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[page 143, continued:]
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CHAPTER XVII.
WE kept our
course
southwardly
for four days after giving up the search for Glass's Islands, without
meeting
with any ice at all. On the twenty-sixth, at noon, we were in latitude
63° 23' S., longitude 41° 25' W. We now saw several large ice
islands,
and a floe of field ice, not, however, of any great extent. The winds
generally
blew from the southeast, or the northeast, but were very light.
Whenever
we had a westerly wind, which was seldom, it was invariably attended
with
a rain squall. Every day we had more or less snow. The thermometer, on
the twenty-seventh stood at thirty-five. [page 144:]
January 1, 1828. This
day we found
ourselves
completely hemmed in by the ice, and our prospects looked cheerless
indeed.
A strong gale blew, during the whole forenoon, from the northeast, and
drove large cakes of the drift against the rudder and counter with such
violence that we all trembled for the consequences. Towards evening,
the
gale still blowing with fury, a large field in front separated, and we
were enabled, by carrying a press of sail, to force a passage through
the
smaller flakes into some open water beyond. As we approached this space
we took in sail by degrees, and having at length got clear, lay to
under
a single reefed foresail.
January 2. We had now
tolerably
pleasant
weather. At noon we found ourselves in latitude 69° 10' S,
longitude
42° 20' W, having crossed the Antarctic circle. Very little ice was
to be seen to the southward, although large fields of it lay behind us.
This day we rigged some sounding gear, using a large iron pot capable
of
holding twenty gallons, and a line of two hundred fathoms. We found the
current setting to the north, about a quarter of a mile per hour. The
temperature
of the air was now about thirty-three. Here we found the variation to
be
14° 28' easterly, per azimuth.
January 5. We had still
held on to
the
southward without any very great impediments. On this morning, however,
being in latitude 73° 15' E., longitude 42° 10' W, we were
again
brought to a stand by an immense expanse of firm ice. We saw,
nevertheless,
much open water to the southward, and felt no doubt of being able to
reach
it eventually. Standing to the eastward along the edge of the floe, we
at length came to a passage of about a mile in width, through which we
warped our way by sundown. The sea in which we now were was thickly
covered
with ice islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as
before.
The cold did not seem to increase, although we had snow very
frequently,
and now and then hail squalls of great violence. Immense flocks of the
albatross flew over the schooner this day, going from southeast to
northwest. [page 144:]
January 7. The sea
still remained
pretty
well open, so that we had no difficulty in holding on our course. To
the
westward we saw some icebergs of incredible size, and in the afternoon
passed very near one whose summit could not have been less than four
hundred
fathoms from the surface of the ocean. Its girth was probably, at the
base,
three quarters of a league, and several streams of water were running
from
crevices in its sides. We remained in sight of this island two days,
and
then only lost it in a fog.
January 10. Early this
morning we
had
the misfortune to lose a man overboard. He was an American, named Peter
Vredenburgh, a native of New-York, and was one of the most valuable
hands
on board the schooner. In going over the bows his foot slipped, and he
fell between two cakes of ice, never rising again. At noon of this day
we were in latitude 78° 30', longitude 40° 15' W. The cold was
now excessive, and we had hail squalls continually from the northward
and
eastward. In this direction also we saw several more immense icebergs,
and the whole horizon to the eastward appeared to be blocked up with
field
ice, rising in tiers, one mass above the other. Some driftwood floated
by during the evening, and a great quantity of birds flew over, among
which
were Nellies, peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird of a brilliant
blue
plumage. The variation here, per azimuth, was less than it had been
previously
to our passing the Antarctic circle.
January 12. Our passage
to the
south
again looked doubtful, as nothing was to be seen in the direction of
the
pole but one apparently limitless floe, backed by absolute mountains of
ragged ice, one precipice of which arose frowningly above the other. We
stood to the westward until the fourteenth, in the hope of finding an
entrance.
January 14. This
morning we reached
the western extremity of the field which had impeded us, and,
weathering
it, came to an open sea, without a particle of ice. Upon sounding with
two hundred fathoms, we here found a current setting southwardly at the
rate of half a mile [page 146:] per hour. The
temperature
of the air was forty-seven, that of the water thirty-four. We now
sailed
to the southward, without meeting any interruption of moment until the
sixteenth, when, at noon, we were in latitude 81° 21', longitude
42°
W. We here again sounded, and found a current setting still
southwardly,
and at the rate of three quarters of a mile per hour. The variation per
azimuth had diminished, and the temperature of the air was mild and
pleasant,
the thermometer being as high as fifty-one. At this period not a
particle
of ice was to be discovered. All hands on board now felt certain of
attaining
the pole.
January 17. This day
was full of
incident.
Innumerable flights of birds flew over us from the southward, and
several
were shot from the deck; one of them, a species of pelican, proved to
be
excellent eating. About midday a small floe of ice was seen from the
masthead
off the larboard bow, and upon it there appeared to be some large
animal.
As the weather was good and nearly calm, Captain Guy ordered out two of
the boats to see what it was. Dirk Peters and myself accompanied the
mate
in the larger boat. Upon coming up with the floe, we perceived that it
was in the possession of a gigantic creature of the race of the Arctic
bear, but far exceeding in size the largest of these animals. Being
well
armed, we made no scruple of attacking it at once. Several shots were
fired
in quick succession, the most of which took effect, apparently, in the
head and body. Nothing discouraged, however, the monster threw himself
from the ice, and swam, with open jaws, to the boat in which were
Peters
and myself. Owing to the confusion which ensued among us at this
unexpected
turn of the adventure, no person was ready immediately with a second
shot,
and the bear had actually succeeded in getting half his vast bulk
across
our gunwale, and seizing one of the men by the small of his back,
before
any efficient means were taken to repel him. In this extremity nothing
but the promptness and agility of Peters saved us from destruction.
Leaping
upon the back of the huge beast, he plunged the blade of a knife behind
the neck, [page 147:] reaching the spinal marrow
at
a blow. The brute tumbled into the sea lifeless, and without a
struggle,
rolling over Peters as he fell. The latter soon recovered himself, and
a rope being thrown him, he secured the carcass before entering the
boat.
We then returned in triumph to the schooner, towing our trophy behind
us.
This bear, upon admeasurement, proved to be full fifteen feet in his
greatest
length. His wool was perfectly white, and very coarse, curling tightly.
The eyes were of a blood red, and larger than those of the Arctic bear
— the snout also more rounded, rather resembling the snout of the
bulldog.
The meat was tender, but excessively rank and fishy, although the men
devoured
it with avidity, and declared it excellent eating.
Scarcely had we got our prize
alongside, when the
man at the masthead gave the joyful shout of "land on the starboard
bow!" All hands were now upon the alert, and, a breeze springing up
very opportunely from the northward and eastward, we were soon close in
with the coast. It proved to be a low rocky islet, of about a league in
circumference, and altogether destitute of vegetation, if we except a
species
of prickly pear. In approaching it from the northward, a singular ledge
of rock is seen projecting into the sea, and bearing a strong
resemblance
to corded bales of cotton. Around this ledge to the westward is a small
bay, at the bottom of which our boats effected a convenient landing.
It did not take us long to explore
every portion
of the island, but, with one exception, we found nothing worthy of
observation.
In the southern extremity, we picked up near the shore, half buried in
a pile of loose stones, a piece of wood, which seemed to have formed
the
prow of a canoe. There had been evidently some attempt at carving upon
it, and Captain Guy fancied that he made out the figure of a tortoise,
but the resemblance did not strike me very forcibly. Besides this prow,
if such it were, we found no other token that any living creature had
ever
been here before. Around the coast we discovered occasional small floes
of ice — but these were very few. The exact situation of the islet (to
which [page 148:] Captain Guy gave the name of
Bennet's
Islet, in honour of his partner in the ownership of the schooner) is
82°
50' S. latitude, 42° 20' W. longitude.
We had now advanced to the southward
more than
eight
degrees farther than any previous navigators, and the sea still lay
perfectly
open before us. We found, too, that the variation uniformly decreased
as
we proceeded, and, what was still more surprising, that the temperature
of the air, and latterly of the water, became milder. The weather might
even be called pleasant, and we had a steady but very gentle breeze
always
from some northern point of the compass. The sky was usually clear,
with
now and then a slight appearance of thin vapour in the southern horizon
— this, however, was invariably of brief duration. Two difficulties
alone
presented themselves to our view; we were getting short of fuel, and
symptoms
of scurvy had occurred among several of the crew. These considerations
began to impress upon Captain Guy the necessity of returning, and he
spoke
of it frequently. For my own part, confident as I was of soon arriving
at land of some description upon the course we were pursuing, and
having
every reason to believe, from present appearances, that we should not
find
it the steril [[sterile]] soil met with in the higher Arctic latitudes,
I warmly pressed upon him the expediency of persevering, at least for a
few days longer, in the direction we were now holding. So tempting an
opportunity
of solving the great problem in regard to an Antarctic continent had
never
yet been afforded to man, and I confess that I felt myself bursting
with
indignation at the timid and ill-timed suggestions of our commander. I
believe, indeed, that what I could not refrain from saying to him on
this
head had the effect of inducing him to push on. While, therefore, I
cannot
but lament the most unfortunate and bloody events which immediately
arose
from my advice, I must still be allowed to feel some degree of
gratification
at having been instrumental, however remotely, in opening to the eye of
science one of the most intensely exciting secrets which has ever
engrossed
its attention. |
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