Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
A WHALE CHASE
Melville Sound, though perfectly navigable, was not free from ice. Extensive ice-fields stretched beyond as far as the eye could reach, with solitary icebergs appearing here and there, standing motionless, as if anchored firmly to the glaciers.
But the Forward found good leads everywhere, and steamed rapidly along, in spite of the variable wind, which kept shifting from one point of the compass to another.
The sudden changes of the wind are most remarkable in these Arctic Seas. Often, but a few minutes will separate a dead calm from a strong tempest, as Hatteras found to his cost on the 23rd of June, just as he reached the middle of the immense bay.
The most constant winds are those which blow from the polar ice-belt towards the open water, and these are extremely cold. On this day the thermometer sank several degrees, and the wind suddenly veered south. Thick snow began to fall, and such violent gusts of wind arose, that Hatteras ordered all the sails to be close-reefed; but, before his commands could be executed, one of the smaller yards was already torn away.
Hatteras never left the deck while the gale lasted, though the fury of the blast compelled him to change his position. There he stood, issuing his orders with the most imperturbable calmness, though the sea was lashed mountains high by the raging tempest, and his brig was tossed up and down on the waves like a child's toy—now borne aloft perpendicularly on the crest of some gigantic billow, her steel prow gleaming for an instant in the light; and then precipitated into an abyss amidst clouds of smoke, her stern and screw rising completely out of the water; rain and snow all the time falling in torrents.
The Doctor, of course, could not lose the opportunity of getting drenched to the skin. He stayed on deck with the rest, in silent admiration of the grandeur of the spectacle; and he found his endurance well repaid by the sight of a peculiar phenomenon, which is only observable in polar latitudes.
The storm raged within certain limits, not extending farther than three or four miles. This arises from the fact that, in passing over the ice-fields, the wind is robbed of much of its power, and its fury is soon exhausted. Every now and then, in a fall of the swell the Doctor caught glimpses of a clear sky and a calm sea beyond the ice. The brig had only to go right forward to get into smooth sailing; but she ran the risk of being dashed to pieces in the transit. However, after some hours, Hatteras succeeded in getting beyond the storm, though only by a few cable-lengths, leaving it still raging in the distance.
The appearance of the bay was totally altered. A great number of bergs had become detached from the coast ice by the double influence of wind and waves; and these were scudding along towards the north, crossing and clashing against each other in every direction. They could be counted by hundreds, but the Sound was so wide that the Forward found little difficulty in steering clear of them. It was a magnificent sight; for the moving masses, being endowed with unequal degrees of velocity, seemed like so many runners on a vast race-course.
The Doctor was surveying the scene with enthusiastic admiration, when Simpson, the harpooner, came up, and drew his attention to the changing tints of the sea, from bright blue to olive green.
Long bands stretched from north to south, with the edges so sharply marked, that the line of demarcation could be traced as far as the eye could reach. Sometimes, again, they came to sheets of clear, transparent water, close to others which were perfectly opaque.
"Well, Mr. Clawbonny," said Simpson, "what do you say to this? Isn't it very peculiar?"
"I adopt the theory of Scoresby, the whaler," replied the Doctor. "He thought that the blue waters had been deprived of the myriads of animalculæ and medusæ—a class of zoophytes with which the green waters are loaded. He had made many experiments on the subject, and I quite believe he is right."
"Ay, sir; but there is more than that to be learnt from the color of the water."
"Is there, really?"
"Yes, Mr. Clawbonny, you may take a harpooner's word for it; if the Forward were only a whaler, we should have good sport."
"And yet," said the Doctor, "I don't see the smallest whale anywhere."
"All right! Take my word for it, I say, we'll see some before long. It is a lucky chance for a whaler to come across those green stripes in this latitude."
"And why so?" asked the Doctor, always eager to gain information from those who had a practical knowledge of the subject in hand.
"Because it is in those green waters that most of the whales are caught," replied Simpson.
"How is that?"
"Because the whales find most there to eat."
"Is that a positive fact?"
"Oh, I have tested it a hundred times in Baffin's Bay, and I don't see why it should not hold equally good in Melville Sound."
"I daresay you are right, Simpson."
"Stop a bit!" said the harpooner, leaning over the side of the vessel. "Do you see that, Mr. Clawbonny?"
"It looks like the wake of a ship."
"Well, that is the fatty substance the whale leaves behind in its track. Trust me, the animal that left it can't be far off."
There was certainly a peculiar smell in the atmosphere, and the Doctor watched carefully to see if Simpson's predictions would be verified.
He had not to watch long, for the man at the masthead called out:
"A whale! To leeward of us!"
All eyes turned in the given direction; and, sure enough, about a mile from the ship, jets of water thrown up to a considerable height were plainly visible.
"There she is!" exclaimed Simpson. "That's her and no mistake, blowing away!"
"She has disappeared!" said the Doctor.
"She could soon be found, if we wanted," replied Simpson, in a tone of regret.
But, to his amazement—for no one would have dared to propose such a thing—Hatteras gave orders to equip the whaling-boat. He was not sorry to be able to afford his men a little diversion, and perhaps secure a few barrels of oil. His permission to capture the whale gave great satisfaction to all on board; and, forthwith, four sailors jumped into the boat. Johnson was to steer, and Simpson took his place in the front, harpoon in hand. The Doctor could not be kept from joining the party. The sea was pretty calm, and in ten minutes the boat was at the spot.
The whale had just plunged below again, but soon reappeared, discharging a volume of mucous matter and vapor combined, from the blow-holes in the head.
"There! there!" cried Simpson, pointing to a spot about eight hundred yards from the boat.
The enormous monster rose and sank in the waves incessantly, her huge black back looking like a rock in mid-ocean. Whales are slow swimmers, and this one seemed in no hurry, certainly.
The boat cautiously approached unperceived by the enemy, owing to the opaqueness of the green water. To see a frail bark attack these leviathans is always a thrilling spectacle, and this whale must have measured nearly 100 feet. Larger ones are frequently met with between the 72nd and 80th degrees, and ancient writers speak of some specimens more than 700 feet long; but such descriptions are evidently entirely fabulous.
As soon as the boat got close to the whale, Simpson stopped the rowers, and, brandishing his harpoon, hurled it so dexterously at the foe that the sharp barbs buried themselves deep in the thick layer of fat on her back. The wounded monster dived below, and immediately the four oars were set up on end, and the line let out which was attached to the harpoon. It was lying in a coil at the front of the boat, and the rapidity with which it unwound itself was prodigious.
For more than half an hour the boat was dragged along after the whale in the direction of the moving icebergs, and always farther away from the brig. The motion was so rapid that it was necessary to wet the rope to prevent its taking fire from the excessive friction. When the whale at last slackened speed, the line was carefully drawn up by degrees, and coiled up again. Presently the animal rose to the surface once more, lashing the sea with her ponderous tail, and making a perfect waterspout, which fell on the boat like a violent shower of rain.
The men began to row vigorously forward, and Simpson seized a lance, and stood ready for combat. But, next moment, their coveted prey darted in between two gigantic ice-mountains, where it would have been dangerous to follow.
"Confound it!" exclaimed Johnson.
"Go on! Go on!" shouted Simpson, wild with excitement. "We are sure of her now."
"But we cannot go after her between those icebergs!" said Johnson.
"Yes, yes, we can," cried Simpson.
While they were still discussing whether to venture or not, the question was settled for them, for the passage began rapidly to close; and Johnson had only barely time to cut the rope with a hatchet when the rocky walls met, crushing the unfortunate animal between them with irresistible force.
"Lost!" exclaimed Simpson.
"Saved!" was Johnson's reply; while the Doctor, who had never shown the white feather throughout, coolly said, "My word! but that was a sight worth seeing."
The crushing power of these mountains is prodigious. The whale had met with no unusual death; for Scoresby mentions the fact that, in one summer, thirty whales perished in Baffin's Bay in a similar manner. He also saw a ship with three masts smashed flat, and two other ships were pierced through, as if by a lance, by fallen icebergs more than a hundred feet long, with sharp spiked ends, which met together across the decks.
A few minutes later, the boat regained the brig, and was drawn up to its accustomed place on deck.
"It is a lesson," said Shandon, aloud, "for rash people who will venture into narrow channels."