ICE AND MORE ICE
After we had been in port a good part of the morning, the _Peary_
hoisted anchor and started towards the mouth of the harbor, and we
needs must follow suit. In the meantime we had loaded up with water
and had had a brief rest from our sea voyage. We wanted to reach Etah
on August 1st at the latest, and as it was then well along in July it
was necessary to make as much haste as was convenient. Therefore, we
pushed straight on from Disko Island to South Upernavik as fast as wind
and tide would permit us. There the _Peary_ joined us loaded deep with
coal--the last she would obtain until her return from the far north.
At this town we saw our first exhibition of the remarkable dexterity of
the Greenlanders in their frail skin-boats, known as “kayaks.” These
craft are about eighteen feet long and twenty inches wide. In them the
natives can go out in any kind of a sea, and if a wave capsizes the
boat they can right themselves with a few skilled strokes of their
paddles, or if they lose the paddle, a twist of the body will suffice.
To keep water from seeping in while they are head downward, a tight
sealskin shirt is worn. This laces tightly at both wrists and around
the head, thus forming a water-tight seam. Furthermore, it tightly
buttons to the cockpit coaming of the kayak, making another water-tight
fit. Thus the man constitutes almost a part of the boat, and the
marvellous feats they perform with this rig can be appreciated only by
witnessing these aquatic demonstrations.
We were all very anxious to land to see how the people lived, but on
account of the prevalence of whooping cough, the government would not
permit us to do so. At Godhavn also this condition prevailed, and we
had been allowed to go ashore only for water. Our desire to land was
further whetted by a view of many gaudily dressed maidens emerging
from church, as the day was Sunday. They were all decked out in
elaborate finery, and through the glass they seemed quite attractive.
But discipline is discipline, and we were obliged to forego any closer
association with these alluring sirens.
The morning after the _Peary_ arrived from the coal mines, we set sail
for Melville Bay. The very prospect of entering this dread stretch
of water was a challenge. Here in the _Fox_, McClintock had been
imprisoned in the ice for a year and drifted for over a thousand miles.
In 1834, thirty-four whaling vessels were crushed in the pack. Thoughts
of such events were far from comforting, and I could not help wondering
how our little vessels would fare in the relentless ice. If they were
crushed we would be left to retreat as best we could to Upernavik. To
become imprisoned for a year would also necessitate the abandonment
of the vessels as we had been able to make room for only four months’
provisions, because of the space occupied by the aeroplane equipment.
But I had confidence in our craft and in our leaders, and I looked
forward with an untroubled mind to the thrilling work of ice navigation
(such is the assurance of youth).
The Commander had determined to take what is known as the Middle
Passage which is directly through the centre of the pack. Therefore, we
pushed out boldly from Upernavik and laid our course straight for Cape
York--the northern terminus of the Bay and the goal of all who attempt
its navigation.
Without sighting any ice we sailed along for some hours. We soon
entered a dense fog, and the visibility became very poor. In a short
while we began to pass innumerable icebergs. Weaving in and out among
the bergs, always vigilant, always tense, we continued on into the
Arctic wastes. During this anxious period I was on lookout, and my
every minute was occupied in watching for the bergs and directing the
helmsman how to avoid them. Out of the white background of the fog
these sinister mountains of ice would emerge, first as a thin black
line on the sea’s surface; then taking shape until high above they
towered, grey and lustreless. On all sides they appeared, until the
sea was like a boulder-strewn plain through which we threaded our mazy
way. Now and then one would disintegrate or capsize with a mighty roar
suggestive of a bombardment of artillery, and we would rise and fall on
the ensuing swell.
After we had been in this field of bergs for some time, I began to
notice occasional little cakes of ice. Soon these increased in number
until there was a regular fleet of them. Then as suddenly as they
had appeared they disappeared, and we were in open water with only a
fugitive berg here and there. I thought to myself that the ancient
mariners had greatly exaggerated the terrors of the ice field when
just as it seemed thickening to a degree where our progress would
really be impeded, it suddenly was dissipated. But this superior
contempt for the old salts did not long hold sway. Gradually a dark,
ragged line broke the even white of the enshrouding mist. My first
thought was that it was a low berg or “growler” as they are called,
but it continued opening out along the horizon until I saw that it was
too large for a single berg. Then in a flash it dawned on me that here
was the Arctic pack! I watched attentively. Shortly it merged into
well-defined pans with thin leads between.
Immediately the Commander clambered aloft to survey the situation.
Seeing a favorable opening he directed the helmsman to head her for it.
In another second we had passed the outer portals of the pack and had
at least entered upon the great ordeal of the expedition. Here even
the delay of several weeks would defeat the aims of the expedition,
as the short northern summer would be over and the season for flying
terminated. If the winds blew from the southward our situation would
be precarious in the extreme, and only a kind providence could keep us
from an untimely end. Even a few hours of ice pressure against the
_Peary’s_ sides might easily open her seams, and leave her a leaking
hulk.
Our watch continued working the vessel through the leads until
midnight, when the port watch came on deck. As I lay in my forecastle
bunk in the eerie half-light of the northern midnight I could hear the
crash of the vessel smashing her way forward through the fog over the
encroaching pans. My berth was well up in the bow, and as each blow
smote the planking it seemed as if the next surely would stave the bow.
But the sturdy oak withstood all onslaughts, and soon the dread sounds
became sweet music, and I fell asleep.
When I came on deck the next morning, the vessel was lying moored to a
pan as the fog had become so thick that it was impossible to discern
the weak spots in the ice. As the fog showed no signs of lifting,
the Commander proffered a suggestion. We were to go on a seal hunt!
Therefore, we took down our guns and set forth at once. I went along
with Abie, as I figured that he would know where to find the quarry
from his long association with them in Labrador. For some time we
tramped across the ice. Then Abie suddenly turned with a signal for
silence. I followed the direction of his eyes and saw a small dark
object floating in the open water of the lead. Silently he unlimbered
his rifle, took deliberate aim, and dispatched a ball through the
animal’s head. His was a perfect shot and made in the one essential
spot, since it is necessary to shoot a seal through the head or its
dying reflex action will expel the air from its lungs thus causing it
to sink. After we saw that the shot had been properly placed and the
animal was going to float, I dashed back to the ship to obtain a small
boat and a harpoon. The harpoon was soon procured and I sprang into
the boat. Just then Byrd and McDonald sauntered over from the _Peary_.
Seeing what was up they climbed in with me to recover the prize. I
rowed as hard as I could down the lead, since I was fearful that our
trophy would sink. A short pull brought us to the spot, and one of the
men seized the harpoon and lunged with all his might. But he struck
the seal across the hair and the harpoon glanced off, while under the
impetus of the blow the seal sank about ten feet. My heart sank with
him. Slowly, however, he emerged, and this time with Abie bellowing
advice, the harpoon was firmly affixed and we drew our victim out on
the ice. It was a young seal, not much larger than a roasting pig. Abie
decided that it would make tender eating; so he set about skinning it.
After the skinning and cleaning was completed, we stowed the seal in
the boat and departed for the ship.
Meanwhile several of the other boys had scattered over the floes,
Dick Salmon being hull down some distance away. As the fog had begun
to rot out, it was decided to get under weigh immediately. Therefore
the recall signal was sounded from the _Peary’s_ siren, and the boys
came scurrying back. Poor Dick, however, had an intervening lead open
between him and the vessel; so he was forced to hang up until he
could find a place to cross. Seeing his plight, the Commander ran the
_Bowdoin_ down towards him, and just as the lead again closed he came
down on him and picked him up.
We were now nearly in the centre of the pack, and with clearer skies
our hopes of getting clear of the pack began to rise. Steadily we
forged to the northward through the thick pans. So far there had been
little wind, and the ice had not packed together very heavily. Towards
evening, however, under the influence of the tide, the ice began to
pack, and the _Bowdoin_ was caught in a nip. We were jammed as if in
a vise, between two great floes of ice. Robbie was in charge as the
Commander had gone aboard the _Peary_ to con her through the ice.
Immediately Robbie ordered us out on the ice to try to break away the
jagged edges which threatened to impale us. We pounded away with heavy
timbers and managed to break off several sharp points, thus making an
easier berth for the vessel. But try as we would, we could neither go
forward nor backward. The _Peary_ observing our situation swung around
and came ramming back to our aid. With the tremendous blows of her
massive bow, she planed off great pieces of the floes until finally she
broke through to our relief. In a short time, however, she herself was
inextricably caught. The pressure was considerable, and the _Peary_
assumed a list of five or six degrees.
Dr. Koelz soon came over to the _Bowdoin_ in royal bad humor,
complaining that the grinding of the ice against the side of the
_Peary_ had prevented him from sleeping. Furthermore, on trying to
leave his cabin, the pressure had so contracted the vessel that he
found his door so jammed it would not open, and the combined efforts
of three men were necessary to liberate the Doctor who came aboard the
_Bowdoin_ for refuge. Long afterwards we discovered that the vessel
had contracted several inches from the tremendous pressure.
In a few hours the tide again shifted, and to our great relief the
vessel was freed of the pressure. Then we again got under weigh, and
were soon ploughing along at a good rate of speed, considering the
handicaps under which we labored. At this time we began to wonder where
we were, as for some days we had been unable to determine our position
by observation, because of the thick weather.
For five days we had been at sea. We had encountered heavy fogs,
icebergs and the savage pack, and we had come through safe and
undaunted. Now as the weather was clearing, our wonder as to where we
were increased. Had some fell current swept us far from our course?
Had our many zigzags in the ice carried us in circles? Where were we
indeed? The weather continued to clear until we could discern the blue
sky overhead and the pale iceblink all around. Then the Commander, with
his glass clapped on the northern horizon, suddenly became aware of a
dark streak in the even white of the iceblink.
“Land clouds,” said the Commander, as he swept them with his
binoculars.
Land clouds they indeed seemed to be, and all eyes were thenceforth
strained to catch a view of the land itself. Meanwhile the man aloft
had been saying little and looking much. Suddenly rang out the
long-hoped-for cry, “Land ho!”
In thirty seconds every man who could scramble to a place in the
rigging was there, and each was eager to spy out the distant peaks
which soon came into view. Immediately we put on full speed in order
to reach them before the ice should again become impassable. As if
some wayward spirit had sensed our wish, the floes came crunching and
sliding into a compact mass, rendering futile all attempts to proceed.
We were therefore regretfully forced to lose more precious hours. These
hours were doubly precious as it was already July 31st, and every hour
counted if we were to reach our destination on our scheduled date,
August 1st.
As I looked out over the slowly drifting ice, with its unending white
broken only by the thin dark lines of the ever-opening and closing
leads, towards the rugged cliffs on the far horizon, standing like grim
sentries at the portals of the North, I wondered why we had come. Why
had this company left all that was dearest to them; their loved ones;
their congenial firesides; the labors in which until so recently they
had been engrossed? Why had we endured the perils of wind, and sea and
ice, borne discomforts and hardships, sacrificed personal ease and
safety? For what had we sailed three thousand miles across tractless
seas? For a moment it seemed utter folly to have come all this distance
for things that at best appeared vague and indistinct! We had all
been in comfort and safety at home. For what conceivable reason would
intelligent men turn their backs on these pretentious inducements?
For a moment I pondered. Suddenly in my mind’s eye I saw another ice
waste not dissimilar to this one, and I visioned other hills, this
time in the west, hills on which no human eye had rested--our quest.
Then three small specks clove the deep blue of the eastern sky. Soon
the hum of engines echoed from berg and hummock, and they resolved
into aeroplanes--our planes. Nearer they soared, over the first range
of hills. Then they wheeled about and soon receded into the endless
vault of heaven whence they had come. My heart leaped within me. I knew
why we had come. In our blood surged the age-old spirit of adventure
which drove the first Viking to the Arctic seas; which sent Columbus
across the terror-strewn western ocean; which lured Sir John Franklin
to his lonesome grave. I felt my blood flow fast. The same old urge
had gripped me, and obedient to its demands I, too, had joined the
adventurous throng and seen home and ease fade astern as the vessel’s
prow pointed for the unknown lands over the horizon’s edge.