by Jules Verne
The doctor could not miss such an occasion of getting wet to the skin; he remained on deck, a prey to that emotional admiration which a scientific man must necessarily feel during such a spectacle. His nearest neighbour could not have heard him speak, so he said nothing and watched; but whilst watching he was witness to an odd phenomenon, peculiar to hyperborean regions. The tempest was confined to a restricted area, and only extended for about three or four miles; the wind that passes over ice-fields loses much of its strength and cannot carry its violence far out; the doctor perceived from time to time, through an opening in the tempest, a calm sky and a quiet sea beyond some ice-fields. The _Forward_ would therefore only have to take advantage of some channels left by the ice to find a peaceful navigation again, but she ran the risk of being thrown on to one of the moving banks which followed the movement of the swell. However, in a few hours Hatteras succeeded in getting his ship into a calm sea, whilst the violence of the hurricane spent itself at a few cables' length from the _Forward_. Melville Bay no longer presented the same aspect; under the influence of the winds and the waves a great number of icebergs, detached from the coast, floated northward, running against one another in every direction. There were several hundreds of them, but the bay is very wide, and the brig easily avoided them. The spectacle of these floating masses was magnificent; they seemed to be having a grand race for it on the open sea. The doctor was getting quite excited with watching them, when the harpooner, Simpson, came up and made him look at the changing tints in the sea; they varied from a deep blue to olive green; long stripes stretched north and south in such decided lines that the eye could follow each shade out of sight. Sometimes a transparent sheet of water would follow a perfectly opaque sheet.
"Well, Mr. Clawbonny, what do you think of that?" said Simpson.
"I am of the same opinion as the whaler Scoresby on the nature of the different coloured waters; blue water has no animalculae, and green water is full of them. Scoresby has made several experiments on this subject, and I think he is right."
"Well, sir, I know something else about the colours in the sea, and if I were a whaler I should be precious glad to see them."
"But I don't see any whales," answered the doctor.
"You won't be long before you do, though, I can tell you. A whaler is lucky when he meets with those green stripes under this latitude."
"Why?" asked the doctor, who always liked to get information from anybody who understood what they were talking about.
"Because whales are always found in great quantities in green water."
"What's the reason of that?"
"Because they find plenty of food in them."
"Are you sure of that?"
"I've seen it a hundred times, at least, in Baffin Sea; why shouldn't it be the same in Melville Bay? Besides, look there, Mr. Clawbonny," added Simpson, leaning over the barricading.
"Why any one would think it was the wake of a ship!"
"It is an oily substance that the whale leaves behind. The animal can't be far off!"
The atmosphere was impregnated with a strong oily odour, and the doctor attentively watched the surface of the water. The prediction of the harpooner was soon accomplished. Foker called out from the masthead--
"A whale alee!"
All looks turned to the direction indicated. A small spout was perceived coming up out of the sea about a mile from the brig.
"There she spouts!" cried Simpson, who knew what that meant.
"She has disappeared!" answered the doctor.
"Oh, we could find her again easily enough if necessary!" said Simpson, with an accent of regret. To his great astonishment, and although no one dared ask for it, Hatteras gave orders to man the whaler. Johnson went aft to the stern, while Simpson, harpoon in hand, stood in the bow. They could not prevent the doctor joining the expedition. The sea was pretty calm. The whaler soon got off, and in ten minutes was a mile from the brig. The whale had taken in another provision of air, and had plunged again; but she soon returned to the surface and spouted out that mixture of gas and mucus that escapes from her air-holes.
"There! There!" said Simpson, pointing to a spot about eight hundred yards from the boat. It was soon alongside the animal, and as they had seen her from the brig too, she came nearer, keeping little steam on. The enormous cetacean disappeared and reappeared as the waves rose and fell, showing its black back like a rock in open sea. Whales do not swim quickly unless they are pursued, and this one only rocked itself in the waves. The boat silently approached along the green water; its opacity prevented the animal seeing the enemy. It is always an agitating spectacle when a fragile boat attacks one of these monsters; this one was about 130 feet long, and it is not rare, between the 72nd and the 80th degree, to meet with whales more than 180 feet long. Ancient writers have described animals more than 700 feet long, but they drew upon their imagination for their facts. The boat soon neared the whale; on a sign from Simpson the men rested on their oars, and brandishing his harpoon, the experienced sailor threw it with all his strength; it went deep into the thick covering of fat. The wounded whale struck the sea with its tail and plunged. The four oars were immediately raised perpendicularly; the cord fastened to the harpoon, and attached to the bow, rolled rapidly out and dragged the boat along, steered cleverly by Johnson.
The whale got away from the brig and made for the moving icebergs; she kept on for more than half-an-hour; they were obliged to wet the cord fastened to the harpoon to prevent it catching fire by rubbing against the boat. When the whale seemed to be going along a little more slowly, the cord was pulled in little by little and rolled up; the whale soon reappeared on the surface of the sea, which she beat with her formidable tail: veritable waterspouts fell in a violent rain on to the boat. It was getting nearer. Simpson had seized a long lance, and was preparing to give close battle to the animal, when all at once the whale glided into a pass between two mountainous icebergs. The pursuit then became really dangerous.
"The devil!" said Johnson.
"Go ahead," cried Simpson; "we've got her!"
"But we can't follow her into the icebergs!" said Johnson, steering steadily.
"Yes we can!" cried Simpson.
"No, no!" cried some of the sailors.
"Yes, yes!" said others.
During the discussion the whale had got between two floating mountains which the swell was bringing close together. The boat was being dragged into this dangerous part when Johnson rushed to the fore, an axe in his hand, and cut the cord. He was just in time; the two mountains came together with a tremendous crash, crushing the unfortunate animal.
"The whale's lost!" cried Simpson.
"But we are saved!" answered Johnson.
"Well," said the doctor, who had not moved, "that was worth seeing!"
The crushing force of these ice-mountains is enormous. The whale was victim to an accident that often happens in these seas. Scoresby relates that in the course of a single summer thirty whales perished in the same way in Baffin's Sea; he saw a three-master flattened in a minute between two immense walls of ice. Other vessels were split through, as if with a lance, by pointed icicles a hundred feet long, meeting through the planks. A few minutes afterwards the boat hailed the brig, and was soon in its accustomed place on deck.
"It is a lesson for those who are imprudent enough to adventure into the channels amongst the ice!" said Shandon in a loud voice.
CHAPTER XX
BEECHEY ISLAND
On the 25th of June the _Forward_ arrived in sight of Cape Dundas at the north-western extremity of Prince of Wales's Land. There the difficulty of navigating amongst the ice grew greater. The sea is narrower there, and the line made by Crozier, Young, Day, Lowther, and Garret Islands, like a chain of forts before a roadstead, forced the ice-streams to accumulate in this strait. The brig took from the 25th to the 30th of June to make as much way as she would have done in one day under any other circumstances; she stopped, retraced her steps, waiting for a favourable
occasion so as not to miss Beechey Island, using a great deal of coal, as the fires were only moderated when she had to halt, but were never put out, so that she might be under pressure day and night. Hatteras knew the extent of his coal provision as well as Shandon, but as he was certain of getting his provision renewed at Beechey Island he would not lose a minute for the sake of economy; he had been much delayed by his forced march southward, and although he had taken the precaution of leaving England before the month of April, he did not find himself more advanced than preceding expeditions had been at the same epoch. On the 30th they sighted Cape Walker at the north-eastern extremity of Prince of Wales's Land; it was the extreme point that Kennedy and Bellot perceived on the 3rd of May, 1852, after an excursion across the whole of North Somerset. Before that, in 1851, Captain Ommaney, of the Austin expedition, had the good luck to revictual his detachments there. This cape is very high, and remarkable for its reddish-brown colour; from there, when the weather is clear, the view stretches as far as the entrance to Wellington Channel. Towards evening they saw Cape Bellot, separated from Cape Walker by McLeon Bay. Cape Bellot was so named in the presence of the young French officer, for whom the English expedition gave three cheers. At this spot the coast is made of yellowish limestone, presenting a very rugged outline; it is defended by enormous icebergs which the north winds pile up there in a most imposing way. It was soon lost to sight by the _Forward_ as she opened a passage amongst the ice to get to Beechey Island through Barrow Strait. Hatteras resolved to go straight on, and, so as not to be drifted further than the island, scarcely quitted his post during the following days; he often went to the masthead to look out for the most advantageous channels. All that pluck, skill, and genius could do he did while they were crossing the strait. Fortune did not favour him, for the sea is generally more open at this epoch. But at last, by dint of sparing neither his steam, his crew, nor himself, he attained his end.
On the 3rd of July, at 11 o'clock in the morning, the ice-master signalled land to the north. After taking an observation Hatteras recognised Beechey Island, that general meeting-place of Arctic navigators. Almost all ships that adventure in these seas stop there. Franklin wintered there for the first time before getting into Wellington Strait, and Creswell, with Lieutenant McClure, after having cleared 170 miles on the ice, rejoined the _Phoenix_ and returned to England. The last ship which anchored at Beechey Island before the _Forward_ was the _Fox_; McClintock revictualled there the 11th of August, 1858, and repaired the habitations and magazines; only two years had elapsed since then, and Hatteras knew all these details. The boatswain's heart beat with emotion at the sight of this island; when he had visited it he was quartermaster on board the _Phoenix_; Hatteras questioned him about the coast line, the facilities for anchoring, how far they could go inland, &c.; the weather was magnificent, and the temperature kept at 57 degrees.
"Well, Johnson," said the captain, "do you know where you are?"
"Yes, sir, that is Beechey Island; only you must let us get further north--the coast is more easy of access."
"But where are the habitations and the magazines?" said Hatteras.
"Oh, you can't see them till you land; they are sheltered behind those little hills you see yonder."
"And is that where you transported a considerable quantity of provisions?"
"Yes, sir; the Admiralty sent us here in 1853, under the command of Captain Inglefield, with the steamer _Phoenix_ and a transport ship, the _Breadalbane_, loaded with provisions; we brought enough with us to revictual a whole expedition."
"But the commander of the _Fox_ took a lot of them in 1858," said Hatteras.
"That doesn't matter, sir; there'll be plenty left for you; the cold preserves them wonderfully, and we shall find them as fresh and in as good a state of preservation as the first day."
"What I want is coal," said Hatteras; "I have enough provisions for several years."
"We left more than a thousand tons there, so you can make your mind easy."
"Are we getting near?" said Hatteras, who, telescope in hand, was watching the coast.
"You see that point?" continued Johnson. "When we have doubled it we shall be very near where we drop anchor. It was from that place that we started for England with Lieutenant Creswell and the twelve invalids from the _Investigator_. We were fortunate enough to bring back McClure's lieutenant, but the officer Bellot, who accompanied us on board the _Phoenix_, never saw his country again! It is a painful thing to think about. But, captain, I think we ought to drop anchor here."
"Very well," answered Hatteras, and he gave his orders in consequence. The _Forward_ was in a little bay naturally sheltered on the north, east, and south, and at about a cable's length from the coast.
"Mr. Wall," said Hatteras, "have the long boat got ready to transport the coal on board. I shall land in the pirogue with the doctor and the boatswain. Will you accompany us, Mr. Shandon?"
"As you please," answered Shandon.
A few minutes later the doctor, armed as a sportsman and a _savant_, took his place in the pirogue along with his companions; in ten minutes they landed on a low and rocky coast.
"Lead the way, Johnson," said Hatteras. "You know it, I suppose?"
"Perfectly, sir; only there's a monument here that I did not expect to find!"
"That!" cried the doctor; "I know what it is; let us go up to it; the stone itself will tell us."
The four men advanced, and the doctor said, after taking off his hat--
"This, my friends, is a monument in memory of Franklin and his companions."
Lady Franklin had, in 1855, confided a black marble tablet to Doctor Kane, and in 1858 she gave a second to McClintock to be raised on Beechey Island. McClintock accomplished this duty religiously, and placed the stone near a funeral monument erected to the memory of Bellot by Sir John Barrow.
The tablet bore the following inscription:
"TO THE MEMORY OF FRANKLIN, CROZIER, FITZ-JAMES, AND ALL THEIR VALIANT BRETHREN OFFICERS AND FAITHFUL COMPANIONS who suffered for the cause of science and for their country's glory.
"This stone is erected near the place where they passed their first Arctic winter, and from whence they departed to conquer obstacles or to die.
"It perpetuates the regret of their countrymen and friends who admire them, and the anguish, conquered by Faith, of her who lost in the chief of the expedition the most devoted and most affectionate of husbands.
"It is thus that He led them to the supreme haven where all men take their rest.
"1855."
This stone, on a forlorn coast of these far-off regions, appealed mournfully to the heart; the doctor, in presence of these touching regrets, felt his eyes fill with tears. At the very same place which Franklin and his companions passed full of energy and hope, there only remained a block of marble in remembrance! And notwithstanding this sombre warning of destiny, the _Forward_ was going to follow in the track of the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_. Hatteras was the first to rouse himself from the perilous contemplation, and quickly climbed a rather steep hill, almost entirely bare of snow.
"Captain," said Johnson, following him, "we shall see the magazines from here."
Shandon and the doctor joined them on the summit. But from there the eye contemplated the vast plains, on which there remained no vestige of a habitation.
"That is singular!" cried the boatswain.
"Well, and where are the magazines?" said Hatteras quickly.
"I don't know--I don't see----" stammered Johnson.
"You have mistaken the way," said the doctor.
"It seemed to me that this was the very place," continued Johnson.
"Well," said Hatteras, impatiently "where are we to go now?"
"We had better go down, for I may be mistaken. I may have forgotten the exact locality in seven years!"
"Especially when the country is so uniformly monotonous!" added the doctor.
"And yet----" murmured Johnson.
Shandon had not spoken
a word. After walking for a few minutes, Johnson stopped.
"But no," he cried, "I am not mistaken!"
"Well?" said Hatteras, looking round him.
"Do you see that swell of the ground?" asked the boatswain, pointing to a sort of mound with three distinct swells on it.
"What do you conclude from that?" asked the doctor.
"Those are the three graves of Franklin's sailors. I am sure now that I am not mistaken; the habitations ought to be about a hundred feet from here, and if they are not, they----"
He dared not finish his sentence; Hatteras had rushed forward, a prey to violent despair. There, where the wished-for stores on which he had counted ought to have been, there ruin, pillage and destruction had been before him. Who had done it? Animals would only have attacked the provisions, and there did not remain a single rag from the tent, a piece of wood or iron, and, more terrible still, not a fragment of coal! It was evident that the Esquimaux had learnt the value of these objects from their frequent relations with Europeans; since the departure of the _Fox_ they had fetched everything away, and had not left a trace even of their passage. A slight coating of snow covered the ground. Hatteras was confounded. The doctor looked and shook his head. Shandon still said nothing, but an attentive observer would have noticed his lips curl with a cruel smile. At this moment the men sent by Lieutenant Wall came up; they soon saw the state of affairs. Shandon advanced towards the captain, and said: