MELVILLE BAY.
ON the nineteenth of June the boats were launched into the sea, now
calm, the "Faith" leading under Kane, and the "Eric" under Bonsall, and
the "Hope" under Brooks following. The sea birds screamed a welcome to
the squadron, and flew about them as if to inquire why they came back in
three vessels instead of one, as when they sailed northward two years
before. But there was no leisure for converse with birds. They had just
passed Hakluyt Island, when the "Eric" sunk. Her crew, Bonsall, Riley,
and Godfrey, struggled to the other boats, and the "Faith" took the
sunken craft in tow. Soon after Brooks shouted that the "Hope" was
leaking badly, and threatening to sink. Fortunately the floe was not far
off, and into one of its creek-like openings they run the boats,
fastened them to the ice, and the weary men lay down in their bunks
without drawing the boats from the water and slept.
The next day they drew their leaking crafts ashore, and calked them for
another sea adventure. For several days they struggled with varying
fortunes until they brought up, weary, disheartened, and worn down by
work and an insufficient diet of bread-dust, and fastened to an old floe
near the land. Scarcely were they anchored when a vast ice raft caught
upon a tongue of the solid floe about a mile to the seaward of them, and
began to swing round upon it as a pivot, and to close in upon our
explorers. This was a new game of the ice-enemy. Nearer and nearer came
the revolving icy platform, seeming to gather force with every whirl. At
first the commotion that was made started the floe, to which they were
fastened, on a run toward the shore as if to escape the danger. But it
soon brought up against the rocks and was overtaken by its pursuer. In
an instant the collision came. The men sprang, by force of discipline,
to the boats and the stores, to bear them back to a place of safety, but
wild and far-spread ruin was around them. The whole platform where they
stood crumbled and crushed under the pressure, and was tossed about and
piled up as if the ice-demon was in a frenzy of passion. Escape for the
boats seemed for the moment impossible, and none expected it; and none
could tell when they were let down into the water, nor hardly how, yet
they found themselves whirling in the midst of the broken hummocks, now
raised up and then shaken as if every joint in the helpless, trembling
boats was to be dislocated. The noise would have drowned the uproar of
contending armies as ice was hurled against ice, and, as it felt the
awful pressure, it groaned harsh and terrific thunder. The men, though
utterly powerless, grasped their boat-hooks as the boats were borne away
in the tumultuous mass of broken ice and hurried on toward the shore.
Slowly the tumult began to subside, and the fragments to clear away,
until the almost bewildered men found themselves in a stretch of water
making into the land, wide enough to enable them to row. They came
against the wall of the ice-foot, and, grappling it, waited for the
rising tide to lift them to its top. While here the storm was fearful,
banging the boats against the ice-wall, and surging the waves into them,
thus keeping the imperiled men at work for dear life in bailing out the
water. They were at last lifted by the tide to the ice-foot, upon which
they pulled their boats, all uniting on each boat. They had landed on
the cliff at the mouth of a gorge in the rock; into this they dragged
the boats, keeping them square on their keels. A sudden turn in the cave
placed a wall between them and the storm, which was now raging
furiously. While they were drawing in the last boat, a flock of eider
ducks gladdened their hearts as they flew swiftly past. God had not only
guided them to a sheltered haven, but had assured them of abundant food
on the morrow. They were in the breeding home of the sea-fowl. Thus
comforted they lay down to sleep, though wet and hungry. They named
their providential harbor the "Weary Man's Rest," and remained in it
three days, eating until hunger was appeased, and gathering eggs at the
rate of twelve hundred a day, and laughing at the storms which roared
without.
On the fourth of July, after as much of a patriotic celebration as their
circumstances allowed, they again launched into the sea.
For some days they moved slowly south, but it was only by picking their
way through the leads, for they found the sea nearly closed. As they
approached Cape Dudley Digges their way was entirely closed. They pushed
into an opening that led to the bottom of its precipitous cliff. Here
they found a rocky shelf, overshadowed by the towering rocks, just large
enough and in the right position at high tide to make a platform on
which they could land their boats. Here they waited a whole week for the
ice toward Cape York to give way. The sea-fowl were abundant and of a
choice kind. The scurvy-killing cochlearia was at hand, which they ate
with their eggs. It was indeed a "providential halt," for the fact was
constantly forced upon them that they had come here, as they had to
"Weary Man's Rest," by no skill or knowledge of their own.
It was the eighteenth of July before the condition of the ice was such
as to make the renewal of their voyage possible. Two hundred and fifty
choice fowl had been skinned, cut open, and dried on the rocks, besides
a store of those thrown aboard as they were caught.
They now sailed along the coast, passing the "Crimson Cliffs" of Sir
John Ross. The birds were abundant, their halting-places on the shore
were clothed with green, and the fresh-water streams at which they
filled their vessels were pouring down from the glaciers. They built
great blazing fires of dry turf which cost nothing but the gathering.
After a day's hard rowing the sportsmen brought in fresh fowl, and,
gathered about their camp-fire, all ate, and then stretched themselves
on the moss carpet and slept. They enjoyed thankfully this Arctic Eden
all the more as they all knew that perils and privations were just
before them.
They wisely provided during these favored days a large stock of
provisions, amounting to six hundred and forty pounds, besides their
dried birds. Turf fuel, too, was taken on board for the fires.
They reached Cape York on the twenty-first of July. From this place they
were to try the dangers of Melville Bay, across which in their frail
boats they must sail. It had smiled upon their northward voyage; would
it favor their escape now? It certainly did not hold out to them
flattering promises. The inshore ice was solid yet, and terribly
hummocky. The open sea was far to the west, but along the margin of the
floe were leads, and fortunately there was one beginning where they had
halted. The boats were hauled up, examined, and as much as possible
repaired. The "Red Eric" was stripped, her cargo taken out, and her hull
held in reserve for fuel. A beacon was erected from which a red flannel
skirt was thrown as a pennant to the wind to attract attention. Under
this beacon records were left which told in brief the story of the
expedition. This done, and the blessing of God implored, the voyagers
entered the narrow opening in the ice.
For a while all went well, but one evening Dr. Kane was hastily called
on deck. The huge icebergs had bewildered the helmsman in the leading
boat, and he had missed the channel, and had turned directly toward the
shore until the boat was stopped by the solid floe. The lead through
which they had come had closed in their rear, and they were completely
entangled in the ice!
Without telling the men what had happened, the commander, under the
pretense of drying the clothes, ordered the boats drawn up, and a camp
was made on the ice.
In the morning Kane and M'Gary climbed a berg some three hundred feet
high. They were appalled by their situation; the water was far away, and
huge bergs and ugly hummocks intervened. M'Gary, an old-whaleman,
familiar from early manhood with the hardships of Arctic voyaging, wept
at the sight.
There was but one way out of this entanglement; the sledges must be
taken from the sides of the boats, where they had been hung for such
emergencies, the boats placed on them, and the old drag-rope practice
must be tried until the expedition reached the edge of the floe. One
sledge, that which bore the "Red Eric," had been used for fuel; so the
"Red Eric" itself was knocked to pieces, and stowed away for the same
use. About three days were consumed in thus toiling before they reached
the lead which they had left, launched once more into waters, and sailed
away before a fine breeze.
Thus far the boats had kept along the outer edge of the floe, following
the openings through the ice. But as this was slow work, though much
safer, they now ventured a while in the open sea farther west; but they
were driven back to the floe by heavy fogs, and on trying to get the
boats into a lead, one of those incidents occurred so often noticed, in
which God's hand was clearly seen. All hands were drawing up the "Hope,"
and she had just reached a resting-place on the floe, when-the "Faith,"
their best boat, with all their stores on board, went adrift. The sight
produced an almost panic sensation among the men. The "Hope" could not
possibly be launched in time to overtake her, for she was drifting
rapidly. But before they could collect their thoughts to devise the
means of her rescue, a cake of ice swung round, touched the floe where
they stood, reaching at the same time nearly to the "Faith," thus
bridging over the chasm. Instantly Kane and M'Gary sprung upon it, and
from it into the escaping boat. She was saved.