cut to the southward into the ice, whilst the water was trying hard to
get to us from the north; it eventually caught us, and (Saturday,
August 8th,) we were all afloat in open water, with a barrier of ice
_still southward towards Barrow's Strait_. The "Intrepid" had been
sent early in the week to look round the north end of Griffith's
Island, and reported a narrow neck of ice from the N.W. bluffs towards
Somerville Island. Eastward, and not westward, was, however, to be our
course, and we therefore remained where we were. On the 9th and 10th, a
general disruption of the little remaining ice took place: we made
gentle and very cautious moves towards Barrow's Strait; and, at last,
on August 11th, the ice, as if heartily tired of us, shot us out into
Barrow's Strait, by turning itself fairly round on a pivot. We were at
sea because we could not help it, and the navigable season was
proclaimed to have commenced.
[Headnote: _STEAMING FOR ASSISTANCE HARBOUR._]
Taking, like another Sinbad, our "Resolute" old burden behind us, the
"Pioneer" steamed away for Assistance Harbour, from whence, as we had
been given to understand some days previously, Jones's Sound was to be
our destination; a plan to which I the more gladly submitted, as I felt
confident, from all I had heard and seen of its geography or of that of
the neighbouring land, that it would be found to connect itself with
Penny's North Water: once in it we felt failure of our object to be
impossible; we had still three years' provisions, and nearly four years
of many things. One man had died, perhaps half-a-dozen more were
invalids, but the rest were strong and hearty: to be sure, we all
lacked much of that sanguineness which had animated us hitherto.
Repeated disappointment, long journeys in the wrong direction (as it
had proved), over regions which had, of course, shown no trace of those
we had hoped to rescue--had all combined to damp our feelings.
The morning fog broke, and a day, beautiful, serene, and sunny,
welcomed us into Assistance Harbour, which we found had just cleared
out of ice; and the "Lady Franklin," "Sophia," and "Felix," with
anchors down, rode all ready for sea. As we towed the "Resolute" up to
her anchorage, Captain Penny pulled past in his gig, evidently going to
make an official visit to our leader. Directly after the "Pioneer" was
secured, I went on board the "Resolute," to hear the news, her first
lieutenant having been in Assistance Harbour (Captain Penny's quarters)
up to the moment of our arrival. I then learned that Penny was going to
volunteer to proceed up Wellington Channel, if it cleared out, in one
of our steamers; and my gallant friend, the first lieutenant, spoke
strongly upon the necessity of still trying to reach the North Water by
the said route, whilst I maintained that, until we had visited Jones's
Sound, it was impossible to say whether it would not be found an easier
road into the open sea seen by Captain Penny than Wellington Channel
appeared to be. Captain Penny soon joined us, and there, as well as
afterwards on board the "Lady Franklin," I heard of his proposal above
alluded to, which had been declined. Failing in his offer of
coöperation, which was for one reason not to be wondered at,--insomuch
that our large and efficient squadron needed no assistance either in
men or material to do the work alone,--Captain Penny had decided on
returning home, believing that Franklin was so far to the N.W. as to
be beyond his reach, and also looking to the tenor of his instructions,
which strictly enjoined him to return to England in 1852.
* * * * *
[Headnote: _DEPARTURE FOR JONES'S SOUND._]
Next morning, by four o'clock, we were all bound to the eastward. A few
amongst those of our squadron still hoped by Jones's Sound to reach
that sea of whose existence, at any rate, we had no longer any doubt,
whatever might be its difficulty of access. Off Cape Hotham we found a
loose pack; it extended about half way across Wellington Channel, and
then a clear sea spread itself eastward and northward along the shores
off North Devon to Cape Bowden. From a strong ice-blink up Wellington
Channel there was reason to think the barrier[4] still athwart it; we
did not, however, go to ascertain whether it was so, but, favoured by a
fair wind, steamed, sailed, and towed the "Resolute," as fast as
possible past Beechey Island. The form of sending letters to England
had been duly enacted, but few were in a humour to write; the news
would be unsatisfactory, and, unless Jones's Sound was an open sea, and
we could not therefore help entering it, there was a moral certainty of
all being in England within a short time of one another.
[4] Had we but happily known at that time of the perfect
description of the Wellington Channel ice subsequent to our
passage across in 1850, as shown by the tract of the American
Expedition and Lieutenant De Haven's admirable report, we should
not then have fallen into the error of believing _barriers_
of ice to be permanent in deep-water channels, a fallacy which it
is to be hoped has exploded with many other misconceptions as to
the fixed nature of ice, and the constant accumulation of it in
Polar regions.
And so it proved. Leaving the "Assistance" and "Resolute" to join us
off Cape Dudley Digges, the steamers proceeded, under Captain Austin,
with three months' provisions, on the night of the 14th of August, for
Jones's Sound.
Next morning brought the steamers close in with the shore between Capes
Horsburgh and Osborn, along which we steered towards Jones's Sound.
Glacier and iceberg again abounded, and the comparatively tame scenery
of Barrow's Strait was changed for bold and picturesque mountains and
headlands. As the evening of the 15th drew in, Jones's Sound gradually
opened itself in the Coburg Bay of the charts, and, in spite of a
strong head-wind, we drew up to and commenced working up it under sail
and steam. During the night, Cape Leopold showed to be an island,
dividing the sound into two entrances; and the exhilarating effect of a
fine broad expanse of water leading to the westward, up which we were
thrashing under a press of canvas, was only marred by the unpleasant
fact that we had parted from the ships containing our main stock of
provisions, without the means of following up any traces, should we be
happy enough to discover them, of the poor missing expedition.
* * * * *
_Saturday, August 16th, 1851._--The sound is evidently narrowest about
the entrance; from a point to the N.W. of us it evidently increases in
width; loose patches of ice are occasionally met with, and the tides
seem somewhat strong, judging by the set of the vessel. The scenery is
magnificent, especially on the south shore, where some ten miles in the
interior a huge dome of pure white snow envelopes land some 3000 or
4000 feet high, which Captain Austin has named the Trenter Mountains,
in compliment to the family of Sir John Barrow (that being the maiden
name of the Dowager Lady Barrow). From this range long winding glaciers
pour down the valleys, and project, through the ravines, into the
deep-blue waters of this magnificent strait. Northward of us the land
is peculiar, lofty table-land, having here and there a sudden dip, or
thrown up in a semi-peak. The draught of the wind has blown constantly
down the strait. Such are my rough notes made during the day, as the
"Pioneer" and "Intrepid" worked to the westward; but as evening drew
on, the increasing smoothness of the water, and a hard icy blink to the
west, prepared us for a report which came from the crow's nest about
midnight, that there was very much ice to the windward of us.
[Headnote: _STOPPED BY ICE-FIELDS._]
Next day, 17th, after a fog which caused some delay had cleared off,
the disagreeable truth revealed itself: from a little beyond a
conical-shaped island on the north shore, the sound was still barred
with floes, although at this point it increased at least twelve miles
more in breadth. Going up to the floe-edge, the steamers crossed to the
S.W., following the ice carefully along until it impinged upon the
southern shore. The night was beautifully serene and clear; and, as if
to add to our regret, four points and a half of the compass, or 54° of
bearing to the westward, showed no symptom of land. The northern side
of the sound trended away to the west, preserving its lofty and marked
character; whilst on the south the land ended abruptly some fifteen
miles farther on, and then, beyond a small break, one of those
wedge-shaped hills peculiar to the limestone lands of Barrow's Strait
showed itself at a great distance; and the natural suggestion to my own
mind was, that the opening between the said wedge-shaped hill and the
land on our southern hand would have been found to connect itself with
the deep fiords running to the northward from Croker Bay, in Lancaster
Sound; and for an opinion as to the direction of Jones's Sound, whose
frozen surface forbade us to advance with our vessels, I was, from what
I saw, fully willing to believe in the report of my ice quarter-master,
Robert Moore, a clever, observant seaman, as the annexed report will
show:--
"SIR,
"It was in 1848 that I was with Captain Lee in the 'Prince of
Wales,' when we ran up Jones's Sound. The wind was from the S.S.E.
compass (_E.N.E. true_), thick weather, with a strong breeze. We
steered up Jones's Sound, N.E. by compass (_westwardly true_), for
fourteen hours, when, seeing some ice aground, we hauled to.
"The next day, being fine weather, we proceeded farther up, and
seeing no ice or fish (_whales_), a boat was sent on shore. She,
returning, reported not having seen any thing but _very high land_
and _deep water close to_ rocks on the south shore.
"We tacked ship, and stood to the N.E. compass (_N.W. true_); saw
some ice aground on a sand-bank, with only six feet water on it at
low water, but standing on the N.E. compass (_N.W. true_), found
deep water from five to eight miles across from the sand to the
north shore. When past the sand, open water as far as we could see
from the masthead, and extending from about _N.E. to N.N.W.
compass_ (N.W. to W.S.W. true). We then returned, being fine and
clear, and could not see what we were in search of (whales).
"Leaving the north land, a long, low point, running up to a
_table-top mountain, we came across to the south side, which was
bold land right out of the sound_.
"We saw the _Pinnacle Rocks at the end of that sound_ (_Princess
Charlotte's Monument_); and _this and the low land between that
sound_ and _Lancaster Sound_, as we were running to the S.E., makes
me confident is the same place which we were up in the 'Pioneer.'
"The distance we ran up the sound in the 'Prince of Wales,' I
think, to the best of my judgment, was about a hundred and fifty or
sixty miles, &c.
"(Signed) ROBERT MOORE,
"Ice quarter-master, H.M.S. 'Pioneer.'
"To Lieut. Sherard Osborn."
The italics in the above letter serve to show how correctly these
observations of my quarter-master agreed with the sound we were up; and
taking this, together with the description of the land seen by Captain
Stewart and Dr. Sutherland, during their late journey up the eastern
side of Wellington Channel, I believe that a very narrow intervening
belt of low land divides Jones's Sound from Baring Bay, in Wellington
Channel, and that, turning to the northward, this sound eventually
opens into the same great Polar Sea which washes the northern shores of
the Parry group.
[Headnote: _ERECTION OF A CAIRN._]
Unable to advance, we returned, upon our wake, to the conical island on
the north side of the sound; and a boat, with two officers in it, was
sent to erect a cairn. They returned next morning, having found, what
interested me very much, numerous Esquimaux traces, though of very
ancient date, and shot several birds--a seasonable increase to our
stock for table-consumption. One of the sportsmen assured me that, in
spite of the increased number of glaciers around us, and other
appearances of a more severe climate than we had been in the habit of
seeing in Barrow's Strait, he was of opinion that there was much more
vegetation in our neighbourhood than in the more southern latitude of
Cornwallis Island. The specimens of plants brought off in the boat,
such as poppies, saxifrage, and moss, were all finer than we had seen
elsewhere; and reindeer horns, near the Esquimaux ruins, showed that
these animals were to be found.
The island was a mass of gray-coloured granite, with some dark masses
of ferruginous-coloured rock intermixed, the whole much broken and rent
by the agency of frost and water.
Monday, the 18th of August, we proceeded along the northern shore,
towards another entrance which had shown itself on the north side of
Leopold Island,--the Jones's Sound of the old charts,--which we now
proved not to have been blocked up by either land or glaciers.
The land about Cape Hardwicke was little else, in my opinion, than a
group of islands,--an impression in which I became the more confirmed
when the ice obliged us to strike off directly to the eastward; and
Cape Clarence stood out bold and clear, with a midnight sun behind it:
and the light streamed through the different ice-choked channels
between Capes Hardwicke and Clarence, throwing up the land, _where
there was land_, in strong and dark relief.
Beyond Cape Clarence I saw no symptom of land, nor did any one else
either. It is said to recede; very possibly it may; but as neither we,
nor the "Resolute" and "Assistance," (who all reached a higher latitude
than any discovery-ships have been since Baffin's memorable voyage,)
ever saw land north of Cape Clarence, I trust, for the sake of
geography, that the beautifully-indented line which now joins the land
about Smith's Sound to that of Clarence Head, in our charts, may be
altered into a dotted one, as denoting that the said coast exists
rather in the imagination of channel-closing voyagers than actually in
the north-west corner of Baffin's Bay.
A multitude of grounded icebergs showed a shoal, which appears to bar
the northern entrance to Jones's Sound; and, during the night, a sudden
gale from the north, together with high water in the tides, set them
all floating and dancing around us in a very exciting style. Edging
constantly along large floe-pieces, we were eventually carried next day
into the packed ice, through which our way had to be found under
double-reefed sails, the two pretty screw-schooners thrashing away in
gallant style, until a dead calm again left us to steam our best;
indeed, all night of the 19th was a constant heavy tussle with a pack,
in which the old floe-pieces were being glued together by young ice,
varying from two to five inches in thickness; patches of water, perhaps
each an acre in extent, were to be seen from the crow's nest, and from
one to the other of these we had to work our way. By-and-by the Cary
Isles showed themselves to the northward, and then the flat-topped land
between Cape York and Dudley Digges.
[Headnote: _EASTERN SIDE OF BAFFIN'S BAY._]
Our last hope of doing any service this season lay in the expectation
that open water would be found along the northeast side of Baffin's
Bay; but this expectation was damped by the disagreeable knowledge that
our provisions on board the steamers were too scanty to allow us to
follow up any opening we should have found.
On the afternoon of the 28th of August, a strong water-sky and heavy
bank showed the sea to be close at hand to the south, as well as a
strong breeze behind it. We rattled on for Wolstenholme Island, reached
under its lee by the evening, and edged away to the north, quickly
opening out Cape Stair, and finding it to be an island, as the Cape
York Esquimaux, on board the "Assistance," had led us to believe.
Passing some striking-looking land, which, although like that of the
more southern parts of Greenland, was bold and precipitous, intersected
with deep valleys, yet comparatively free from glaciers, we saw the
Booth Sound of Sir John Ross, and shortly afterwards sighted what
proved afterwards to be the southern bluff of Whale Sound. We could not
approach it, however, and, choosing an iceberg, we anchored our
steamers to await an opening.
On Thursday, the 21st of August, I started in a boat with Mr.
MacDougal, to see if we could get as far as Whale Sound. The bay-ice,
in which we could neither pull nor sail, whilst it was too thin to
stand upon, or track the boat through, materially checked our progress.
By the afternoon we reached a close pack-edge, which defied farther
progress; but, on landing, we found ourselves to be at the entrance of
a magnificent inlet, still filled with ice, which extended to the
eastward for some fifteen miles, having in its centre a
peculiarly-shaped rock, which the seamen immediately christened "Prince
Albert's Hat," from its resemblance to a marine's shako. The numerous
traces here of Esquimaux were perfectly startling; their tent-places,
winter abodes, cachés, and graves, covered every prominent point about
us. Of what date they were, it was impossible, as I have elsewhere
said, to form a correct idea. The enamel was still perfect on the bones
of the seals which strewed the rocks, the flesh of which had been used
for food. On opening one of the graves, I found the skeleton of an old
man, with a good deal of the cartilage adhering to the bones, and in
the skull there was still symptoms of decaying flesh; nothing, however,
was seen to denote a recent visit of these interesting denizens of the
north. Each caché, or rather, circle of stones, had a flat slab for a
cover, with a cairn near it, or else an upright mass of stone, to
denote its position; and some of the graves were constructed with a
degree of care and labour worthy of a more civilized people: several
had huge slabs of stone on the top, which it must have required a great
many men to lift, and some ingenuity to secure.
Scurvy-grass in great abundance, as well as another antiscorbutic
plant, bearing a small white flower, was found wherever we landed; and
I likewise observed London-pride, poppies, sorrel, dwarf willow,
crow-feet grass, saxifrage, and tripe-de-roche, besides plenty of turf,
which, with very little trouble, would have served for fuel,--and this
in latitude 76° 52' N. Large flocks of geese and ducks were flying
about; the great northern diver passed overhead, and uttered its shrill
warning cry to its mate, and loons, dovekies, and plalaropes, in small
numbers, gave occasional exercise for our guns.
[Headnote: _VISIT FROM ESQUIMAUX._]
The coast was all of granitic formation: and if one might judge from
the specimens of iron pyrites and copper ore found here and there, the
existence of minerals in large quantities, as is the case about
Uppernavik, may be taken for granted.
The 22d, 23d, 24th, and 25th of August passed without a favourable
change taking place; indeed, by this time our retreat, as well as
advance, had been barred by the pack. Pressed up from Baffin's Bay by
the southerly gales of this season of the year, the broken floes seemed
to have been seeking an outlet by the north-west. The winter was fast
setting in, temperature falling thus early, and the birds every day
more scarce.
About one o'clock on the morning of the 26th August, I was aroused and
told that Esquimaux were coming off on dog-sledges. All hands turned
out voluntarily to witness the arrival of our visitors. They were five
in number, each man having a single sledge. As they approached, they
uttered an expression very like Tima! or rather Timouh! accompanied by
a loud, hoarse laugh. Some of our crew answered them, and then they
appeared delighted, laughing most immoderately.
The sledges were entirely constructed of bone, and were small,
neat-looking vehicles: no sledge had more than five dogs; some had only
three. The dogs were fine-looking, wolfish animals, and either white or
tan colour. The well-fed appearance of the natives astonished us all;
without being tall (averaging about 5 ft. 5 in.), they were
brawny-looking fellows, deep-chested, and large-limbed, with Tartar
beards and moustachios, and a breadth of shoulder which denoted more
than ordinary strength. Their clothing consisted of a dressed seal-skin
frock, with a hood which served for a cap when it was too cold to trust
to a thick head of jet-black hair for warmth. A pair of bear-skin
trowsers reaching to the knee, and walrus-hide boots, completed their
attire. Knowing how perfectly isolated these people were from the rest
of the world,--indeed, they are said with some degree of probability to
have believed themselves to be the only people in the world,--I was not
a little delighted to see how well necessity had taught them to clothe
themselves; and the skill of the women was apparent in the sewing, and
in one case tasteful ornamental work of their habiliments.
I need hardly say that we loaded them with presents: their ecstacy
exceeded all bounds when each was presented with a boat-hook staff, a
piece of wood some twelve feet long. They danced, shouted, and laughed
again with astonishment at possessing such a prize. Wood was evidently
with them a scarce article; they had it not even to construct sledges
with. York, the interpreter, had before told us they had no canoes for
want of it; and they seemed perfectly incapable of understanding that
our ships and masts were altogether made of wood. The intelligence
shown by these people was very gratifying; and from having evidently
been kindly treated on board the "North Star," during her sojourn in
this neighbourhood, they were confident of good treatment, and went
about fearlessly. On seeing a gun, they laughed, and said, "Pooh!
pooh!" to imitate its sound. One man danced, and was evidently anxious
to repeat some nautical shuffling of the feet to the time of a fiddle,
of which he had agreeable recollections, whilst another described how
we slept in hammocks. After some time, a document was given them, to
show any ship they might visit hereafter; and they were sent away in
high spirits. The course they had taken, both coming and going, proved
them to be from Wolstenholme Sound; and, as well as we could
understand, they had lately been to the northward, looking for pousies
(seals), and no doubt were the natives whose recent traces had been
seen by some of the officers near Booth Inlet, who had likewise
observed the remnants of some old oil-cask staves, which once had been
in an English whaler.
[Headnote: _GALE IN THE PACK._]
_August 26th, 1851._--Beset against a floe, which is in motion, owing
to the pressure of bergs upon its southern face; and as it slowly
_coachwheels_ (as the whalers term it) round upon an iceberg to
seaward of us, we employ ourselves heaving clear of the danger. A
gale--fast rising, and things looking very ugly. The "Intrepid," who
had changed her berth from the "inshore" to the "offshore" side of the
"Pioneer," through some accident of ice-anchors slipping, was caught
between the floe and the iceberg, and in a minute inextricably, as far
as human power was concerned, surrounded with ice; and as the floe,
acted upon by the pressure of bergs and ice driving before the gale,
forced more and more upon the berg, we were glad to see the vessel rise
up the inclined plane formed by the tongue of the iceberg under her
bottom. Had she not done so, she must have sunk. Sending a portion of
our crew to keep launching her boats ahead during the night, we watched
with anxiety the fast-moving floes and icebergs around us. A wilder
scene than that of this night and the next morning it would be
impossible to conceive. Our forced inactivity--for escape or reciprocal
help was impossible--rendered it the more trying.
Lieutenant Cator has himself told the trials to which the "Intrepid's"
qualities were subjected that night and day; how she was pushed up the
iceberg high and dry; and how the bonnie screw came down again right
and tight. We meanwhile drifted away, cradled in floe-pieces, and
perfectly helpless, shaving past icebergs, in close proximity, but
safely, until the gale as suddenly abated, and we found ourselves some
six miles north of the "Intrepid," and off the Sound, which, for want
of a name, we will call "Hat Sound." Steaming and sailing up a head of
water back towards our consort, we soon saw that she was all right and
afloat again, though beset in the pack. We therefore took advantage of
an opening in the ice to run to the northward alone. About midnight,
the Whale Sound of Baffin being then open to our view, but filled with
broken ice, and our farther progress impeded by the pack, we again made
fast at this, the farthest northern latitude reached by any of our
squadron, viz., 77° north latitude.
* * * * *