The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Hatteras

The doctor remembered Thomas Young's ingenious theory about these meteors; he supposed that certain clouds composed of prisms of ice are hanging in the air; the sun's rays falling on these prisms are refracted at angles of sixty and ninety degrees. The halos can only be formed in a clear sky. The doctor thought this an ingenious explanation.

Sailors, who are familiar with northern seas, consider this phenomenon a forerunner of heavy snow. If this should be the case, the position of the Forward was very critical. Hence Hatteras resolved to push on; during the rest of that day and the next night he took no rest, but examined the horizon through his glass, entering every inlet, and losing no opportunity to get out of the strait.

But in the morning he was compelled to stop before the impenetrable ice. The doctor joined him on the quarter-deck. Hatteras led him clear aft where they could talk without fear of being overheard.

"We are caught," said Hatteras. "It's impossible to go on."

"Impossible?" said the doctor.

"Impossible! All the powder on board the Forward would not open a quarter of a mile to us."

"What are we to do?" asked the doctor.

"I don't know. Curse this unlucky year!"

"Well, Captain, if we must go into winter-quarters, we'll do it. As well here as anywhere else!"

"Of course," said Hatteras in a low voice, "but we ought not to be going into winter-quarters, especially in the month of June. It is demoralizing, and bad for the health. The spirits of the crew are soon cast down during this long rest among real sufferings. So I had made up my mind to winter at a latitude nearer the Pole."

"Yes, but, unluckily, Baffin's Bay was closed."

"Any one else would have found it open," cried Hatteras; "that American, that – "

"Come, Hatteras," said the doctor, purposely interrupting him, "it's now only the 5th of June; we should not despair; a path may open before us suddenly; you know the ice often breaks into separate pieces, even when the weather is calm, as if it were driven apart by some force of repulsion; at any moment we may find the sea free."

"Well, if that happens, we shall take advantage of it. It is not impossible that beyond Bellot Strait we might get northward through Peel Sound or MacClintock Channel, and then – "

"Captain," said James Wall, approaching, "the ice threatens to tear away the rudder."

"Well," answered Hatteras, "never mind; I sha'n't unship it; I want to be ready at any hour, day or night. Take every precaution, Mr. Wall, and keep the ice off; but don't unship it, you understand."

"But – " began Wall.

"I don't care to hear any remarks, sir," said Hatteras, severely. "Go!"

Wall returned to his post.

"Ah!" said Hatteras, angrily, "I would give five years of my life to be farther north! I don't know any more dangerous place; and besides, we are so near the magnetic pole that the compass is of no use; the needle is inactive, or always shifting its direction."

"I confess," said the doctor, "that it is not plain sailing; but still, those who undertook it were prepared for such dangers, and there is no need to be surprised."

"Ah, Doctor! the crew has changed very much, and you have seen that the officers have begun to make remarks. The high pay offered the sailors induced them to ship; but they have their bad side, for as soon as they are off they are anxious to get back. Doctor, I have no encouragement in my undertaking, and if I fail, it won't be the fault of such or such a sailor, but of the ill-will of certain officers. Ah, they'll pay dearly for it!"

"You are exaggerating, Hatteras."

"Not at all! Do you fancy the crew are sorry for the obstacles we are meeting? On the contrary, they hope I shall be compelled to abandon my plans. So they do not murmur, and when the Forward is headed for the south, it will be the same thing. Fools! They imagine they are returning to England! But when I'm turned towards the north, you will see a difference! I swear solemnly that no living being shall make me swerve from my course! Give me a passage, an opening through which my brig can go, and I shall take it, if I have to leave half her sheathing behind!"

The desires of the captain were destined to be satisfied in a measure. As the doctor had foretold, there was a sudden change in the evening; under some influence of the wind, the ice-fields separated; the Forward pushed on boldly, breaking the ice with her steel prow; all the night they advanced, and towards six o'clock they were clear of Bellot Strait.

But great was Hatteras's anger at finding the way to the north closed! He was able to hide his despair; and as if the only open path were the one of his choice, he turned the Forward towards Franklin Sound. Being unable to go up Peel Sound, he determined to go around Prince of Wales Land, to reach MacClintock Channel. But he knew that Shandon and Wall could not be deceived, and were conscious of the failure of his hopes.

Nothing especial happened on the 6th of June; snow fell, and the prophecy of the halo came true.

For thirty-six hours the Forward followed the sinuosities of the coast of Boothia, without reaching Prince of Wales Land. Hatteras put on all steam, burning his coal extravagantly; he still intended to get further supplies on Beechey Island; on Thursday he arrived at Franklin Sound, and he still found the way northward impassable.

His position was a desperate one; he could not return; the ice pushed him onward, and he saw his path forever closing behind him, as if there were no open sea where he had passed but an hour before.

Hence, not only was the Forward unable to go toward the north, but she could not stop for a moment lest she should be imprisoned, and she fled before the ice like a ship before a storm.

Friday, June 7th,18 she arrived near the coast of Boothia, at the entrance of James Ross Sound, which had to be avoided because its only exit is to the west, close to the shore of America.

The observations taken at noon showed them to be in latitude 70° 5' 17", and longitude 96° 46' 45"; when the doctor heard this he examined his chart, and found that they were at the magnetic pole, at the very point where James Ross, the nephew of Sir John, came to determine its situation.

The land was low near the coast, and it rose only about sixty feet at the distance of a mile from the sea.

The boiler of the Forward needed cleaning; the captain anchored his ship to a field of ice, and gave the doctor leave to go ashore with the boatswain. For himself, being indifferent to everything outside of his own plans, he shut himself up in his cabin, and studied the chart of the Pole.

The doctor and his companion easily reached land; the first-named carried a compass for his experiments; he wanted to test the work of James Ross; he easily made out the mound of stones erected by him; he ran towards it; an opening in the cairn let him see a tin box in which James Ross had placed an account of his discovery. No living being had visited this lonely spot for thirty years.

At this place a needle suspended as delicately as possible assumed a nearly vertical position under the magnetic influence; hence the centre of attraction was near, if not immediately beneath, the needle.

The doctor made the experiment with all care. But if James Ross, owing to the imperfection of his instruments, found a declination of only 89° 50', the real magnetic point is found within a minute of this spot.19 Dr. Clawbonny was more fortunate, and at a little distance from there he found a declination of 90°.

"This is exactly the magnetic pole of the earth!" he cried, stamping on the ground.

"Just here?" asked Johnson.

"Precisely here, my friend!"

"Well, then," resumed the boatswain, "we must give up all the stories of a magnetic mountain or large mass."

"Yes, Johnson," answered the doctor, laughing, "those are empty hypotheses! As you see, there is no mountain capable of attracting ships, of drawing their iron from them anchor after anchor, bolt after bolt! and your shoes here are as light as anywhere in the world."

"But how do you explain – "

"There is no explanation, Johnson; we are not wise enough for that. But what is mathematically certain is that the magnetic pole is at this very spot!"

"Ah, Dr. Clawbonny, how glad the captain would be to say as much of the North Pole!"

"He'll say it, Johnson; he'll say it!"

"God grant it!" was the answer.

The doctor and his companion raised a cairn at the spot where they tried their experiment, and the signal for their return being made, they returned to the ship at five o'clock of the evening.

CHAPTER XVII

THE FATE OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN

The Forward succeeded, though not without difficulty, in getting by James Ross Sound, by frequent use of the ice-saws and gunpowder; the crew was very much fatigued. Fortunately the temperature was agreeable, and even thirty degrees above what James Ross found at the same time of year. The thermometer marked 34°.

Saturday they doubled Cape Felix at the northern end of King William's Land, one of the smaller islands of northern seas.

At that time the crew became very much depressed; they gazed wistfully and sadly at its far-stretching shores.

In fact, they were gazing at King William's Land, the scene of one of the saddest tragedies of modern times! Only a few miles to the west the Erebus and Terror were lost.

The sailors of the Forward were familiar with the attempts made to find Franklin, and the result they had obtained, but they did not know all the sad details. Now, while the doctor was following on his chart the course of the ship, many of them, Bell, Bolton, and Simpson, drew near him and began to talk with him. Soon the others followed to satisfy their curiosity; meanwhile the brig was advancing rapidly, and the bays, capes, and promontories of the coast passed before their gaze like a gigantic panorama.

Hatteras was pacing nervously to and fro on the quarter-deck; the doctor found himself on the bridge, surrounded by the men of the crew; he readily understood the interest of the situation, and the impression that would be made by an account given under those circumstances, hence he resumed the talk he had begun with Johnson.

"You know, my friends, how Franklin began: like Cook and Nelson, he was first a cabin-boy; after spending his youth in long sea-voyages, he made up his mind, in 1845, to seek the Northwest Passage; he commanded the Erebus and the Terror, two stanch vessels, which had visited the antarctic seas in 1840, under the command of James Ross. The Erebus, in which Franklin sailed, carried a crew of seventy men, all told, with Fitz-James as captain; Gore and Le Vesconte, lieutenants; Des Voeux, Sargent, and Couch, boatswains; and Stanley, surgeon. The Terror carried sixty-eight men. Crozier was the captain; the lieutenants were Little, Hodgson, and Irving; boatswains, Horesby and Thomas; the surgeon, Peddie. In the names of the bays, capes, straits, promontories, channels, and islands of these latitudes you find memorials of most of these unlucky men, of whom not one has ever again seen his home! In all one hundred and thirty-eight men! We know that the last of Franklin's letters were written from Disco Island, and dated July 12, 1845. He said, 'I hope to set sail to-night for Lancaster Sound.' What followed his departure from Disco Bay? The captains of the whalers, the Prince of Wales and the Enterprise, saw these two ships for the last time in Melville Bay, and nothing more was heard of them. Still we can follow Franklin in his course westward; he went through Lancaster and Barrow Sounds and reached Beechey Island, where he passed the winter of 1845-46."

"But how is this known?" asked Bell, the carpenter.

"By three tombs which the Austin expedition found there in 1850. Three of Franklin's sailors had been buried there; and, moreover, by a paper found by Lieutenant Hobson of the Fox, dated April 25, 1848. We know also that, after leaving winter-quarters, the Erebus and Terror ascended Wellington Channel as far as latitude 77°; but instead of pushing to the north, which they doubtless found impossible, they returned towards the south – "

"And that was a fatal mistake!" uttered a grave voice. "Safety lay to the north."

Every one turned round. It was Hatteras, who, leaning on the rail of the quarter-deck, had just made that solemn remark.

"Without doubt," resumed the doctor, "Franklin intended to make his way to the American shore; but tempests beset him, and September 12, 1846, the two ships were caught in the ice, a few miles from here, to the northwest of Cape Felix; they were carried to the north-northwest of Point Victory; there," said the doctor, pointing out to the sea. "Now," he added, "the ships were not abandoned till April 22, 1848. What happened during these nineteen months? What did these poor men do? Doubtless they explored the surrounding lands, made every effort to escape, for the admiral was an energetic man; and if he did not succeed – "

"It's because his men betrayed him," said Hatteras in a deep voice.

The sailors did not dare to lift their eyes; these words made them feel abashed.

"To be brief, this paper, of which I spoke, tells us, besides, that Sir John Franklin died, worn out by his sufferings, June 11, 1847. All honor to his memory!" said the doctor, removing his hat.

The men did the same in silence.

"What became of these poor men, deprived of their leader, during the next ten months? They remained on board of their ships, and it was not till April, 1848, that they made up their mind to abandon them; one hundred and five men survived out of the hundred and thirty-eight. Thirty-three had died! Then Captains Crozier and Fitz-James erected a cairn at Point Victory, and left their last paper there. See, my friends, we are passing by that point. You can see traces of the cairn, placed, so to speak, at the farthest point reached by John Ross in 1831! There is Cape Jane Franklin! There Point Franklin! There Point Le Vesconte! There Erebus Bay, where the launch, made of pieces of one of the ships, was found on a sledge! There were found silver spoons, plenty of food, chocolate, tea, and religious books. The hundred and five survivors, under the command of Captain Crozier, set out for Great Fish River. How far did they get? Did they reach Hudson's Bay? Have any survived? What became of them after that? – "

"I will tell you what became of them," said John Hatteras in an energetic voice. "Yes, they tried to reach Hudson's Bay, and separated into several parties. They took the road to the south. In 1854 a letter from Dr. Rae states that in 1850 the Esquimaux had met in King William's Land a detachment of forty men, chasing sea-cows, travelling on the ice, dragging a boat along with them, thin, pale, and worn out with suffering and fatigue. Later, they discovered thirty corpses on the mainland and five on a neighboring island, some half buried, others left without burial; some lying beneath an overturned boat, others under the ruins of a tent; here lay an officer with his glass swung around his shoulder, and his loaded gun near him; farther on were kettles with the remains of a horrible meal. At this news, the Admiralty urged the Hudson's Bay Company to send its most skilful agents to this place. They descended Black River to its mouth. They visited Montreal and Maconochie Islands, and Point Ogle. In vain! All these poor fellows had died of misery, suffering, and starvation, after trying to prolong their lives by having recourse to cannibalism. That is what became of them along their way towards the south, which was lined with their mutilated bodies. Well, do you want to follow their path?"

Hatteras's ringing voice, passionate gestures, and glowing face produced an indescribable effect. The crew, moved by the sight of these ill-omened lands, cried with one voice, —

"To the north! to the north!"

"Well, to the north! Safety and glory await us there at the north! Heaven is declaring for us! The wind is changing! The passage is free! Prepare to go about!"

The sailors hastened to their places; the ice-streams grew slowly free; the Forward went about rapidly, and ran under full steam towards MacClintock's Channel.

Hatteras was justified in counting on a freer sea; on his way he retraced the probable path of Franklin; he went along the eastern side of Prince of Wales Land, which is clearly defined, while the other shore is still unknown. Evidently the clearing away of the ice towards the south took place through the eastern strait, for it appeared perfectly clear; so the Forward was able to make up for lost time; she was put under full steam, so that the 14th they passed Osborne Bay, and the farthest points reached by the expeditions of 1851. There was still a great deal of ice about them, but there was every indication that the Forward would have clear sailing-way before her.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE WAY NORTHWARD

The crew seemed to have returned to their habits of discipline and obedience. Their duties were slight and infrequent, so that they had plenty of leisure. The temperature never fell below the freezing-point, and the thaw removed the greatest obstacles from their path.

Duke had made friends with Dr. Clawbonny. They got on admirably together. But as in friendship one friend is always sacrificed to the other, it must be said that the doctor was not the other. Duke did with him whatever he pleased. The doctor obeyed him as a dog obeys his master. Moreover, Duke conducted himself very amicably with most of the officers and sailors; only, instinctively doubtless, he avoided Shandon; he had, too, a grudge against Pen and Foker; his hatred for them manifested itself in low growls when they came near him. They, for their part, did not dare attack the captain's dog, "his familiar spirit," as Clifton called him.

In a word, the crew had taken courage again.

"It seems to me," said James Wall one day to Richard Shandon, "that the men took the captain's words for earnest; they seem to be sure of success."

"They are mistaken," answered Shandon; "if they would only reflect, and consider our condition, they would see we are simply going from one imprudence to another."

"Still," resumed Wall, "we are in a more open sea; we are going along a well-known route; don't you exaggerate somewhat, Shandon?"

"Not a bit, Wall; the hate and jealousy, if you please, with which Hatteras inspires me, don't blind my eyes. Say, have you seen the coal-bunkers lately?"

"No," answered Wall.

"Well! go below, and you'll see how near we are to the end of our supply. By right, we ought to be going under sail, and only starting our engine to make headway against currents or contrary winds; our fuel ought to be burned only with the strictest economy, for who can say where and for how long we may be detained? But Hatteras is pushed by this mania of going forward, of reaching the inaccessible Pole, and he doesn't care for such a detail. Whether the wind is fair or foul, he goes on under steam; and if he goes on we run a risk of being very much embarrassed, if not lost."

"Is that so, Shandon? That is serious!"

"You are right, Wall, it is; not only would the engine be of no use to us if we got into a tight place, but what are we to do in the winter? We ought to take some precautions against the cold in a country where the mercury often freezes in the thermometer."

"But if I'm not mistaken, Shandon, the captain intends getting a new supply at Beechey Island; they say there is a great quantity there."

"Can any one choose where he'll go in these seas, Wall? Can one count on finding such or such a channel free of ice? And if he misses Beechey Island, or can't reach it, what is to become of us?"

"You are right, Shandon; Hatteras seems to me unwise; but why don't you say something of this sort to him?"

"No, Wall," answered Shandon, with ill-disguised bitterness, "I have made up my mind not to say a word; I am not responsible any longer for the ship; I shall await events; if I receive any commands, I obey, and I don't proclaim my opinions."

"Let me tell you you are wrong, Shandon; for the well-being of all is at stake, and the captain's imprudence may cost us all dear."

"And if I were to speak, Wall, would he listen to me?"

Wall did not dare say he would.

"But," he added, "he would perhaps listen to remonstrances of the crew."

"The crew," said Shandon, shrugging his shoulders; "but, my dear Wall, haven't you noticed that they care for everything else more than for their safety? They know they're getting near latitude 72°, and that a thousand pounds is paid for every degree of latitude beyond which is reached."

"You are right, Shandon," answered Wall, "and the captain has taken the surest means of securing his men."

"Without doubt," answered Shandon; "for the present, at least."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that all will go very well in the absence of all dangers and fatigues, in an open sea; Hatteras has caught them by his money; but what is done for pay is ill done. But once let hardships, dangers, discomfort, sickness, melancholy, and fierce cold stare them in the face, – and we are flying towards them now, – and you will see whether they remember the pay they are to get."

"So, in your opinion, Shandon, Hatteras will fail?"

"Exactly; he will fail. In such an enterprise, there should be an identity of interests among the leaders, a sympathy which is lacking here. Besides, Hatteras is mad; his whole past proves it! But we shall see! Circumstances may arise in which the command of the ship will have to be given to a less foolhardy captain – "

"Still," said Wall, shaking his head doubtfully, "Hatteras will always have on his side – "

"He will have," interrupted Shandon, – "he will have that Dr. Clawbonny, who only cares to study; Johnson, who is a slave to discipline, and who never takes the trouble to reason; perhaps one or two besides, like Bell, the carpenter, – four at the most, and there are eighteen on board! No, Wall, Hatteras has not the confidence of the crew; he knows it well, and he tries to make up for it by bribery; he made a good use of the account of Franklin's catastrophe to create a different feeling in their excited minds; but that won't last, I tell you; and if he don't reach Beechey Island, he is lost!"

"If the crew suspected – "

"I beg of you," said Shandon, quickly, "not to say a word about this to the crew; they'll find it out for themselves. Now, at any rate, it is well to go on towards the north. But who can say whether what Hatteras takes for a step towards the Pole may not be really retracing our steps? At the end of MacClintock Channel is Melville Bay, and thence open the straits which lead back to Baffin's Bay. Hatteras had better take care! The way west is easier than the way north."20

From these words Shandon's state of mind may be judged, and how justified the captain was in suspecting a treacherous disposition in him.

Shandon, moreover, was right when he ascribed the present satisfaction of the crew to the prospect they had of passing latitude 72°. This greed of gold seized the least audacious. Clifton had made out every one's share with great exactness. Leaving out the captain and the doctor, who could not be admitted to the division, there were sixteen men on board the Forward. The amount was a thousand pounds, that was £72 10s. for each man, for every degree.21 If they should ever reach the Pole the eighteen degrees to be crossed would give each one a sum of £1,125, a fair fortune. This whim would cost the captain £18,000; but he was rich enough to pay for such a costly trip to the Pole.

These calculations aroused wonderfully the avarice of the crew, as can be readily believed, and more than one longed to pass latitude 72°, who, a fortnight before, rejoiced to be sailing southward.

The Forward sailed by Cape Alworth June 16th. Mount Rawlinson raised its white peaks towards the sky; the snow and mist exaggerated its size so that it appeared colossal; the temperature remained a few degrees above the freezing-point; cascades and cataracts appeared on the sides of the mountain; avalanches kept falling with a roar like that of artillery. The long stretches of glaciers made a loud echo. The contrast between this wintry scene and the thaw made a wonderful sight. The brig sailed along very near the coast; they were able to see on some sheltered rocks a few bushes bearing modest little roses, some reddish moss, and a budding dwarf willow barely rising above the ground.