Chapter 6

The fact of the "North Star" having wintered last year in Wolstenholme Sound, or "Petowack," was elicited, and that the natives had been on board of her. The "Assistance" and "Intrepid," therefore, remained to visit that neighbourhood, whilst we proceeded to the south shore of Lancaster Sound, touching, as had been pre-arranged, at Pond's Bay and Cape Possession.

Steaming along the Crimson Cliffs for a second time, we left the "Lady Franklin" and "Sophia," in a stark calm, to do their best. Fewer ships, the faster progress; and heartily did all cheer when, at midnight, we turned to the N.W., leaving the second division to do their work in Wolstenholme Sound. So ended the memorable 14th of August: it will be, doubtless, remembered by many with far from pleasant feelings; and some who have been "gulled" in England may thank Mr. Petersen that a carrier-pigeon freighted with a cock-and-bull story of blood, fire, wreck, and murder, was not despatched on that memorable day.

[Headnote: _THE WEST WATER._]

The 15th we struck westward, that is, the "Pioneer," with "Resolute" and "Prince Albert" in tow. After four hours of very intricate navigation, called "reeving through the pack," we reached the West Water,--a wide ocean of water without one piece of floe-ice, and very few icebergs. The change was wonderful--incredible. Here was nothing but water; and we were almost within sight, as we steered to the S.W., of the spot where, for forty-seven days, we had had nothing but ice! ice! ice! Let us hurry on. The West Water (as usual with the water at this season of the year) was covered with fog: in it we steered. The "Resolute," as a capital joke, in return for the long weary miles we had towed her, set, on one occasion, all studsails, and gave us a tow for four hours. When off the mouth of Lancaster Sound, the "Prince Albert" was cast off; and she departed to carry out, as I then thought, a part of the grand scheme of land travelling next year, into which it became almost daily apparent the search for Franklin would resolve itself. Already had night commenced; next came winter.

Touching at Pond's Bay was made a longer proceeding than was ever calculated upon, for a succession of thick fogs and strong gales prevented the "Pioneer" running into the bay, or ascertaining whether cairns or other marks had been erected on the coast.

The 21st of August came before we had a change of weather: happily it then took place; and the "Pioneer" (having some days before left the "Resolute," to cruise off Possession Bay) entered Pond's Bay, running up the northern shore towards a place called Button Point.

The "West Land," as this side of Baffin's Bay is called, strikes all seamen, after struggling through the icy region of Melville Bay, as being verdant and comparatively genial. We all thought so, and feasted our eyes on valleys, which, in our now humbled taste, were voted beautiful,--at any rate there were signs and symptoms of verdure; and as we steered close along the coast, green and russet colours were detected and pointed out with delight. The bay was calm and glassy, and the sun to the west, sweeping along a water horizon, showed pretty plainly that Pond's Bay, like a good many more miscalled bays of this region, was nothing more than the bell-shaped mouth to some long fiord or strait.

One of my ice-quartermasters, a highly intelligent seaman, assured me he had been in a whale-boat up this very inlet, until they conjectured themselves to be fast approaching Admiralty Inlet; the country there improved much in appearance, and in one place they found abundance of natives, deer, and grass as high as his knees. I landed with a boat's crew on Button Point. The natives had retired into the interior to kill deer and salmon: this they are in the habit of doing every season when the land ice breaks up. Numerous unroofed winter habitations and carefully secured _cachés_ of seal-blubber proved that they had been here in some numbers, and would return to winter after the ice had again formed in the bay, and the seals began to appear, upon which the existence of the Esquimaux depends.

On first landing we had been startled by observing numerous cairns, standing generally in pairs: these we pulled down one after the other, and examined without finding any thing in them; and it was only the accidental discovery by one of the men of a seal-blubber _caché_, which showed that the cairns were merely marks by which the Esquimaux, on their return in the winter, could detect their stores.

[Headnote: _LANCASTER SOUND._]

The winter abode of these Esquimaux appeared to be sunk from three to four feet below the level of the ground: a ring of stones, a few feet high, were all the vestiges we saw. No doubt they completed the habitation by building a house of snow of the usual dome shape over the stones and sunken floor. Having no wood, whale-bones had been here substituted for rafters, as is usual along the whole breadth of the American coast-line from Behring's Straits; but many of the hovels had no rafters. On the whole the impression was, that the natives here lived in a state of much greater barbarity and discomfort than those we had seen about the Danish settlements on the opposite shore.

A cairn was erected by us; a record and some letters deposited for the natives to put on board whalers at a future season; and having placed a number of presents for the poor creatures in the different huts, and on the _cachés_, we hurried on board and made the best of our way to Possession Bay, and rejoined the "Resolute," from whom we learnt that the "North Star" had placed a record there, to say, that after having failed to cross Baffin's Bay in 1849, she had done so in 1850, and had gone up Lancaster Sound to seek the "Enterprise" and "Investigator," under Sir James Ross, they having, as we knew, meanwhile, gone home, been paid off, recommissioned, and were now, please God, in the Arctic Ocean, by way of Behring's Straits.

_August 22d, 1850._--The "Resolute" in company, and steering a course up Lancaster Sound.

The great gateway, within whose portals we were now fast entering, has much in it that is interesting in its associations to an English seaman. Across its mouth, the bold navigator Baffin, 200 years before, had steered, pronounced it a sound, and named it after the Duke of Lancaster. About thirty-five years ago it was converted into a bay by Sir John Ross; and within eighteen months afterwards, Parry, the prince of Arctic navigators, sailed through this very bay, and discovered new lands extending half of the distance towards Behring's Straits, or about 600 miles. To complete the remaining 600 miles of unknown region, Sir John Franklin and his 140 gallant followers had devoted themselves,--with what resolution, with what devotion, is best told by their long absence and our anxiety.

The high and towering ranges of the Byam Martin Mountains looked down upon us from the southern sky, between fast-passing fog-banks and fitful gusts of wind, which soon sobbed themselves into a calm, and steam, as usual, became our friend: with it the "Pioneer," towing the "Resolute" astern, steered for the north shore of Lancaster Sound; and on August 25th we were off Croker Bay, a deep indentation between Cape Warrender and Cape Home. The clouds hung too heavily about the land, distant as we were, to see more than the bare outline, but its broken configuration gave good hope of numerous harbours, fiords, and creeks. From Cape Home, we entered on a new and peculiar region of limestone formation, lofty and tabular, offering to the seaboard cliffs steep and escarped as the imagination can picture to be possible. By the beautiful sketches of Parry's officers, made on his first voyage, we easily recognized the various headlands; the north shore being now alone in view; and indeed, except the mountains in the interior, we saw nothing more of the south shore of Lancaster Sound after leaving Possession Bay.

[Headnote: _ICEBERGS AND GLACIERS._]

Of Powell Inlet we saw an extensive glacier extending into the sound, and a few loose 'berg pieces floating about. This glacier was regarded with some interest; for, remarkably enough, it is the last one met with in sailing westward to Melville Island.

The iceberg, as it is well known, is the creation of the glacier; and where land of a nature to form the latter does not exist, the former is not met with.

The region we had just left behind us is the true home of the iceberg in the northern hemisphere. There, in Baffin's Bay, where the steep cliffs of cold granitic formation frown over waters where the ordinary "deep sea lead-line" fails to find bottom, the monarch of glacial formations floats slowly from the ravine which has been its birth-place, until fairly launched in the profound waters of the Atlantic, and in the course of many years is carried to the warmer regions of the south, to assist Nature in preserving her great laws of equilibrium of temperature of the air and water.

At one period--and not a very distant one either--savans, and, amongst others, the French philosopher St. Pierre, believed icebergs to be the accumulated snow and ice of ages, which, forming at the poles, detached themselves from the parent mass: this, as they then thought, had no reference to the existence of land or water. Such an hypothesis for some time gave rise to ingenious and startling theories as to the effect which an incessant accumulation of ice would have on the globe itself; and St. Pierre hinted at the possibility of the huge cupolas of ice, which, as he believed, towered aloft in the cold heavens of the poles, suddenly launching towards the equator, melting, and bringing about a second deluge.

Had the immortal Cook been aware of the certainty of land being close to him, when, in the Antarctic regions, he found himself amongst no less than one hundred and eighty-six icebergs in December, 1773; he who, from the deck of a collier, had risen to be the Columbus of England, might have then plucked the laurel which Sir James Ross so gallantly won in the discovery of the circumpolar continent of Queen Victoria's Land.

On every side of the southern pole, on every meridian of the great South Sea, the seaman meets icebergs. Not so in the north. In the 360 degrees of longitude, which intersects the parallel of 70 degrees north (about which parallel the coasts of America, Europe, and Asia will be found to lie), icebergs are only found over an extent of some 55 degrees of longitude, and this is immediately in and about Greenland and Baffin's Bay. In fact, for 1375 miles of longitude we have icebergs, and then for 7635 geographical miles none are met with. This interesting fact is, in my opinion, most cheering, and points strongly to the possibility that no extensive land exists about our northern pole,--a supposition which is borne out by the fact, that the vast ice-fields off Spitzbergen show no symptoms of ever having been in contact with land or gravel. Of course, the more firmly we can bring ourselves to believe in the existence of an ocean road leading to Behring's Straits, the better heart we shall feel in searching the various tortuous channels and different islands with which, doubtless, Franklin's route has been beset. It was not, therefore, without deep interest that I passed the boundary which Nature had set in the west to the existence of icebergs, and endeavoured to form a correct idea of the cause of such a phenomenon.

[Headnote: _A GALE IN BARROW'S STRAIT._]

Whilst this digression upon icebergs has taken place, the kind reader will suppose the calm to have ceased, and the "Resolute" and "Pioneer," under sail before a westerly wind, to be running from the table-land on the north shore of Lancaster Sound, in a diagonal direction towards Leopold Island. On the 26th of August, Cape York gleamed through an angry sky, and as Regent's Inlet opened to the southward, there was little doubt but we should soon be caught in an Arctic gale: we, however, cared little, provided there was plenty of water ahead, though of that there appeared strong reasons for entertaining doubts, as both the temperature of the air and water was fast falling.

That night--for night was now of some two hours' duration--the wind piped merrily, and we rolled most cruelly; the long and narrow "Pioneer" threatening to pitch every spar over the side, and refusing all the manoeuvring upon the part of her beshaken officers and men to comfort and quiet her.

A poet, who had not been fourteen hours in the cold, and whose body was not racked by constant gymnastic exertion to preserve his bones from fracture, might have given a beautiful description of the lifting of a fierce sky at about half-past one in the morning, and a disagreeable glimpse through snow-storm and squall of a bold and precipitous coast not many miles off, and ahead of us. I cannot undertake to do so, for I remember feeling far from poetical, as, with a jerk and a roll, the "Pioneer," under fore and aft canvas, came to the wind. Fast increasing daylight showed us to have been thrown considerably to the northward; and as we sailed to the south the ice showed itself in far from pleasing proximity under the lee--_boiling_, for so the edge of a pack appears to do in a gale of wind. It was a wild sight; but we felt that, at any rate, it was optional with a screw steamer whether she ran into the pack or kept the sea, for her clawing-to-windward power astonished us who had fought in the teeth of hard gales elsewhere in flying Symondite brigs. Not so, however, thought a tough old Hull quarter-master whose weather-beaten face peered anxiously over the lee, and watched the "Resolute" beating Cromer-a-lee, for I heard him growl out, "Wull, if they are off a strait lee-pack edge, the sooner they make up their minds to run into it the better!" "Why so, Hall?" I inquired. "Because, sir," replied the old man, "that ship is going two feet to leeward for one she is going ahead, and she would _never_ work off _nothing!_"

"Pleasant!" I mentally ejaculated; but, willing to hear more from my dry old friend, who was quite a character in his way,--"Perhaps," I said, "you have occasionally been caught in worse vessels off such a pack as you describe, or a lee shore, and still not been lost?"

"Oh! Lord, sir! we have some rum craft in the whaling ships, but I don't think any thing so sluggish as the Resolute.' Howsomdever, they gets put to it now and then. Why, it was only last year, we were down on the south-west fishing-ground: about the 10th of October, it came on to blow, sir, from the southward, and sent in a sea upon us, which nearly drowned us: we tried to keep an offing, but it was no use; we couldn't show a rag; every thing was blown away, and it was perishing cold; but our captain was a smart man, and he said,--'Well, boys, we must run for Hangman's Cove,[3] altho' it's late in the day; if we don't, I won't answer where we'll be in the morning."

[3] Hangman's Cove, a small harbour on the west side of Davis's Straits.

"So up we put the helm, sir, to run for a place like a hole in a wall, with nothing but a close-reefed topsail set, and the sky as thick as pea-soup. It looked a bad job, I do assure you, sir. Just as it was dark, we found ourselves right up against the cliffs, and we did not know whether we were lost or saved until by good luck we shot into dead smooth water in a little cove, and let go our anchor. Next day a calm set in, and the young ice made round the ship: we couldn't cut it, and we couldn't tow the vessel through it. We had not three months' provisions, and we made certain sure of being starved to death; when the wind came strong off the land, and, by working for our lives, we escaped, and went home directly out of the country."

"A cheering tale, this, of the Hangman's Cove," I thought, as I turned from my Job's comforter; and, satisfying myself that the pack precluded all chance of reaching Leopold Island for the present, I retired to rest.

[Headnote: _STEAMING UP BARROWS STRAIT._]

Next day, the 27th of August, found us steering past Cape Hurd, off which the pack lay at a distance of some ten miles, and, as we ran westward, and the breadth of clear water gradually diminished, the wind failed us; although, astern in Lancaster Sound, there was still a dark and angry sky betokening a war of the elements, whereas where we were off Radstock Bay--all was calm, cold, and arctic.

"Up steam, and take in tow!" was again the cry; and as the pack, acted on by the tide, commenced to travel quickly in upon Cape Ricketts, we slipped past it, and reached an elbow formed between that headland and Beechey Island. The peculiar patch of broken table-land, called Caswell's Tower, as well as the striking cliffs of slaty limestone along whose base we were rapidly steaming, claimed much of our attention; and we were pained to see, from the strong ice-blink to the S.W., that a body of packed ice had been driven up the straits by the late gales.

The sun was fast dipping behind North Devon, and a beautiful moon (the first we had found any use for since passing Cape Farewell on the 28th of May) was cheerfully accepted as a substitute, when the report of a boat being seen from the mast-head startled us and excited general anxiety. We were then off Gascoigne Inlet, the "Resolute" in tow. The boat proved to be the "Sophia's," and in her Captain Stewart and Dr. Sutherland; they went on board the "Resolute," and, shortly afterwards, the interesting intelligence they then communicated was made known to me.

It was this,--the "Assistance" and "Intrepid," after they left us, had visited Wolstenholme Sound, and discovered the winter quarters of H.M.S. "North Star," but nothing to lead them to place any faith in Adam Beck's tale: from thence they had examined the north shore of Lancaster Sound as far as Cape Riley, without discovering any thing; on landing there, however, numerous traces of English seamen having visited the spot were discovered in sundry pieces of rag, rope, broken bottles, and a long-handled instrument intended to rake up things from the bottom of the sea; marks of a tent-place were likewise visible. A cairn was next seen on Beechey Island; to this the "Intrepid" proceeded, and, as rather an odd incident connected with her search of this spot took place, I shall here mention it, although it was not until afterwards that the circumstance came to my knowledge.

[Headnote: _TRACES OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN._]

The steamer having approached close under the island, a boat-full of officers and men proceeded on shore: on landing, some relics of European visitors were found; and we can picture the anxiety with which the steep was scaled and the cairn torn down, every stone turned over, the ground underneath dug up a little, and yet, alas! no document or record found. Meanwhile an Arctic adventure, natural, but novel to one portion of the actors, was taking place. The boat had left the "Intrepid" without arms of any description, and the people on the top of the cliff saw, to their dismay, a large white bear advancing rapidly in the direction of the boat, which, by the deliberate way the brute stopped and raised his head as if in the act of smelling, appeared to disturb his olfactory nerves. The two men left in charge of the boat happily caught sight of Bruin before he caught hold of them, and launching the boat they hurried off to the steamer, whilst the observers left on the cliff were not sorry to see the bear chase the boat a short way and then turn towards the packed ice in the offing. This event, together with some risk of the ice separating the two vessels, induced the party to return on board, where a general (though, as was afterwards proved, erroneous) impression had been created on the minds of the people belonging to the two ships, that what they had found must be the traces of a retreating or shipwrecked party from the "Erebus" and "Terror." A short distance within Cape Riley, another tent-place was found; and then, after a look at the coast up as far as Cape Innis, the two vessels proceeded across towards Cape Hotham, on the opposite side of Wellington Channel, having in the first place erected a cairn at the base of Cape Riley, and in it deposited a document.

Whilst the "Assistance" and "Intrepid" were so employed, the American squadron, and that under Captain Penny, were fast approaching. The Americans first communicated with Captain Ommanney's division, and heard of the discovery of the first traces of Sir John Franklin. The Americans then informed Penny, who was pushing for Wellington Channel; and he, after some trouble, succeeded in catching the "Assistance," and, on going on board of her, learnt all they had to tell him, and saw what traces they had discovered. Captain Penny then returned--as he figuratively expressed it--"to take up the search from Cape Riley like a blood-hound," and richly was he rewarded for doing so.

At Cape Spencer he discovered the ground-plan of a tent, the floor of which was neatly and carefully paved with small smooth stones. Around the tent a number of bird's bones, as well as remnants of meat-canisters, led him to imagine that it had been inhabited for some time as a shooting station and a look-out place, for which latter purpose it was admirably chosen, commanding a good view of Barrow's Strait and Wellington Channel; this opinion was confirmed by the discovery of a piece of paper, on which was written, "to be called,"--evidently the fragments of an officer's night orders.

Some sledge marks pointed northward from this neighbourhood; and, the American squadron being unable to advance up the strait (in consequence of the ice resting firmly against the land close to Cape Innis, and across to Barlow Inlet on the opposite shore), Lieut. de Haven despatched parties on foot to follow these sledge marks, whilst Penny's squadron returned to re-examine Beechey Island. The American officers found the sledge tracts very distinct for some miles, but before they had got as far as Cape Bowden, the trail ceased, and one empty bottle and a piece of newspaper were the last things found in that direction.

Not so Captain Penny's squadron:--making fast to the ice between Beechey Island and Cape Spencer, in what is now called Union Bay, and in which they found the "Felix" schooner to be likewise lying, parties from the "Lady Franklin" and "Sophia" started towards Beechey Island.

[Headnote: _TRACES OF THE LOST EXPEDITION._]

A long point of land slopes gradually from the southern bluffs of this now deeply interesting island, until it almost connects itself with the land of North Devon, forming, on either side of it, two good and commodious bays. On this slope, a multitude of preserved meat-tins were strewed about, and near them, and on the ridge of the slope, a carefully constructed cairn was discovered: it consisted of layers of meat-tins filled with gravel, and placed to form a solid foundation. Beyond this, and along the northern shore of Beechey Island, the following traces were then quickly discovered:--the embankment of a house with carpenter and armourer's working-places, washing-tubs, coal-bags, pieces of old clothing, rope, and, lastly, the graves of three of the crew of the "Erebus" and "Terror,"--placing it beyond all doubt, that the missing ships had indeed been there, and bearing date of the winter of 1845-46.

We, therefore, now had ascertained the first winter quarters of Sir John Franklin! Here fell to the ground all the evil forebodings of those who had, in England, consigned his expedition to the depths of Baffin's Bay, on its outward voyage. Our first prayer had been granted by a beneficent Providence; and we had now risen, from doubt and hope, to a certain assurance of Franklin having reached thus far without shipwreck or disaster.