Arctic Adventures

We had not got a quarter of a mile, when, looking astern, we saw that the spot where we had floated was one sheet of ice.

“Better luck, next time,” said our skipper, who was always anxious to encourage the men.

That luck however was not for us. The lead as we advanced became blocked up with floating masses, some of them monster icebergs, amid which we forced our way until the wind dropped.

The boats were now sent ahead, some to tow, others to shove away with long poles the ice which impeded our progress. At length we reached an ice-hole, when the boats being hoisted on board, we made sail, hoping to find a lead on the opposite side, but we were to be disappointed – no opening could be discovered.

We, as usual, made fast to a floe, and the captain after a visit to the crow’s nest, expressed his intention of returning southward.

The announcement was received with a cheer by the crew, but there was no wind, and we had to wait for a breeze to carry us back the way we had come. That way was, however, no longer open: the pools were lessening in size, and in a few hours not a single spot of clear water could be seen.

Again and again the crow’s nest was visited, but each time the same report was brought. It was very evident that we were closely beset. Still our brave captain did not despair, and promised that, should the ice open again, it would not be his fault if the ship failed to make her way through it.

The object of the voyage, for the time, was entirely forgotten, all we thought of was to effect our escape. Never for a minute night or day was the crow’s nest empty, some one being always on the look-out to report the state of the ice. I frequently went aloft. Ice alone was visible in whichever way I looked: here piled into immense masses, huge fragments of glaciers detached from the neighbouring shores either of Greenland or Spitzbergen; there broken hummocky slabs resting against each other in every variety of form; or else vast level plains, over which it appeared that a sleigh might travel for miles without impediment; but water there was none, and I could scarcely hope that that frozen expanse would ever again break up sufficiently to allow us to force our way through. We knew that at all events we should have to encounter, to the southward, the numberless icebergs and the dense floes through which we had before passed. Had we found my brother David I fancied that I should have been happy, but his fate was still shrouded in mystery, and even if we escaped we should have to return without him.

The sun now remained between two and three hours below the horizon, but, short as was the night, the holes we had bored to obtain water were frozen over in the morning. Still we hoped that an equinoctial storm might break up the ice-fields and set us free. Before, however, we had been many days in this position, a dark streak was seen to the southward.

“There’s water there,” observed the captain with confidence in his tone; “it may be the open ocean.”

Almost immediately afterwards other tracks were seen indicating leads through the ice, and at length some appeared so near that the captain determined to open a passage through our floe to reach them by blasting and sawing. Hope revived within us that we should get through. Laborious as was the process, we persevered. Every fathom gained made us fancy that we were so much nearer liberty. The wished-for storm at length began to blow; the ice broke up. All the sail the ship could bear was spread, and away we steered with her head to the southward. What cared we now for the thundering blows received on her stout bows. We were determined to be free. Freedom we believed we should obtain, when to our dismay the first mate, who had gone aloft, announced a dense floe with icebergs ahead: to run against, it would have ensured our destruction, and we were compelled to steer to leeward of a floe, when, furling all sail, we made fast to it. The wind falling, a dense fog came on. The sounds which reached us showed that the ice was still in violent commotion, and, in the hopes that a passage might be found, the captain dispatched two of the boats to try and find a way.

I went with the first mate. We had gone some distance, when he announced that he saw an opening, and immediately headed the boat towards it. Looking up we could see a huge iceberg towering above our heads. We had great hopes that we had entered a lane through which the ship might pass, but the thickness of the atmosphere prevented us from seeing far ahead. The mate however was convinced that he was right, and we were about to put back when again the wind began to blow with a violence far greater than before, and the sea tossed and tumbled, moving the mass of ice about in a manner which threatened our destruction. The turbulence of the waters proved that the mate was correct in regard to there being an open sea to the southward, and we bent to our oars with all our strength, that we might return to the ship, and take advantage of the opening.

I remember that we were passing close under an iceberg, when I heard a terrific crash, and all was dark, and I knew that I was beneath the water. By a violent effort I rose to the surface, and the next instant found I was clinging to the ice. The force of the sea threw me still further on the berg until I was beyond the reach of the waves.

My position was awful in the extreme. The snow began to fall, driving against me with fearful force. I looked round but could nowhere see the boat or my companions. I alone had been saved from instant death, to perish, I believed, in a more lingering manner.

I expected ere long to drop off into the sea or to be frozen to death, still I resolved to struggle for life. How the time passed I could not judge. Every moment seemed an hour. Looking round, the fall of snow seemed lessened, and I caught sight of the ship. It appeared to me in the indistinct light that she was being dashed furiously against the berg, and that her destruction was inevitable. Should she founder I knew that my chance of life was slight indeed. I felt inclined to slip off and terminate my suffering at once, rather than attempt to cling on until overpowered by the cold; but I felt that it was my duty to prolong my existence to the last, and I did my best to secure myself by placing my feet on a ledge below me. I was conscious, however, that my mental and physical powers were both failing me. I looked for the ship, but could nowhere see her. Had she, with my brother and all hands, foundered? Such appeared too probable. Dreadful was the thought. I was fast sinking into insensibility when I heard a hail, and on looking down saw Sandy with an ice-pole in his hand, clambering up the berg towards me. In another moment his arm was around my waist, and I knew no more until I found myself in the boat and heard my preserver shout —

“Shove off, lads, he’ll come round in time.”

Opening my eyes I saw that the boat was pulling away from the berg, but I could nowhere perceive the ship. Were my fears then for her realised? I wanted to ask Sandy, but it seemed as if the power to speak had left me. Again and again I tried, but my lips refused to move.

“What is it, laddie?” asked Sandy, perceiving the efforts I was making, as he bent down his ear for a moment to my mouth.

I managed to utter “The ship.”

“She’s all right,” he returned; “she managed to weather the berg, and is now brought up to leeward of the floe, but she had a narrow scrape of it, and we thought for certain that she’d be knocked to pieces.”

My mind felt greatly relieved, but Sandy having to attend to the steering of the boat I could not again attract his attention. I was anxious to know what had become of the boat. I did not suppose it possible that she could have escaped. After some time I managed to utter the word “boat” loud enough for him to hear me.

“It is a sad business, the poor fellows are all lost. We saw the wreck dashing against the base of the floe, and that drew our attention to you. Although we saw you at a distance we at first took you for a seal.”

I asked no further questions. Some twenty minutes or more passed away before we reached the side of the ship. It was surprising that during the time I did not perish from cold. I was hoisted on board, and Andrew had me carried below immediately and put to bed with warm appliances to my feet and chest. At first I suffered great pain, but at length I began to feel a sensation of comfort and dropped off to sleep. I afterwards found that Sandy’s boat had not gone back to the ship as I supposed, but that the foggy weather clearing off she had got under weigh, hoping to find some channel, and that she had discovered the one we were attempting to pass through when the mass of ice had fallen upon us.

On awaking I felt greatly recovered, but my brother would not allow me to leave my bed. I observed that he looked very grave. I inquired if anything had happened.

“The loss of the first mate and the boat’s crew is a serious matter,” he answered, “but our own position is critical in the extreme. We have failed to get through among the icebergs, and are now passing through a lead to the westward. It is possible that we may get out by it, but if not we shall, too probably, be beset for the winter.”

“We’ll get through, doctor, don’t be cast down,” exclaimed the captain, who had overheard my brother’s remark. “We must keep up the spirits of the men, they’re rather low at having lost so many of our shipmates.”

I knew from the sounds that the ship was still making way. Sooner than Andrew had expected I was all to rights. On once more going on deck, I found that the captain was in the crow’s nest, looking out for a further lead, of which, from where I stood, nothing could be seen. There were a few water-holes and openings in the ice, none of them, except the one in which we floated, being wide enough to admit the ship. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, and a night of three hours’ duration was approaching. The captain on coming down ordered the ice-anchors to be carried to the floe to windward, and the ship to be made fast.

“We shall be out of this in a few hours, lads, I hope,” he said. “The ice will open again soon, though at present I see no lead to follow.”

Andrew sent me below soon after this. I was struck, when awaking at night, with the perfect silence which prevailed everywhere. It was evident we were not moving. The next morning when I went on deck, to my dismay I found that the pool in which we floated was completely frozen over. The crew were cutting away the ice from round the ship. It was thick enough to bear them. While they were thus employed, the floes around them began to move, emitting a rustling sound, or perhaps I might liken it to a suppressed roar. The ice in the pool cracked in all directions, and one slab was forced over another. The violence of the movement increased on every side. We could see huge masses of ice rushing together, one being piled over the other, until the appearance of the surface became completely changed. Every moment it seemed as if the ship herself would be nipped. The ice tumbled and tossed about in a most fearful manner, filling the air with shrieks and howls, for I can liken the noise it produced to nothing else. The hitherto level floes became piled up into mountainous masses, towering many fathoms above the deck. We could do nothing to preserve the ship. The captain, believing that any moment might be her last, ordered the crew to bring their bags and the provisions which we always kept ready for such a catastrophe up on deck. Should the ship be crushed where could we go for safety? The boats would be destroyed if placed on the ice. Though we might escape to it, we could only expect to be utterly overwhelmed.

We could now see water round us in various directions, but we were too closely beset to obtain any chance, unless some lane should unexpectedly open by which we might reach one of the pools to the southward. In about a couple of hours, however, the commotion ceased, but as it did so our chance of escape lessened. The cold became greater than we had yet felt it, and every floe and mass of ice was soon securely bound together. Although we had not had time to form a dock, one made by nature had preserved us.

Next day there was no change, except that the distant lanes and pools appeared to be closed. Although our captain must have seen that there was a great probability of our having to winter in the ice, he was unwilling to dishearten the crew by preparations until it was absolutely necessary. We, in the meantime, for the sake of taking exercise, made excursions over the ice, generally accompanied by some dogs.

Of course we carried our rifles, and Sandy, with some of the men, took their harpoons, on the chance of finding a seal or walrus on the ice or coming up to breathe through a water-hole. Ewen and Croil and I set off from the ship one morning, expecting to shoot some snow-buntings or other birds, or perhaps, should we get near a water-hole, to kill a seal. We carried provisions with us, as the air invariably made us hungry. The captain had charged us not on any account to lose sight of the ship. We had gone on and on, looking back every now and then, seeing her clearly enough. At last Ewen proposed that we should sit down under the lee of a huge hummock and take our lunch. Croil and I were perfectly willing to do this. We had finished our repast, which as may be supposed did not take us very long, when Ewen, looking up, exclaimed, “Where is the ship?”

She was not to be seen.

“Stay! I’ll climb to the top of this ice-hill, and I shall soon make her out from thence,” said Ewen, placing his rifle against a block of ice near the spot where he commenced his ascent. He found the task a pretty hard one.

“Perhaps we shall find it more easy on the other side,” I observed to Croil.

We both moved on, looking out for a part which we could both more readily climb up. We were not disappointed; it seemed so easy, indeed, that, slinging our rifles over our backs, we made our way up, expecting to meet Ewen at the top. We had nearly reached it, when we heard him shout out —

“Hugh, Croil, take care. I see a large bear coming along; he’ll be up to us presently.”

We looked in the direction Ewen pointed, and there, sure enough, we saw a large shaggy monster coming along leisurely, and sniffing the air as if he had scented us. Croil and I waited until Ewen joined us.

“We must shoot him, or perhaps he’ll manage to make a dinner off one of us,” I exclaimed.

“Dear me, and I left my rifle at the bottom of the hummock,” cried Ewen.

“Then stay where you are, and Croil and I will see what we can do,” I answered. “Should I miss, Croil, do you take a steady aim, while I retreat and reload.”

This was agreed on, and we descended the hummock to a spot whence we thought we could take a better aim at the bear. Just as we reached it, what was our surprise to see Master Bruin seize Ewen’s rifle and begin to walk off with it, looking round cunningly as he did so, as if perfectly aware that he was carrying off the means we possessed of injuring him.

“Fire! fire!” cried Ewen, “or I shall lose my gun.”

Ewen’s voice made the bear stop, and I advanced as fast as I could, being partially concealed by a projection of the hummock. Taking a steady aim, I pulled the trigger. My bullet struck the bear on the shoulder. He instantly dropped the rifle, and, turning round with a fierce growl, bit at the wound, but did not attempt to run off. This enabled me to reload. Fortunate it was that I had time to do so, for Croil, not being a good shot, missed; when the bear, growling horribly, and showing his teeth, began to move towards us; then, sitting up on his hind paws, he looked about him to make us out more clearly. I told Croil to reload and to stand by me with his rifle, that I might use it should my next shot not take effect. I prayed that my aim might be steady, and fired. Croil and Ewen raised a shout of joy as they saw the bear roll over, kicking his legs in the air. We let him kick, while I again got my rifle ready for action. We then advanced, intending to put the bear out of its misery, while Ewen, slipping down from the top of the ice-hill, ran to possess himself of his gun. The bear’s struggles, however, soon ceased, and we had not to expend any further powder and shot upon him.

“How are we to get him to the ship?” exclaimed Croil.

“Where is the ship, rather?” I asked.

“I saw her clearly enough from the top of the hummock,” said Ewen. “I was going to cry out when I saw the bear. We may drag the carcase part of the way, and then get some of the men to come and cut it up, and transport the remainder on their shoulders,” said Ewen.

This plan was agreed to; by going round the hummock we could see the ship, though she appeared a long way off. We hoped, however, by returning with so valuable a prize, we should be excused for having gone further than we ought to have done. We found that it was no easy matter to drag along the huge carcase over the ice, even where the surface of the floe was perfectly smooth. At last we had to give up the task, but how we were to find our way back to where we had left the bear was the difficulty, as the fur could not be distinguished at any great distance. At last Croil produced a red handkerchief from his pocket, which we secured to the end of a pole we had carried for the purpose of trying the ice. He then stuck it through the bear’s body, with the iron head fixed in the ice. Though the bear could not be seen, the handkerchief could be distinguished at a long distance off. We were pretty well tired when we got back to the ship, and the captain was beginning to find fault with us for having gone so far, when we told him of the bear, and he immediately sent four hands, under the command of Sandy, to bring it in, or at all events the skin, and as much of his flesh as they could carry. We three offered to set off with them, but I was secretly not sorry when the captain remarked that we had taken enough exercise for one day, and ordered us to go below and get some rest.

It was getting dark when Sandy’s party returned with our prize, cut up, however, into bits. They were received with a cordial welcome, as all hands were glad to get some fresh meat, which we had not tasted for many a long day.