CHAPTER XXI.THE DEATH OF BELLOT.
The temperature remained at 57 degrees during July 3d and 4th; thiswas the highest temperature observed. But on Thursday, the 5th, thewind shifted to the southeast, with violent snow-squalls. Thethermometer fell twenty-three degrees in the preceding night.Hatteras, indifferent to the hostility of the crew, gave the order toset sail. For thirteen days, ever since passing Cape Dundas, the_Forward_ had not gone a single degree farther north; hence the partyrepresented by Clifton was dissatisfied; their wishes, it is true,coincided with those of the captain, namely, that they should maketheir way through Wellington Channel, and they were all glad to be offonce more.
It was with difficulty that sail was set; but having in the course ofthe night run up the mainsail and topsails, Hatteras plunged boldlyinto the ice, which the current was driving towards the south. Thecrew became very tired of this tortuous navigation, which kept themvery busy with the sails.
Wellington Channel is not very broad; it lies between North Devon onthe east and Cornwallis Island on the west; for a long time thisisland was considered a peninsula. It was Sir John Franklin whocircumnavigated it, in 1846, from the western side, going about itsnorthern coast.
"The _Forward_ in Wellington Channel."]
The exploration of Wellington Channel was made in 1851, by CaptainPenny, in the whale-ships _Lady Franklin_ and _Sophia_; one of hislieutenants, Stewart, who reached Cape Beechey, latitude 76 degrees 20minutes, discovered the open sea. The open sea! It was for thatHatteras longed.
"What Stewart found, I shall find," he said to the doctor; "and Ishall be able to get to the Pole under sail."
"But," answered the doctor, "don't you fear lest the crew--"
"The crew!" said Hatteras, coldly.
Then in a lower tone he murmured,--
"Poor men!" much to the doctor's surprise.
It was the first sentiment of this sort which he had ever noticed inthe captain.
"No," he went on warmly, "they must follow me, and they shall."
Still, if the _Forward_ need not fear collision with the ice-streams,she made but little way northward, being much delayed by contrarywinds. With some difficulty they got by Capes Spencer and Innis, andTuesday, the 10th, latitude 75 degrees was at last reached, much toClifton's joy.
The _Forward_ was now at the very spot where the American ships, the_Rescue_ and the _Advance_, commanded by Captain Haven, ran suchterrible dangers. Dr. Kane accompanied this expedition; towards theend of September, 1850, these ships were caught in the ice, andcarried with irresistible force into Lancaster Sound.
Shandon told James Wall about it in the presence of some of the men.
"The _Advance_ and the _Rescue_," he said, "were so tossed about byice, that they could keep no fires on board; and yet the thermometerstood at 18 degrees below zero. During the whole winter the crews werekept imprisoned, ready to abandon their ships, and for three weeksthey did not take off their clothes! It was a terrible situation;after drifting a thousand miles, they were driven to the middle ofBaffin's Bay!"
One may easily judge of the effect of such a narration on a crewalready discontented.
While this conversation was going on, Johnson was talking with thedoctor about an event which had taken place here; the doctor, at hisrequest, told him the exact moment when the brig reached latitude 75degrees 30 minutes.
"There it is! there it is!" said Johnson, "there is that unluckyland!"
And so speaking, tears came into the boatswain's eyes.
"You mean Lieutenant Bellot's death," said the doctor.
"Yes, sir, of that brave, good man!"
"And it was here, you say, that it took place?"
"Just here, on this part of the coast of North Devon. It was verygreat ill-luck, and this would not have happened if Captain Pullen hadcome on board sooner."
"What do you mean, Johnson?"
"Listen, Doctor, and you will see by how slight a thread life is held.You know that Lieutenant Bellot had already made an expedition insearch of Franklin, in 1850?"
"Yes; in the _Prince Albert_."
"Well, in 1853, having returned to France, he got permission to sailin the _Phoenix_, in which I was a sailor, under Captain Inglefield.We came with the _Breadalbane_ to carry supplies to Beechey Island."
"Those which we did not find!"
"Exactly, Doctor. We arrived at Beechey Island at the beginning ofAugust; the 10th of that month, Captain Inglefield left the _Phoenix_to rejoin Captain Pullen, who had been away for a month from his ship,the _North Star_. He intended on his return to send the Admiraltydespatches to Sir Edward Belcher, who was wintering in WellingtonChannel. Now, shortly after our captain's departure, Captain Pullenreached his ship. If he had only come back before Captain Inglefieldhad left! Lieutenant Bellot, fearing that our captain's absence mightbe a long one, and knowing that the Admiralty despatches wereimportant, offered to carry them himself. He left the two ships underCaptain Pullen's charge, and left August 12, with a sledge and anindia-rubber canoe. He took with him Harvey, quartermaster of the_North Star_, and three sailors, Madden, David Hook, and me. Wethought that Sir Edward Belcher would be somewhere near Cape Beecher,at the northern part of the channel; hence we made for that part inour sledge, keeping on the east bank. The first day we encamped threemiles from Cape Innis; the next day we stopped on the ice nearly threemiles from Cape Bowden. During the night, which was as bright as day,land being only three miles distant, Lieutenant Bellot determined togo and camp there; he tried to reach it in the canoe; a violentsoutheast breeze drove him back twice; Harvey and Madden tried intheir turn, and with success; they carried a rope, and with it theyestablished communication with the shore; three objects were carriedacross by it; but at the fourth attempt, we felt the ice moving awayfrom us; Mr. Bellot shouted to his companions to loosen the rope, andwe (the lieutenant, David Hook, and I) were carried to a greatdistance from the shore. Then a strong southeaster was blowing, andsnow was falling. But we were not in any great danger, and he mighthave been saved, since the rest of us were saved."
Johnson stopped for a moment, and gazed at the ill-fated shore, thenhe went on:--
"After losing sight of our companions, we tried at first to shelterourselves under the cover of our sledge, but in vain; then with ourknives we began to cut a house in the ice. Mr. Bellot sat down forhalf an hour, and talked with us about the danger of our situation; Itold him I was not afraid. 'With God's protection,' he said, 'not ahair of our heads shall be hurt.' I then asked him what time it was.He answered, 'About quarter past six.' It was quarter past six in themorning of Thursday, August 18th. Then Mr. Bellot bound on his books,and said he wanted to go and see how the ice was moving; he was goneonly four minutes, when I went to seek him behind the floe whichsheltered us; but I did not find him, and, returning to our retreat, Isaw his stick on the opposite side of a crevasse about three fathomswide, where the ice was all broken. I shouted, but there was noanswer. At that time the wind was blowing very hard. I searched allaround, but I could find no trace of the poor lieutenant."
"And what do you suppose became of him?" asked the doctor, who wasmuch moved by this account.
"I suppose that when he left the shelter, the wind drove him into thecrevasse, and that, being thickly clad, he could not swim to thesurface. O Dr. Clawbonny, I never felt worse in my life! I could notbelieve it! That brave officer fell a victim to his sense of duty! Foryou know that it was in order to obey Captain Pullen's instructionsthat he was trying to reach the land before the ice began to break! Hewas a brave man, liked by every one, faithful, courageous! All Englandmourned him, and even the Esquimaux, when they heard of his death fromCaptain Inglefield, when he returned from Pound Bay, did nothing butweep and repeat, 'Poor Bellot! Poor Bellot!'"
"But you and your companions, Johnson," asked the doctor, much movedby this touching account,--"how did you manage to get to shore?"
"O, it was very simple! We remained twenty-four hours on the icewithout food or fire, but fin
ally we reached a firmly fastenedice-field; we sprang upon it, and with an oar we got near a floecapable of supporting us, and being controlled like a boat. In thatway we reached the shore, but alone, without our brave officer."
At the end of this account the _Forward_ had passed by this fatalshore, and Johnson soon lost sight of the scene of this terriblecatastrophe. The next day they left Griffin's Bay on the starboard,and two days later, Capes Grinnell and Helpman; finally, July 14th,they doubled Osborne Point, and the 15th the brig anchored in BaringBay at the end of the channel. The navigation had not been verydifficult; Hatteras found a sea nearly as free as that by whichBelcher profited to go and winter with the _Pioneer_ and _Assistance_in latitude 77 degrees. That was his first winter, 1852-53, for thenext he spent in Baring Bay, where the _Forward_ now lay at anchor.
It was in consequence of the most terrible dangers and trials that hewas obliged to abandon the _Assistance_ in the midst of the eternalice.
Shandon gave a full account of this catastrophe to the demoralizedsailors. Was Hatteras aware of the treachery of his first officer? Itis impossible to say, but, at any rate, he said nothing about it.
At the end of Baring Bay is a narrow canal uniting Wellington Channelwith Queen's Strait. There the ice had accumulated very closely.Hatteras made vain efforts to get through the passages to the north ofHamilton Island; the wind was unfavorable; hence it was necessary togo between Hamilton and Cornwallis Islands; five precious days werelost in vain attempts. The air grew colder, and, July 19th, fell aslow as 26 degrees; the next day was warmer, but this harbinger of thearctic winter warned Hatteras not to linger longer. The wind seemed toblow steadily from the west and delayed his progress. And yet he wasin haste to reach the point whence Stewart saw an open sea. The 19thhe resolved to enter the channel at any price; the wind blew deadagainst the brig, which, with her screw, could have made headwayagainst the violent snow-squalls, but Hatteras had before all to beeconomical with the fuel; on the other hand, the channel was too broadto permit of the brig being towed. Hatteras, without taking intoaccount the fatigue of his crew, made use of a device which whalersoften employ under similar circumstances. He lowered the small boatsto the surface of the water, not letting them free from their tackle;then they were made fast, fore and aft; oars were put out, tostarboard on one side and to port on the other; the men sat on thethwarts and rowed vigorously, so as to propel the brig against thewind.
Hatteras made use of a device which whalers employ.]
The _Forward_ made slight headway; this method of working was veryfatiguing; the men began to murmur. For four days they advanced inthat way, until July 23d, when they reached Baring Island, in Queen'sChannel.
The wind was still unfavorable. The crew could go no farther. Thedoctor found the strength of the crew much pulled down, and he thoughthe detected the first symptoms of scurvy; he used every precautionagainst this terrible disease, having abundant supplies of lime-juiceand chalk-pastilles.
Hatteras soon saw there was nothing more to be got from his crew;kindness and persuasion were fruitless; he resolved to employseverity, and, if need be, to be pitiless; he distrusted especiallyRichard Shandon, and even James Wall, who, however, never dared tospeak too loud. Hatteras had on his side the doctor, Johnson, Bell,and Simpson; these were all devoted to him body and soul. Among theuncertain were Foker, Bolton, Wolston, the gunner, Brunton, the firstengineer, who might at any moment declare against him. As to theothers, Pen, Gripper, Clifton, and Warren, they openly meditatedmutiny; they wanted to bring their companions over and compel the_Forward_ to return to England.
Hatteras soon saw that he could get no more work from his dispiritedcrew, who now were worn out with fatigue from their hard work. Fortwenty-four hours they remained in sight of Baring Island withoutgetting a foot forward. Still the weather grew colder, and in thesehigh latitudes even July felt the influence of the approaching winter.The 24th, the thermometer fell to 22 degrees. The young ice formedduring the night to a depth of about half an inch; if snow should fallon it, it would soon be strong enough to bear the weight of a man. Thesea soon acquired the turbid tint which indicates the formation of thefirst crystals.
Hatteras read aright these alarming signs; if the passes should close,he would be obliged to winter here, far from the aim of his voyage,and without even having seen that open sea which he must have got verynear, according to the accounts of his predecessors. Hence he resolvedto get on at any price a few degrees farther north; seeing that hecould neither try rowing with his crew exhausted, nor going under sailwith the wind always unfavorable, he ordered the fires to be lighted.