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North-Pole Voyages

<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>THE ESCAPING PARTY.</div> <div class='cap'>HAVING, as has been seen, provided for all the contingencies of our journey as well as circumstances permitted, we moved slowly down the ice-foot away from the brig. The companions we were leaving waved us a silent adieu. A strong resolution gave firmness to our step, but our way was too dark and perilous for lightness of heart. At ten miles distance we should reach a cape near which we expected to find open water, where we could exchange the heavy work of dragging the sledges for the pleasanter sailing in the boat. This we reached early the second day. But here we experienced our first keen disappointment. As far as the eye could reach was only ice. Before us, a thousand miles away, was Upernavik, at which we aimed, the first refuge of a civilized character in that direction. As we gazed at this intervening frozen wilderness it did indeed seem afar off. Yet every man stood firm through fourteen hours of toil before we encamped, facing a strong wind and occasional gusts of snow. After this the shelter of our tent, and a supper of cold pork and bread with hot coffee, made us almost forget the wind, which began to roar like a tempest.</div> We looked out in the morning, after a good night's[90] rest, hoping to see the broken floe fleeing before the gale, giving us our coveted open sea. But no change had taken place. We had no resort but to weary sledging. We carried forward our freight in small parcels, a mile on our journey, finally bringing up the boat. We took from under a cliff of the cape the boat "Forlorn Hope," which Dr. Kane had deposited there. It was damaged by the falling of a stone upon it from a considerable height. Petersen's skillful mending made it only a tolerable affair. Thus wearied and baffled in our efforts at progress, we returned early to our tent, and slept soundly until three o'clock in the morning, when we were aroused by shouting without. It came from three Esquimo, a boy eighteen years old, and two women. The boy we had before seen, but the women were strangers. They were filthy and ragged—in fact scarcely clothed at all. The matted hair of the women was tied with a piece of leather on the top of the head; the boy's hair was cut square across his eyebrows. One of the women carried a baby about six months old. It was thrust naked, feet foremost, into the hood of her jumper, and hung from the back of her neck. It peered innocently out of its hiding-place, like a little chicken from the brooding wing of its mother. They shivered with cold, and asked for fire and food, which we readily gave them, and they were soon off down the coast in good spirits. These visitors were only well started when Hans rushed into our camp, excited and panting for[91] breath. He was too full of wrath to command his poor English, and he rattled away to Petersen in his own language. When he had recovered somewhat his breath, we caught snatches of his exclamations as he turned to us with, "Smit Soun Esquimo no koot! no koot! all same dog! Steal me bag! steal Nalegak buffalo." The fact finally came out that our visitors had been to the brig and stolen, among other things, a wolf-skin bag and a small buffalo skin belonging to Hans, presents from Dr. Kane. Hans took a lunch, a cup of coffee, and continued his run after the thieves. The ice had now given way a little, and small leads opened near us. Loading the boat, we tried what could be done at navigation. But the water in the lead soon froze over and became too thick for boating, while yet it was too thin for sledging; so after trying various expedients we again unloaded the boats and took to the land-ice. But this was too sloping for the sledges, so we took our cargo in small parcels on our backs, carrying them forward a mile and a half, and finally bringing the sledges and boat. Bonsall had, on one of these trips, taken a keg of molasses on the back of his neck, grasping the two ends with his hands. This was an awkward position in which to command his footing along a sideling, icy path. His foot slipped, the keg shot over his head, and glided down into the sea. Coffee without molasses was not pleasant to think of, and then it was two hours after our day's work was done before we[92] could find even water. Our supper was not eaten and we ready to go to bed until ten. We slept the better, however, from hearing, just as we were retiring, that Bonsall and Godfrey had recovered the keg of molasses from four feet of water. The next morning we resolved to try the floe again. It was plain we could make no satisfactory progress on the land-ice, so we loaded first the small sledge and run it safely down the slippery slope. Then the large sledge, "Faith," was packed with our more valuable articles. Cautiously it was started, men in the rear holding it back by ropes. But the foothold of the men being insecure, they slipped, lost their control both of themselves and the sledge, and away it dashed. The ice as it reached the floe was thin; first one runner broke through, now both have gone down; over goes the freight, and the whole is plunged into the water! Fortunately every thing floated. A part of our clothes were in rubber bags and was kept dry; all else was thoroughly wet. No great damage was done except in one case. Petersen had a bed of eider-down, in which he was wont snugly to stow himself at night. When moving it was compressed into a ball no larger than his head. It was a nice thing, costing forty Danish dollars. It was, of course, spoiled. So rueful was his face that, though we really pitied him, we could not repress a little merriment as he held up his dripping treasure. Seeing a smile on Dr. Hayes's face, he hastily rolled it up into a wad, and, in the bitterness of his vexation, hurled it among the rocks,[93] muttering something in Danish, of which we could detect only the words "doctor" and "Satan." Our situation seemed gloomy enough. The men's courage was giving way, and one took a final leave and returned to the "Advance." Yet we pressed forward; we were not long in readjusting the load of the "Faith," and met with no further accident during the day; but our fourteen hours toil left us six more hours of ice-travel before we could reach what seemed to be a long stretch of clear sea. Hans returned from his pursuit, having overtaken the thieves, but did not find about them the stolen goods. He proposed to remain and help us, but we could go no farther that night. We encamped, and obtained much needed rest and sleep. We were awakened at midnight to a new and unexpected discouragement. M'Gary and Goodfellow arrived from the "Advance" bringing a peremptory order from Dr. Kane to bring back the "Faith." We could not understand this. We had been promised its use until we reached the open sea. We had only one other, which was very poor and utterly insufficient for our purpose. We were sure it was not needed at the brig; what could the order mean? But there it was in black and white, so we delivered it up, and the messengers returned with it on the instant. This journey of Goodfellow and M'Gary was a wonderful exhibition of endurance. They had worked hard all day; having eaten supper, they[94] were dispatched with the message. They were back to the brig to breakfast, having traveled in all to and fro thirty miles without food or rest. Our sledging, almost insufferable before, was more difficult now. Petersen exhausted his skill in improving our poor sledge with little success. We made about six miles during the day, gained the land at the head of Force Bay, and pitched our tent. We had shipped and unshipped our cargo, and had experienced the usual variety of boating and sledging. Several of us had broken through the ice and been thoroughly wet. Old rheumatic and scurvy complaints renewed their attacks upon the men. While the supper was cooking, three of the officers climbed a bluff and looked out upon the icy sea. To our joy they reported the open water only six miles away. With a good sledge we could reach it in one day's pull. With our shaky affair it would take three. Indeed, it seemed a hopeless task to make at all six miles with it. Such was the situation when our supper was eaten and we had lain down to sleep. Its solace had scarcely come to our relief when Morton's welcome voice startled us. He had come to bring back the "Faith." How timely! And then he brought also a satisfactory explanation of its being taken away. Dr. Kane had been informed that a dissension existed among us, and that the sledge was not in the hands of the officers. The next morning the good sledge "Faith" was loaded, and the men, now in good spirits, made fine speed toward the[95] open sea. Morton pushed on after the thieves. Late in the afternoon he returned with them. He had overtaken them where they had halted to turn their goods into clothing. They had thrown aside their rags, and were strutting proudly in the new garments they had made of the stolen skins. Morton soon left, with his prisoners, to return to the "Advance." We did not reach the open water until midnight. Every thing was now put on board the boat, and we sailed about two miles and drew up against Esquimo Point, pitched our tent on a grounded ice-raft, and obtained brief rest. In the morning, Riley, who had been sent to us for that purpose, returned to the "Advance" with the "Faith." We packed away eight men and their baggage in the "Forlorn Hope." It was an ordinary New London whale-boat rigged with a mainsail, foresail, and a jib. Her cargo and passengers on this occasion brought her gunwale within four inches of the water. But for five miles we made fine progress. Then suddenly the ice closed in upon us, compelling us to draw the "Hope" up upon a solid ice-raft, where we encamped for the night. Near was a stranded berg from which we obtained a good supply of birds, of which we ate eight for supper. In the morning, while our breakfast was cooking, the ice scattered and a path for us through the sea was again opened, and we bore away joyously for the capes of "Refuge Harbor." With varying fortune, we passed under the walls of[96] Cape Heatherton, and sighted the low lands of Life-boat Bay. There, as has been stated, in August, 1853, Dr. Kane left a Francis metallic life-boat. Could we reach this bay and possess ourselves of this life-boat, a great step would have been taken, we thought, toward success. For awhile all went well; then came the shout from the officer on the lookout, "Ice ahead!" We run down upon it before a spanking breeze, and got into the bend of a great horseshoe, while seeking an open way through the floe. We could turn neither to the right nor left, and we were too deep in the water to attempt to lay-to. The waves rolled higher and higher, and the breeze was increasing to a tempest. Our cargo, piled above the sides of the boat, left no room to handle the oars, if they had been of any use. There was no resort but to let her drive against the floe. John sat in the stern, steering-oar in hand; Petersen stood on the lookout to give him steering orders; Bonsall and Stephenson stood by the sails; the rest of us, with boat-hooks and poles, stood ready to "fend off." The sails were so drawn up as to take the wind out of them. Petersen directed the boat's head toward that part of the ice which seemed weakest, and on we bounded. "'See any opening, Petersen!' 'No sir.' An anxious five minutes followed, 'I see what looks like a lead. We must try for it.' 'Give the word, Petersen.' On flew the boat. 'Let her fall off a little—off! Ease off the sheet—so—steady! A little more off—so! Steady there—steady as she goes.'"[97] Petersen, cool and skillful, was running us through a narrow lead which brought us into a small opening of clear water. We were beginning to think that we should get through the pack when he shouted, "I see no opening! Tight every-where! Let go the sheet! Fend off." Thump went the boat against the floe! But the poles and boat-hooks, in strong, steady hands, broke the force of the collision. Out sprang every man upon the ice. No serious damage was done to our craft. Our first thought was that we were in a safe, ice-bound harbor. But no! See, the floe is on the move! We unshipped the cargo in haste, and drew up the "Hope" out of the way of the nips. The stores were next removed farther from the water's edge, the spray beginning to sprinkle them. The whole pack was instantly in wild confusion, ice smiting ice, filling the air with dismal sounds. But it was a moment for action, not of moping fear. Our ice-raft suddenly separated, the crack running between the cargo and the "Hope!" This would not do! A boat without a cargo, or a cargo without a boat, were neither the condition of things we desired; but as the ice bearing the boat shot into the surging water, it was evident no human power could hinder it. Yet divine power could and did prevent it—just that Hand always so ready to help us in our time of need, and seeming now almost visible. The boat's raft, after whirling in the eddying waters, swung round, and struck one corner of ours. In a minute of time the "Hope"[98] was run off, and boat, cargo, and men were once more together. Soon the commotion brought down a heavy floe against that on which we had taken refuge, and no open water was within a hundred yards of us[99]. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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