A severe gale arose, and the boats were nearly crushed in the ice, but a day later they succeeded in putting off from the shore. The Faith led the way, with Captain Kane aboard. Then followed the Red Eric, with most of the provisions, and last of all, the Hope. These three small boats were now embarked on a sea in which the hardiest whaling vessel might easily founder.
The party were all hopeful until provisions were exhausted; then the stoutest hearts failed. Even Kane despaired of ever reaching a settlement, but he was too brave a leader to allow his men to know this, and he encouraged them in every way possible. The men grew so weak from want of food that they were scarcely able to guide the boats.
The ice had knocked holes in each of the boats, and they had to be constantly baled to keep them from sinking. When everything looked darkest, one of the party saw a large seal floating on a piece of ice a short distance away. The half-starved men became so excited that they could hardly handle the oars. Every preparation was made to steal quietly toward the animal, which seemed to be asleep. Stockings were placed over the oars to deaden the sound, and a man named Peterson, who was thought to be the best shot of the party, was stationed in the bow with the rifle.
Silently the oarsmen guided the boat toward the piece of ice where the seal was lying. When they were almost within rifle shot, the seal lifted its head and saw the boat. The men were filled with despair as they saw the animal move toward the sea as if to plunge in. They all looked anxiously at Peterson, for their lives depended upon him. Poor Peterson was trembling with nervousness and weakness. His hands shook, but with a great effort he steadied himself and fired. Instantly the seal fell over on its side.
