Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV
THE MAGNETIC POLE
The nearer Hatteras approached the Strait, the more his anxiety increased. He felt the fate of his voyage was about to be decided, for though he had outstripped all his predecessors up to this time, as even McClintock, the most fortunate of them, had taker fifteen months to reach the same place, it mattered little, indeed nothing, if he could not succeed in getting through Bellot's Strait.
He would trust the look-out to no one, but went up to the "crow's-nest" himself, and stayed there the greater part of Saturday morning.
The crew understood perfectly their critical position, and preserved an unbroken silence. The engine had slackened speed, and the brig kept to the shore as closely as possible; but it needed a practiced eye to discover the least opening among those close packs.
Hatteras was comparing his charts and the coast. The sun broke out for a brief instant before noon, and Shandon and Wall managed to take a pretty correct observation, which they reported aloud to Hatteras.
It was a trying morning for all; but at last, about two o'clock, a cry resounded from the mast-head:
"To the west, and put on steam!"
The brig instantly obeyed. She turned her prow in the given direction, and rushed forward between two ice-streams.
The entrance was found, and Hatteras gave up his post to the ice-master, and came down on the poop.
"Well, captain," said the Doctor, "we have actually entered this famous strait at last."
"Yes," replied Hatteras, lowering his voice, "but it is not enough to enter, we have to get out again."
Without another word he turned, and walked off to his cabin.
"He is right," said the Doctor, "for we are in a mousetrap, without much room to do anything; and if we are blocked in for the winter, well, we are not the first that have got into this same fix, and they got out, so I suppose we shall!"
The Doctor was right. It was in that very place that McClintock wintered in 1858, and the little dock was then in sight where he found shelter, and which he called Port Kennedy.
Bellot's Strait is about a mile wide and seventeen long, with a current running from six to seven knots. It is encased in mountains calculated at 1600 feet high. The Forward had to proceed cautiously, but still she made progress. Storms are frequent in such a narrow space, and the brig did not escape heavy seas and strong squalls of wind. In spite of every precaution taken by the captain in reefing and lowering masts and sails, it was a fatiguing strain on the ship. It was impossible almost to stand on deck, and most of the men studied their own comfort, and went off, leaving Hatteras with Shandon and Johnson. The little Doctor did not feel any more inclination than the sailors to brave the snow and rain, but, acting on his old rule, always to do that which is most disagreeable to him, he went up to bear the others company; and since he could not hear himself speak, and even barely see himself, he was obliged to keep his reflections for his own benefit.
He found Hatteras trying to pierce through the curtain of fog before him, for, according to his reckoning, they ought to have come to the end of the strait by six o'clock; but no outlet was visible, and the only thing that could be done was to anchor the ship fast to an iceberg, and wait till morning.
It was fearful weather; every instant it seemed as if the Forward would snap her chains, and there was great danger of the iceberg itself giving way beneath the violence of the west wind, and drifting along, ship and all. The officers were on the qui vive the whole night, and felt the gravest apprehensions. There was not only a perfect waterspout of snow, but showers of hail lashed up by the hurricane from the ice-fields; the whole atmosphere was, as it were, bristling with sharp arrows.
Strangely enough, there was a great rise in the temperature during this fearful night. The thermometer stood at 57°, and the Doctor, to his great surprise, thought he saw several flashes of lightning in the south, followed by very distant thunder.
About five in the morning, the weather changed again with astonishing rapidity, and the thermometer fell to freezing point. The wind veered north, and became calm. The western opening of the strait was now visible enough, but it looked entirely blocked up. Hatteras almost doubted whether it had ever been the opening.
However, the brig got under way again, and glided slowly along between the ice-streams, crushing the edges of the packs against her side timbers. The packs were still six to eight feet thick, and the utmost care was necessary to avoid coming into collision with any of them.
At noon, and for the first time, a magnificent solar phenomenon was observed, a halo with two parhelia. The Doctor took the exact dimensions: the outer corona was only visible for about 30° on each side of the horizontal diameter. The two images of the sun were remarkably distinct. The colors of both the arches were red nearest the sun, and then yellow, green, and very pale blue, fading into white outside.
Old sailors in the Arctic seas generally consider this phenomenon the presage of a heavy snowfall. Should their opinion prove correct, it would place the Forward in a still more awkward position. Hatteras felt that everything depended on getting forward without delay. He spent the remainder of the day and the whole of the night following on deck, without allowing himself a moment's rest, seeking for some practicable lead.
But next morning, when the Doctor joined him on the poop, he beckoned him right away to the after part of the ship, where they were quite out of ear-shot, and said:
"We are caught! It is impossible to get any farther."
"Impossible?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes, impossible! All the powder in the Forward would not gain a quarter of a mile for us."
"What's to be done, then?"
"Who knows? Confound this weather. It is an ill-omened year.
"Well, captain, if we must winter here, we must—that's all! As well here as anywhere else."
"True enough!" said Hatteras, in a low voice; "but we must not winter, especially in the month of June. Wintering at all is full of moral and physical danger. A crew soon becomes enervated by inactivity, combined with positive suffering, and I had made up my mind not to winter till we were in a much more northerly latitude."
"But Fate decreed that Baffin's Bay should be closed."
"Ay! and it could open for others—for that American!" exclaimed Hatteras, angrily.
"Come, Hatteras," said the Doctor; "this is only the 5th of June. Don't let us despair. A sudden opening may occur. You know the tendency of the ice to separate, even in calm weather. Perhaps in less than an hour there may be a free outlet."
"I wish it may be so, we would soon get through it, and once outside this strait we may be able to go north again by Peel's Strait, or the McClintock Channel. Then we———"
"Captain," said James Wall, interrupting him suddenly, "our rudder runs the risk of being torn away by the packs."
"Well, it must take its chance; I cannot have it removed. I wish to be ready at any hour, both day and night. See that it is protected as much as possible, Mr. Wall, by avoiding coming into contact with the ice; but let it remain in its place, remember."
"But———" said Wall.
"I wish for no remarks, sir!" said Hatteras, sternly. "Go."
Wall returned to his post, and Hatteras exclaimed passionately:
"Oh! I would give five years of my life to find myself at the north. I know no passage that is more dangerous than this, and to increase the difficulty, now that we are getting near the magnetic pole, the compass there is not acting properly, the needle seems getting lazy or foolish, for it is constantly shifting its direction."
"I must confess it is perilous navigation now; but after all, everyone who joined the expedition knew the dangers he had to expect, so he needn't be surprised."
"Ah, Doctor, my crew are very much changed, and, as you have just heard, the officers begin to set up their opinion. The pecuniary advantages offered to the sailors made them engage in the service; but the worst of it is, when men join like that, all they care for is to get home again, and be paid as quickly as possible. Then, too, I am not seconded by my officers as I ought to be, Doctor. If I fail in my undertaking it will not be the fault of such and such a sailor, but through the ill-will of certain officers. Ah, won't I make them pay dearly for it!"
"Hatteras, you are exaggerating."
"I am not exaggerating in the least. Do you believe the sailors are sorry we cannot get north? On the contrary, they rejoice in my difficulties, thinking I shall be forced to relinquish my project. That is the secret of our hearing no grumbling just now. As long as the Forward has her beak head to the south, they are all ready enough to work. The fools! They fancy they are always nearer England! But if I succeed in getting north, you will see things change. However, I swear that not a single human being will make me go out of my track. Let me only find the smallest opening to get my brig through, and in she'll go, even if she has to leave her copper bottom behind her."
The captain was destined to get his wishes partially realized, for in the course of the evening, as the Doctor had said, there was a sudden change The ice-fields cracked and opened, and the Forward boldly dashed in between them, crushing the loose ice with her metal prow. She went without stopping all night, and next morning, about six o'clock, got outside the strait.
But what was the captain's secret vexation to find the way to the north still obstinately shut against him. He had sufficient self-command to conceal his despair, and as if the only route open had been the very one he preferred, he sailed down Franklin's Strait; not being able to get north by Peel's Strait, he determined to go round the point and up the McClintock Channel. But he felt that Shandon and Wall were not deceived; they well understood his bitter disappointment.
For thirty-six hours the Forward followed the windings of the Coast of Boothia, without getting near Prince of Wales Island. Hatteras raised the steam, burning away the coals in prodigal fashion, always hoping to replenish his store at Isle Beechey. On Thursday he reached the extremity of Franklin's Strait, and again found the route to the north barred against him.
His situation was hopeless now. He could not even go back, for the heavy packs were pushing him continually forward, and what had been open water but an hour before when the brig passed through, was now solid ice.
It was a terrible predicament for the Forward, for she could not get north, and yet dared not stop for fear of a crush. All that she could do was to flee as if before a storm.
On Friday, the 8th June, he arrived at the mouth of James Ross's Strait, one which he must avoid at any cost, for it had no outlet except to the west, right on the American coast. The longitude here was found to be 90° 46' 45", and the latitude 70° 5' 17". On referring to the map the Doctor discovered they had reached the magnetic pole, for this was the very part where it had been discovered by James Ross.
The shore near the coast was flat, rising in the background about a mile from the sea to a height of about sixty feet.
Finding that the boiler needed to be cleaned, the captain anchored his brig to the ice, and allowed the Doctor and Johnson to go ashore. As for himself, he felt no interest in anything that was not immediately connected with his projects, and only cared to shut himself up in his cabin and pore over his charts.
The Doctor and his companion were soon on land, carrying a compass with them for their experiments. The Doctor wished to test for himself the accuracy of James Ross's observations. He easily discerned the heap of chalk stones he had set up, and on hastening towards it, perceived through an opening the identical tin case in which he had deposited a minute account of his discovery. Not a single human being seemed to have visited this dreary coast for thirty long years!
If a magnetized needle is suspended here as delicately as possible, it will immediately assume an almost vertical position under the magnetic influence. The center of attraction then, if not exactly below the needle, must be but a very short distance off.
The Doctor made his experiments with the utmost care, and was more successful than even James Ross, who could never get a higher declination for his vertical needle than 89° 59', owing to the imperfection of his instruments, while Dr. Clawbonny had the extreme satisfaction of seeing his needle indicate a declination of exactly 90°.
"This, then," he said, tapping the ground with his foot, "is the actual magnetic pole of our globe."
"Is it just here?" asked Johnson.
"In this precise spot."
"I suppose then it is all nonsense to talk about a magnetic mountain, or a mass of lodestone!"
"Yes, my good fellow, it is all 'old wives' fables.' As you see for yourself, there is not a sign of a mountain endowed with the power of attracting ships, and tearing away their iron, down to anchors and nails. Even your boots do not feel any heavier, as if they were dragging you down, do they? You can walk as easily here as anywhere else."
"But how can it be explained?"
"It can't be explained. We are not learned enough for that yet. But this one thing is an ascertained mathematical fact—the magnetic pole is here, in this very place."
"Ah! Mr. Clawbonny, what would the captain give if he could say as much of the North Pole?"
"He will say it some day, Johnson, that he will."
"I fervently hope he may."
Just at this moment the signal was made for their return, and after hastily erecting a cairn to mark the exact spot, they hurried back to the brig.