Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/375

364 huge parent  glacier  than  of  anything  else,  for lanes of  water,  or  clear  spaces  of  sea,  are  seldom if ever  seen  amongst  it; indeed,  so  compact,  so impenetrable  is  its  character,  that  as  yet  no  navigator has  ever  succeeded  in  crossing  any  of  the ice-streams from  this  sea  of  desolation.

One of  these  impenetrable  ice-streams  flows down between  Melville  and  Banks’s  Land,  and impinging with  fearful  force  upon  the  exposed western shores  of  Prince  of  Wales’s  Land  and  the islands across  Barrow’s  Straits,  curves  down  what we hope  will  be  called  M ‘Clin toe k Channel,  until it is  fairly  blocked  up  in  the  narrows  about  King William’s Land. Here the  southern  edge  of  the ice-stream comes  in  contact  with  the  warm  waters flowing northward  from  the  rivers  of  the  continent of America,  and  undergoes  a constant  and  rapid disintegration, the  rear  of  the  ice-stream  ever  pressing forward,  yet  constantly  melted  away,*  as  it reaches  the  limit  which  Providence  has  set  upon  it.

As Franklin  sailed  to  the  west  from  Beechey Island, he  fell  upon  the  edge  of  this  ice-stream  in about  the  longitude  of  Cape  Walker; then  to  the west of  it,  and  of  Lowther,  Young,  and  Hamilton Islands, he  observed  the  floes  being  broken  up,  and rapidly disintegrated  by  meeting  the  warm  waters of Barrow’s  Straits; but  within  and  amongst  that pack there  could  have  been  no  hope  of  a passage, whilst on  the  other  hand  the  ridges  of  pressed-up shingle and  off-lying  shoals  round  the  land  west  of Cape  Walker  threatened  destruction  to  the  Erebus and Terror  if  they  attempted  that  route; whereas, as far  as  they  could  look  southward  between Capes Walker  and  Bunny,  there  stretched  away a fair and  promising  channel  leading  direct  to  the American continent,  and  with  ice  in  it  of  no  very aged appearance. Who that  has  stood  as  they  did on Cape  Walker  can  doubt  which  route  Franklin preferred under  such  circumstances?

The middle  of  August,  and  a fortnight  of  navigation are  before  them. A lead! a lead! and large water! away to  the  south,  calls  the  ice-master  from  the  crow’s  nest,  and  from  under  the friendly shelter  of  Cape  Walker  the  Expedition bears away,  and  they  progress  a-pace  down  what we know  as  Peel’s  Channel. On the  eastern  hand rise the  Bteep  black  cliffs  of  North  Somerset,  cut here and  there  with  deep  cleft  and  snow-filled


 * Taking the  drift  of  the  lost  Erebus  and  Torror  from  September, 1846,  to  April,  1848,  as  our  guide,  this  ice  stream moves  at  about  the  rate  of  a mile  and-a-half  in  a month.

ravine; along the  base  a ridge  of  ice  is  piled  up; full forty  feet  high,  it  gleams  in  white  and  blue against the  granite  cliff,  and  is  reflected  in  the calm waters  of  an  Arctic  summer’s  day — how  still, how calm,  how  sublimely  grand — but  the  experienced  seaman  is  not  beguiled  by  the  deceptive beauty of  such  a scene,  but  thinks  of  the  dark and stormy  nights  when,  and  that  before  many short days  are  past,  the  north-west  hurricane  will again launch  against  those  cliffs,  the  ice-fields  of Melville  Strait. On the  western  hand,  the  sand-stone  cliffs,  and  the  sheltered  coves  of  Prince  of Wales’s  Land,  have  donned  their  brightest  looks, and siren-like,  lure  the  discoverer,  by  many  an unexplored  bay  and  fiord,  to  delay  awhile  and  visit them. It may  not  be; the  Erebus  and  Terror  press on, for  is  not  Cape  Herschel  of  King  William’s Land and  the  American  continent  ahead — are  they not fast  nearing  it? Once there,  will  they  not have discovered  the  long-sought  passage? Will they not  have  done  that  “one  thing  whereby  great minds may  become  notable.”  Two  degrees  of latitude  are  passed  over; the  passage  contracts; for awhile it  looks  as  if  they  were  in  a cul-de-sac; islands locked  in  with  one  another,  excite  some anxiety for  a channel. The two  ships  are  close  to each  other,  the  eager  officers  and  men  crowd  gun-wale and  tops. Hepburn Island  bars  the  way: they round  it. Hurrah, hurrah! the path  opens before them,  the  lands  on  either  hand  recede,  as sea,  an  open  sea,  is  before  them. They dip  their ensigns, and  cheer  each  other  in  friendly  congratulation: joy,  joy! another one  hundred  miles,  and King William’s  Island  will  rise  in  view. The prize is  now  within  their  grasp,  whatever  be  the cost.

The sailor’s  prayer  for  open  water  is,  however, only granted  in  a limited  sense,  for  directly  the coast of  Prince  of  Wales’s  Island  is  lost  to  view, and that  they  are  no  longer  shielded  by  land  to the  west,  the  great  ice- stream  from  Melville  Island again falls  upon  it. The Erebus  and  Terror  pass a channel leading  into  Kegent’s  Inlet,  our  Bellot Channel; they advance  down  the  edge  of  that  ice-stream  as  far  as  latitude  71°. The only  passage  to