ice to obstruct us, we made considerable
progress along the land, and at noon were nearly abreast of Jackson
Inlet, which we now saw to be considerably larger than our distant view
of it on the former voyage had led us to suppose. We found also that
what at a distance appeared an island in the entrance was in reality a
dark-looking rocky hill, on the south side. A few more tacks brought us
to the entrance of Port Bowen, which for two or three days past I had
determined to make our wintering-place, if, as there was but little
reason to expect, we should be so fortunate as to push the ships thus
far. My reasons for coming to this determination, in which Captain
Hoppner’s opinion also served to confirm me, will be sufficiently
gathered from the operations of the preceding fortnight, which convinced
me that the precarious chance of making a few miles’ more progress could
no longer be suffered to weigh against the evident risk now attending
further attempts at navigation: a risk not confined to the mere exposure
of the ships to imminent danger, or the hazard of being shut out of a
winter harbour, but to one which, I may be permitted to say, we all
dreaded as much as these—the too obvious probability of our once more
being driven back to the eastward, should we again become hampered in the
young ice. Joining to this the additional consideration that no known
place of security existed to the southward on this coast, I had not the
smallest hesitation in availing myself of the present opportunity to get
the ships into harbour. Beating up, therefore, to Port Bowen, we found
it filled with “old” and “hummocky” ice, attached to the shores on both
sides, as low down as about three-quarters of a mile below Stoney Island.
Here we made fast in sixty-two fathoms of water, running our hawsers far
in upon the ice, in case of its breaking off at the margin.
On entering Port Bowen, I was forcibly struck with the circumstance of
the cliffs on the south side of the harbour being, in many places,
covered with a layer of blue transparent-looking ice, occasioned
undoubtedly by the snow partially thawing there, and then being arrested
by the frost, and presenting a feature very indicative of the late cold
summer. The same thing was observed on all the land to which we made a
near approach on the south side of Barrow’s Strait this season,
especially about Cape York and Eardley Bay; but as we had never been
close to these parts of the shore in 1819, it did not occur to me as
anything new or worthy of notice. At Port Bowen, however, which in that
year was closely examined, I am quite certain that no such thing was to
be seen, even in the month of August, the cliffs being then quite clear
of snow, except here and there a patch of drift.
Late as we had this year been (about the middle of October) in reaching
Sir James Lancaster’s Sound, there would still have been time for a ship
engaged in a whale-fishery to have reaped a tolerable harvest, as we met
with a number of whales in every part of it, and even as far as the
entrance of Port Bowen. The number registered altogether in our journals
is between twenty and thirty, but I have no doubt that many more than
these were seen, and that a ship expressly on the look-out for them would
have found full occupation for her boats. Several which came near us
were of large and “payable” dimensions. I confess, however, that had I
been within the Sound, in a whaler, towards the close of so unfavourable
a season as this, with the young ice forming so rapidly on the whole
extent of the sea, I should not have been disposed to persevere in the
fishery under circumstances so precarious, and to a ship unprepared for a
winter involving such evident risk. It is probable, however, that on the
outside the formation of young ice would have been much retarded by the
swell; and I am inclined to believe that a season so unfavourable as this
will be found of rare occurrence.
We observed a great many narwhals in different parts of Barrow’s Strait,
and a few walruses, and should perhaps have seen many more of both, but
for the continual presence of the young ice.