THROUGH THE PACK TO DISASTER
It was with regret that at dawn on the day following we bade farewell
to Battle Harbor and the hospitable Grenfell workers and squared away
for Hopedale whence we would make the long leg to Greenland. While
on the way to Hopedale we crossed the mouth of Hamilton Inlet, a
great fiord or arm of the sea that penetrates the land for a hundred
miles. From this fiord extends a river containing one of the largest
waterfalls in the world, the Grand Falls of the Hamilton River.
Early the next morning we were off Cape Harrison at the northern end
of the inlet. Here we began to notice scattered cakes of ice drifting
out to sea--“Gone abroad,” as the Newfoundlanders say. Soon the
scattered fragments became thicker, and a full-fledged field of pack
ice presented itself to our vision.
The Commander ascended to the crow’s nest to survey the situation and
con the ship through the ice. As this pack barred the entrance to
Hopedale it was necessary to go through it, and the Commander seeing a
likely lead--a lane of open water between the ice cakes--ordered the
wheel put hard aport. The vessel rapidly swung around until her bow was
directed down the lead. “Steady!” was the next command from aloft, and
the helmsman spun the wheel in the opposite direction as hard as he
could until she checked in her swing. She rapidly traversed the lead
which soon terminated in a solid cake of ice. Straight on continued the
_Bowdoin_ like a hunter for a jump. Soon her rounded bow was almost
in contact with the ice, and in another second she had struck it fair
and square. Her prow leaped up on the pan, and I leaned over the prow
thinking that surely she would never be able to force her way through
such a large cake of ice. But driven by her powerful engine, her bow
glided straight up. Then she slowly came to a halt with her bow well
up on the ice. With breathless interest we watched to see whether she
had the weight to crush it. Just as we were preparing to back out and
hit it again, a thin line of black broke the even white. She had made
it! The great cake was rent asunder by our sturdy little vessel, and
she slowly gained way until she leaped forward with increasing rapidity
at the next obstacle which dared to bar her way. Thus we continued
weaving in and out, now to port and now to starboard, wherever a lead
opened, and where there was none smashing our way. Good judgment and
a knowledge of ice conditions are required in ice navigation on the
part of the man aloft, and the helmsman must possess the ability to
follow orders rapidly and efficiently and be able to keep the ship from
brushing the sides of narrow passages. Spinning that wheel frequently
and for all one is worth is no joke, and even in that cold, stripped
down to my underwear, I sweated like a pack mule before I had been at
it for long.
All day we ploughed through the pack with the _Peary_ near by. She was
under a disadvantage in having a straight bow and in not maneuvering
as readily as we did, but her superior engine power in a large measure
compensated for this. As darkness slowly fell I was struck by the
absence of any friendly light twinkling a welcome through the dusk,
such as one sees in friendlier climes. Nothing but rocks, ice, sky and
water--not even a tree or fisherman’s hut to vary the monotony of those
barren cliffs. What a contrast to the ceaseless activity of The Hill
with its life and action, its cheering bleachers at the games and its
humming classrooms--never a moment there when one feels that sense of
utter detachment from one’s fellow man which oppressed me in viewing
the bleak Labrador. The utter desolation of it all brought thoughts
of School and Home with their warmth and life and cheer. Suddenly I
found myself shivering violently, and with a start I returned to the
immediate present. Turning away from the fading landscape I hastened to
the companionship of my mates in the warm, well-lighted forecastle.
The following morning we were away early and were soon clear of the
last of the ice and were bound up Flagstaff Tickle on the way to
Hopedale, the southernmost settlement of the Eskimos. Despite the fact
that these waters are poorly charted, we experienced no difficulty in
keeping the channel until we were almost in Hopedale. Then out of a
clear sky, grim disaster descended upon us. We were skirting a small
reef which jutted a considerable way into the Sound when suddenly the
bow of the _Peary_ made an abrupt ascent; then she slowly assumed a
list. Immediately the Commander ordered the _Bowdoin’s_ helm put hard
down. In a moment more we were flying down wind to the aid of our
stricken companion. She had struck on a sunken ledge of rock which gave
no indication of its presence until the vessel’s keel had touched. At
once we came alongside, which our comparatively shallow draft rendered
safe, and after rigging a masthead line we steamed slowly away to see
if we could pull her off. Calm and cool as always, Captain Steele
ordered the lowering of a small boat in order to run out a kedge anchor.
Meanwhile we ran out the slack in the line and gradually took up a
strain. But owing to a strong wind assisting the efforts of our engine,
no sooner had the line come taut than it snapped. Captain Steele was
now manfully striving to work his boat to windward. Seeing his plight
we steamed over to give the lifeboat a tow. In a few moments we had
it in the proper position, and let go the anchor. Then we ran down
and placed a line over the _Peary’s_ stern to try to haul her off in
that manner. During this time the lifeboat had returned and was hauled
up on a short bight astern while her crew disembarked. In the stern
of the small boat stood Commander McDonald awaiting his turn to get
aboard the _Peary_. In some unaccountable manner the lifeboat caught
under the counter of the ship, and a sea suddenly jammed her against
the plates. As she could rise no farther, the waves poured over her
gunwales and swamped her. McDonald shouted to those on deck to drop the
boat aft, but she had become so waterlogged that they could do nothing
with her, and each succeeding wave forced her farther and farther down.
All yelled for him to jump while the jumping was good, but he still
maintained his position in a manner reminiscent of the boy who stood
on the burning deck. In spite of the Commander’s heroic pose, the boat
gradually sank, and in a second more it began to roll over. With one
wild leap he left his sinking craft to its fate, caught a hold on the
bulwarks and was pulled aboard the _Peary_.
In the meantime, the deck of the _Peary_ became a scene of wild
excitement. Everyone stood around on the deck with their bags packed,
apparently convinced that the boat was going down. But their fears were
vain. Under the combined influence of a rising tide, our pulling and
the kedge anchor, she began slowly to slide off the ledge, and in a
few moments she was once more safe afloat.
We then went in search of the submerged lifeboat which had slowly
drifted away during the intervening time. We soon came upon her
drifting bottom upwards. To rescue the boat was somewhat of a problem,
since there was nothing visible to which we could make fast. By
skillful maneuvering, however, Captain MacMillan brought us alongside,
and we strove desperately to get a line on her. But the winds and the
waves unfortunately separated us, and we had the whole operation to
do over again. The next time we approached her a sudden gust of wind
swerved our bow just enough to hit her a crashing blow, seriously
damaging her.
That misfortune, however, was not the worst that befell us that
afternoon, for, as we strove to clear the boat, our propeller struck
one of her spare fittings thereby stripping her internal gears. At
the time we were unaware of the damage, and the propellor continued
turning, seemingly uninjured. We at last managed to corral the
unruly lifeboat and then set our course for Hopedale. It had been a
harrowing afternoon, but all in all we had much to be thankful for. Our
misfortunes were nothing compared to what they would have been if the
tide had been falling, and the _Peary_ had been unable to float off.
For being a steel ship, she would have filled and become a total loss
when the tide began to flow.