Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/374

29, 1859.]

However, no  anxieties  then  pressed  on  the  minds of those  gallant  men; “large  water ” was  all  they thought of; give  them  that,  and  Behring’s  Straits in their  ships  was  still  their  destination.

The sun  has  ceased  to  set,  night  is  as  the  day, the snow  has  long  melted  off  land  and  floe,  the detached parties  have  all  returned  to  their  ships, yards are  crossed,  rigging  set  up,  sails  bent,  the graves of  their  shipmates  are  neatly  paved  round, shells from  the  bay  are  prettily  arranged  over  the sailor’s last  home  by  some  old  messmate. Franklin, with that  Christian  earnestness  which  ever  formed so charming  a trait  in  his  character,  selects,  at  the request of  his  men,  epitaphs  which  appeal  to  the hearts of  all,  and  perhaps  no  finer  picture  oould  be conceived  than  that  firm  and  veteran  leader  leading his  beloved  crews  on  to  the  perilous  execution of their  worldly  duty,  yet  calmly  pointing  to  that text of  Holy  Writ  in  which  the  prophet  warrior  of old  reminded  his  people  of  their  God,  “Choose  ye this  day,  whom  ye  will  serve.”

The garden  on  Beechey  Island  refuses  to  yield any vegetables  from  the  seeds  so  carefully  sown  in it; but  the  officers  have  brought  and  transplanted within its  border  every  tuft  of  saxifrage  and  pretty anemone and  poppy  which  can  be  found. The pale pink  of  the  one  and  delicate  straw  colour  of the  other  form  the  only  pleasing  relief  from  the monotonous colouring  of  the  barren  land. Sportsmen return and  declare  the  game  to  be  too  wild for farther  sport; but  cheer  all  by  saying  that  the deer and  hare  have  changed  their  coats  from  white to russet  colour; the  ptarmigan’s  brood  have  taken wing, the  wild  duck  has  long  since  led  her  callow young to  the  open  lakes,  or  off  to  “holes  of  water” which are  rapidly  increasing  under  cliffs  and  projecting headlands — all  the  signs  denote  that  the disruption of  the  frozen  surface  of  the  sea  is  at hand.

The day  of  release  arrives: in  the  morning  a black  sky  has  been  seen  over  the  eastern  portion of Barrow’s  Straits,  that  together  with  a low  barometer indicates  a S.E.  breeze. The cracks  which radiate over  the  floes  in  every  direction  gradually widen, then  close  again,  and  form  “heavy  nips,” in which  the  fearful  pressure  occasions  a dull grinding noise. Presently the  look-out  man  on Beechey  Island  throws  out  the  signal. The floes are in  motion! A loud hurrah  welcomes  the  joyful signal — a race for  the  point  to  see  the  destruction of the  ice. It moves  indeed. A mighty agency is at  work; the  floe  heaves  and  cracks,  now  presses fearfully in  one  direction,  and  then  in  another; occasionally the  awful  pressure  acting  horizontally upon a huge  floe-pieoe  makes  it,  though  ten  feet thick, curve  up  in  a dome-like  shape. A dull moaning is  heard  as  if  the  very  ice  cried  mercy, and then,  with  a sharp  report,  the  mass  is  shivered into fragments,  hurled  up  one  on  top  of  the other. Water rapidly  shows  in  all  directions,  and within twenty-four  hours  there  is  quite  as  much sea seen  as  there  was  of  ice  yesterday. Yet the ice-fields in  bays  and  inlets  are  still  fast; this  is the  land-floe,  and  in  that  of  Beechey  Island  the ships are  still  fast  locked; but  anticipating  such would be  the  case,  all  the  spring  long  men  have been carefully  sprinkling  ashes,  sand,  and  gravel over the  ice  in  a straight  line  from  the  Erebus  and

Terror to  the  entrance  of  the  bay. The increased action of  the  sun  upon  these  foreign  substances has occasioned  a rapid  decay  of  the  floe  beneath them, and  it  only  needs  a little  labour  to  extricate the expedition.

“Hands cut  out  ships!” pipes  the  cheery  boatswain. A hundred strong  hands  and  a dozen  ice- saws are  soon  at  work,  whilst  loud  song  and merriment awaken  the  long  silent  echoes  of Beechey  Island. The water  is  reached,  the  sail is made,  the  ships  cast  to  the  westward,  and  again they speed  towards  Cape  Walker.

If we  open  a chart  of  the  Arctic  Regions,*  it will  be  observed  that  westward  and  northward  of the  Parry  Islands  there  is  a wide  sea  whose  limits are as  yet  unknown,  and  the  ice  which  incumbers it has  never  yet  been  traversed  by  ship  or  sledge.

All those  navigators,  Collinson  and  McClure  in their  ships,  and  M‘Clintock  and  Mecham  with their sledges,  who  have  with  much  difficulty  and danger skirted  along  the  southern  and  eastern  edge of this  truly  frozen  sea,  mention,  in  terms  of wonderment,  the  stupendous  thickness  and  massive proportions of  the  vast  floes  with  which  it  is closely  packed. It was  between  this  truly  polar ice and  the  steep  cliffs  of  Banks’s  Land  that  Sir Robert McClure  fairly  fought  his  way  in  the memorable voyage  of  the  Investigator. It was  in the  narrow  and  tortuous  lane  of  water  left  between the low  beach  line  of  North  America  and  the  wall of ice  formed  by  the  grounded  masses  of  this  fearful pack that  the  gallant  Collinson  carried,  in  1852 and 1853,  the  Enterprise  by  way  of  Behring’s Straits to  and  from  the  farther  shores  of  Victoria Land; and it  was  in  the  far  north-west  of  the Parry group  that  M4Clintock  and  Mecham,  with their sledges  in  1853  gazed,  as  Parry  had  done five-and-thirty years  before,  with  astonishment  on that  pack-ice  to  which  all  they  had  seen  in  the seas between  Prince  Patrick’s  Land  and  the Atlantic was  a mere  bagatelle. It is  not  that  the cold is  here  more  intense,  or  that  the  climate  is more  rigorous,  but  this  accumulation  of  ponderous ice arises  simply  from  the  want  of  any  large  direct communication between  that  portion  of  the  Polar Sea and  the  warm  waters  of  the  Pacific  and  Atlantic Oceans. Behring’s Strait  is  the  only  vent  in  a south- westerly direction, and  that  strait  is  so  shallow that this  polar  ice  (which  has  been  found  to  draw as  much  as  sixty  and  eighty  feet  of  water,  and  to have  hummocks  upon  it  of  a hundred  feet  in height),  generally  grounds  in  it,  until  thawed  away by the  action  of  the  Pacific  gulf  stream; and,  on the  other  hand,  towards  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  the channels, as  it  will  be  observed,  are  most  tortuous and much  barred  with  islands. The grand  law  of nature  by  which  the  ice  of  our  Northern  Pole  is ever  flowing  towards  the  torrid  zone,  holds  good, however, within  the  area  to  which  we  are  alluding; and in  spite  of  all  obstacles,  and  although  the accumulation of  ice  every  winter  exceeds  the  discharge and  destruction,  still  the  action  is  even southerly, as  in  the  seas  of  Spitzbergen  and  Nova Zembla. The slow  march  of  this  ice-stream  is, however, far  more  like  that  of  the  ice  from  some


 * Mr. Arrowsmith, of  Soho  Square,  has  published  an  excellent and  cheap  general  map,  on  a small  scale,  which  will  be found  very  correct.