Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV
THE FORWARD DRIVEN SOUTH
The weather cleared towards evening, and the shore became visible between Cape Sepping and Cape Clarence. The sea was open towards Regent Inlet, but as if the Fates had conspired against the Forward's progress north, there was still an impassable barrier of ice, which shut them out from Port Leopold.
Hatteras, who was extremely annoyed, though he did not show it outwardly in the least degree, had to fall back on his powder again to force an entrance, but he succeeded in getting in by mid-day on Sunday, the 27th of May, and safely moored his brig to great icebergs hard and solid as rocks.
A few minutes afterwards he jumped down on the ice and went ashore, followed by the Doctor and Johnson, and the faithful Duk, who was almost frantic with joy at being on land again. He had grown much more sociable and gentle since his master was acknowledged captain, reserving his animosity for certain folks among the crew, who were no greater favorites with him than they were with Hatteras.
The port inside was unusually free from ice, and the steep perpendicular cliffs were gracefully wreathed with snow. The house and beacon constructed by James Ross were still in a tolerable state of preservation, but the provisions had been ransacked by the foxes and bears, and showed marks of recent visits from them. Likely enough, two-footed marauders had been there too, for ruins of Esquimaux huts were visible about the bay.
The six graves, marked by little hillocks, where six of the crews of the Enterprise and Investigator lay buried, remained intact, respected alike by man and beast.
It is impossible to set foot for the first time on Artic ground without a feeling of peculiar emotion, as one relic and another is discovered, and the excitable little Doctor was almost overcome.
"Look!" he said to his companions; "there is the house that James Ross called 'The Camp of refuge!' If Franklin's Expedition had reached this spot it would have been saved. There is the very engine Ross left behind, too, and the stove where the crew of the Albert warmed themselves in 1851, looking just as if Kennedy, the captain, had but just quitted the place yesterday! And there is the sloop that sheltered him and his party for several days when they got separated from the ship, and must have perished but for Lieutenant Bellott, who set out to seek them, even though it was October."
"I knew Bellott," said Johnson, "and a brave, noble officer he was."
While the Doctor was pursuing his investigations with all the enthusiasm of an antiquary, Hatteras was busily exploring in all directions for food and fuel, though he met with small success. The next day was employed in carrying what he had found to the ship. The Doctor meantime continued his rambles, taking care not to get too far away. He sketched a good many of the principal objects of interest, and managed to make a pretty fair collection of the different varieties of Arctic birds. He also saw several large seals, lying by their breathing-holes on the ice, but could not shoot any of them. In one of his excursions he discovered a large stone with this inscription on it:
[E. I.]
1849.
These were the initials of the Enterprise and Investigator, a memento left behind of their voyage He went on as far as Cape Clarence, where John and James Ross waited, in 1833, so impatiently, for the breaking up of the ice. The ground was strewn over with bones and the skulls of animals, and traces were seen of Esquimaux huts.
The Doctor was thinking of setting up a cairn at Port Leopold, with a written statement in it of the arrival of the Forward, and the object of the expedition, but Hatteras was so decidedly opposed to leaving any indications whatever of their progress, lest some rival should take advantage of them, that the Doctor had to abandon his project. Shandon greatly blamed the captain's infatuation, as in the event of any misfortune happening to the Forward no vessel could go to her rescue.
But Hatteras would listen to no reason, and the moment loading was completed he recommenced his efforts to break through the ice. After many dangerous attempts, however, he was forced to give it up, and go back the way he came, through Regent's Inlet, for he would not winter in Port Leopold for anything. It was open meantime, certainly, but a sudden dislodgment of the ice-fields might close them in any moment.
Hatteras was almost distracted with anxiety, though there was no outward manifestation of it. He had no alternative but to turn his ship and go south, come what might.
Regent's Channel is about the same width the whole extent from Port Leopold to Adelaide Bay. The Forward was more fortunate than most ships, for she made an uninterrupted passage through, thanks to her steam, instead of beating about for a month or more, often driven back by contrary winds.
Most of the crew were well content to turn their backs on the north. They had no sympathy with the captain's project of reaching the Pole—indeed, they were almost terrified at him, dreading what next he might attempt, for they knew how little he cared for consequences.
It was evening when the brig came in sight of Edwin Bay, easily recognized by its high perpendicular rocks; and the next morning she saw Batty Bay in the distance, where the Prince Albert spent her long dreary winter.
The Doctor and Johnson, perhaps, were the only individuals on board who took any interest in the country. Hatteras was always poring over his charts, and hardly spoke a word. The farther south they went, the more taciturn he become, often sitting on the poop for hours together, with folded arms, gazing gloomily on the horizon, and any orders he gave were in the fewest words possible and in sharp, stern tones. Shandon kept himself aloof as much as he could, and gradually withdrew from all intercourse with Hatteras beyond what actual business required. James Wall was still devoted to Shandon, and faithfully copied his example. The rest of the crew were watching the course of events, ready to take the side that would be best for their own interests. There was no longer on the ship that unity of purpose and interchange of sentiment which is so necessary for the accomplishment of great things. Hatteras knew this well.
Two whales were seen during the day, and a white bear, but time was too precious to waste in pursuit of them, though a few ineffectual shots were fired.
On Wednesday morning the extremity of the inlet was reached, and the brig pursued her course, keeping along the west coast round a point, which, on referring to the chart, the Doctor found was Somerset House, or Fury Point.
"This, then," he said to Johnson, "is the very point where the Fury was so broken by the ice in 1815 that she had to be abandoned, and her crew went on board her consort, the Hecla, and returned home to England."
"That is the advantage of having a second ship, you see," replied Johnson; "but Captain Hatteras is not the man to be fettered with a companion!"
"Do you think that it is imprudent of him, Johnson?" asked Clawbonny.
"I? I think nothing about it, Mr. Clawbonny. Stop! Do you see those stakes on the shore, with tattered rags hanging on them, as if a tent had once been there?"
"Yes, Johnson; it was there that Parry disembarked his ship's stores; and, if my memory is correct, the roof of the house he built was made of a topsail, covered over with the running rigging of the Fury."
"But that was in 1825. It must be very much changed since then."
"Not altogether though, Johnson. In 1829, John Ross found that little frail hut life and health to his crew. In 1851, when Prince Albert sent out an expedition, it was still standing. Captain Kennedy had it repaired, and that was nine years ago. It would be an interesting memorial to go ashore and examine, but Hatteras is not in the mood to stop!"
"And there is no doubt he is right, Mr Clawbonny. If time is money in England, out here it is salvation; and to stop a day—ay, even an hour—might ruin a voyage. Let him act as he thinks right."
On Thursday, the 1st of June, the weather became milder, the thermometer rising to thirty-two degrees. Summer made its influence felt even in those Artic regions, and the men were glad to lay aside some of their winter coverings.
Towards evening, the Forward doubled Cape Garry, about a quarter of a mile from shore, and went on to Brentford Bay, keeping as close to the coast as possible, for the fog had increased with the heat, and a close watch was necessary for the discovery of Bellot's Strait. It was somewhere in this latitude, but, if closed by ice, so perfectly undistinguishable from the land, that Sir John Ross never suspected its existence even in 1828, and, though he noted down and named the smallest irregularities with the greatest care on his charts, he made this one continuous coast.
It was Captain Kennedy who really discovered the Straits in 1852, and called them after the French officer, as a just tribute of gratitude for the important services he had rendered the expedition.