DAVIS'S STRAITS
During that day the _Forward_ cut out an easy road amongst the
half-broken ice; the wind was good, but the temperature very low;
the currents of air blowing across the ice-fields brought with them
their penetrating cold. The night required the severest attention;
the floating icebergs drew together in that narrow pass; a hundred
at once were often counted on the horizon; they broke off from the
elevated coasts under the teeth of the grinding waves and the
influence of the spring season, in order to go and melt or to be
swallowed up in the depths of the ocean. Long rafts of wood, with
which it was necessary to escape collision, kept the crew on the alert;
the crow's nest was put in its place on the mizenmast; it consisted
of a cask, in which the ice-master was partly hidden to protect him
from the cold winds while he kept watch over the sea and the icebergs
in view, and from which he signalled danger and sometimes gave orders
to the crew. The nights were short; the sun had reappeared since the
31st of January in consequence of the refraction, and seemed to get
higher and higher above the horizon. But the snow impeded the view,
and if it did not cause complete obscurity it rendered navigation
laborious.
On the 21st of April Desolation Cape appeared in the midst of thick
mists; the crew were tired out with the constant strain on their
energies rendered necessary ever since they had got amongst the
icebergs; the sailors had not had a minute's rest; it was soon
necessary to have recourse to steam to cut a way through the heaped-up
blocks. The doctor and Johnson were talking together on the stern,
whilst Shandon was snatching a few hours' sleep in his cabin.
Clawbonny was getting information from the old sailor, whose numerous
voyages had given him an interesting and sensible education. The
doctor felt much friendship for him, and the boatswain repaid it with
interest.
"You see, Mr. Clawbonny," Johnson used to say, "this country is not
like all others; they call it _Green_land, but there are very few
weeks in the year when it justifies its name."
"Who knows if in the tenth century this land did not justify its name?"
added the doctor. "More than one revolution of this kind has been
produced upon our globe, and I daresay I should astonish you if I
were to tell you that according to Icelandic chronicles two thousand
villages flourished upon this continent about eight or nine hundred
years ago."
"You would so much astonish me, Mr. Clawbonny, that I should have
some difficulty in believing you, for it is a miserable country."
"However miserable it may be, it still offers a sufficient retreat
to its inhabitants, and even to civilised Europeans."
"Without doubt! We met men at Disko and Uppernawik who consented to
live in such climates; but my ideas upon the matter were that they
lived there by compulsion and not by choice."
"I daresay you are right, though men get accustomed to everything,
and the Greenlanders do not appear to me so unfortunate as the workmen
of our large towns; they may be unfortunate, but they are certainly
not unhappy. I say unhappy, but the word does not translate my thought,
for if these people have not the comforts of temperate countries,
they are formed for a rude climate, and find pleasures in it which
we are not able to conceive."
"I suppose we must think so, as Heaven is just. Many, many voyages
have brought me upon these coasts, and my heart always shrinks at
the sight of these wretched solitudes; but they ought to have cheered
up these capes, promontories, and bays with more engaging names, for
Farewell Cape and Desolation Cape are not names made to attract
navigators."
"I have also remarked that," replied the doctor, "but these names
have a geographical interest that we must not overlook. They describe
the adventures of those who gave them those names. Next to the names
of Davis, Baffin, Hudson, Ross, Parry, Franklin, and Bellot, if I
meet with Cape Desolation I soon find Mercy Bay; Cape Providence is
a companion to Port Anxiety; Repulsion Bay brings me back to Cape
Eden, and leaving Turnagain Point I take refuge in Refuge Bay. I have
there under my eyes an unceasing succession of perils, misfortunes,
obstacles, successes, despairs, and issues, mixed with great names
of my country, and, like a series of old-fashioned medals, that
nomenclature retraces in my mind the whole history of these seas."
"You are quite right, Mr. Clawbonny, and I hope we shall meet with
more Success Bays than Despair Capes in our voyage."
"I hope so too, Johnson; but, I say, is the crew come round a little
from its terrors?"
"Yes, a little; but since we got into the Straits they have begun
to talk about the fantastic captain; more than one of them expected
to see him appear at the extremity of Greenland; but between you and
me, doctor, doesn't it astonish you a little too?"
"It does indeed, Johnson."
"Do you believe in the captain's existence?"
"Of course I do."
"But what can be his reasons for acting in that manner?"
"If I really must tell you the whole of my thoughts, Johnson, I believe
that the captain wished to entice the crew far enough out to prevent
them being able to come back. Now if he had been on board when we
started they would all have wanted to know our destination, and he
might have been embarrassed."
"But why so?"
"Suppose he should wish to attempt some superhuman enterprise, and
to penetrate where others have never been able to reach, do you believe
if the crew knew it they would ever have enlisted? As it is, having
got so far, going farther becomes a necessity."
"That's very probable, Mr. Clawbonny. I have known more than one
intrepid adventurer whose name alone was a terror, and who would never
have found any one to accompany him in his perilous expeditions----"
"Excepting me," ventured the doctor.
"And me, after you," answered Johnson, "and to follow you; I can
venture to affirm that our captain is amongst the number of such
adventurers. No matter, we shall soon see; I suppose the unknown will
come as captain on board from the coast of Uppernawik or Melville
Bay, and will tell us at last where it is his good pleasure to conduct
the ship."
"I am of your opinion, Johnson, but the difficulty will be to get
as far as Melville Bay. See how the icebergs encircle us from every
point! They scarcely leave a passage for the _Forward_. Just examine
that immense plain over there."
"The whalers call that in our language an ice-field, that is to say
a continued surface of ice the limits of which cannot be perceived."
"And on that side, that broken field, those long pieces of ice more
or less joined at their edges?"
"That is a pack; if it was of a circular form we should call it a
patch; and, if the form was longer, a stream."
"And there, those floating icebergs?"
"Those are drift-ice; if they were a little higher they would be
icebergs or hills; their contact with vessels is dangerous, and must
be carefully avoided. Here, look over there: on that ice-field there
is a protuberance produced by the pressure of the icebergs; we call
that a hummock; if that protuberance was submerged to its base we
should call it a calf. It was very necessary to give names to all
those forms in order to recognise them."
"It is truly a marvellous spectacle!" exclaimed the doctor,
contemplating the wonders of the Boreal Seas; "there is a field for
the imagination in such pictures!"
"Yes," answered Johnson, "ice often takes fantastic shapes, and our
men are not behindhand in explaining them according to their own
notions."
"Isn't that assemblage of ice-blocks admirable? Doesn't it look like
a foreign town, an Eastern town, with its minarets and mosques under
the pale glare of the moon? Further on there is a long series of Gothic
vaults, reminding one of Henry the Seventh's chapel or the Houses
of Parliament."
"They would be houses and towns very dangerous to inhabit, and we
must not sail too close to them. Some of those minarets yonder totter
on their base, and the least of them would crush a vessel like the
_Forward_."
"And yet sailors dared to venture into these seas before they had
steam at their command! How ever could a sailing vessel be steered
amongst these moving rocks?"
"Nevertheless, it has been accomplished, Mr. Clawbonny. When the wind
became contrary--and that has happened to me more than once--we
quietly anchored to one of those blocks, and we drifted more or less
with it and waited for a favourable moment to set sail again. I must
acknowledge that such a manner of voyaging required months, whilst
with a little good fortune we shall only want a few days."
"It seems to me," said the doctor, "that the temperature has a tendency
to get lower."
"That would be a pity," answered Johnson, "for a thaw is necessary
to break up these masses and drive them away into the Atlantic; besides,
they are more numerous in Davis's Straits, for the sea gets narrower
between Capes Walsingham and Holsteinborg; but on the other side of
the 67th degree we shall find the seas more navigable during the months
of May and June."
"Yes; but first of all we must get to the other side."
"Yes, we must get there, Mr. Clawbonny. In June and July we should
have found an open passage, like the whalers do, but our orders were
precise; we were to be here in April. I am very much mistaken if our
captain has not his reasons for getting us out here so early."
The doctor was right in stating that the temperature was lowering;
the thermometer at noon only indicated 6 degrees, and a north-west
breeze was getting up, which, although it cleared the sky, assisted
the current in precipitating the floating masses of ice into the path
of the _Forward_. All of them did not obey the same impulsion, and
it was not uncommon to encounter some of the highest masses drifting
in an opposite direction, seized at their base by an undercurrent.
It is easy to understand the difficulties of this kind of navigation;
the engineers had not a minute's rest; the engines were worked from
the deck by means of levers, which opened, stopped, and reversed them
according to the orders of the officers on watch. Sometimes the brig
had to hasten through an opening in the ice-fields, sometimes to
struggle against the swiftness of an iceberg which threatened to close
the only practicable issue, or, again, some block, suddenly
overthrown, compelled the brig to back quickly so as not to be crushed
to pieces. This mass of ice, carried along, broken up and amalgamated
by the northern current, crushed up the passage, and if seized by
the frost would oppose an impassable barrier to the passage of the
_Forward_.
Birds were found in innumerable quantities on these coasts, petrels
and other sea-birds fluttered about here and there with deafening
cries, a great number of big-headed, short-necked sea-gulls were
amongst them; they spread out their long wings and braved in their
play the snow whipped by the hurricane. This animation of the winged
tribe made the landscape more lively.
Numerous pieces of wood were floating to leeway, clashing with noise;
a few enormous, bloated-headed sharks approached the vessel, but
there was no question of chasing them, although Simpson, the harpooner,
was longing to have a hit at them. Towards evening several seals made
their appearance, nose above water, swimming between the blocks.
On the 22nd the temperature again lowered; the _Forward_ put on all
steam to catch the favourable passes: the wind was decidedly fixed
in the north-west; all sails were furled.
During that day, which was Sunday, the sailors had little to do. After
the reading of Divine service, which was conducted by Shandon, the
crew gave chase to sea-birds, of which they caught a great number.
They were suitably prepared according to the doctor's method, and
furnished an agreeable increase of provisions to the tables of the
officers and crew.
At three o'clock in the afternoon the _Forward_ had attained Thin
de Sael, Sukkertop Mountain; the sea was very rough; from time to
time a vast and inopportune fog fell from the grey sky; however, at
noon an exact observation could be taken. The vessel was in 65 degrees
20 minutes latitude by 54 degrees 22 minutes longitude. It was
necessary to attain two degrees more in order to meet with freer and
more favourable navigation.
During the three following days, the 24th, 25th, and 26th of April,
the _Forward_ had a continual struggle with the ice; the working of
the machines became very fatiguing. The steam was turned off quickly
or got up again at a moment's notice, and escaped whistling from its
valves. During the thick mist the nearing of icebergs was only known
by dull thundering produced by the avalanches; the brig was instantly
veered; it ran the risk of being crushed against the heaps of
fresh-water ice, remarkable for its crystal transparency, and as hard
as a rock.
Richard Shandon never missed completing his provision of water by
embarking several tons of ice every day. The doctor could not accustom
himself to the optical delusions that refraction produces on these
coasts. An iceberg sometimes appeared to him like a small white lump
within reach, when it was at least at ten or twelve miles' distance.
He endeavoured to accustom his eyesight to this singular phenomenon,
so that he might be able to correct its errors rapidly.
At last the crew were completely worn out by their labours in hauling
the vessel alongside of the ice-fields and by keeping it free from
the most menacing blocks by the aid of long perches. Nevertheless,
the _Forward_ was still held back in the impassable limits of the
Polar Circle on Friday, the 27th of April.