Besides, they were able to shoot occasionally; they killed ducks, geese, and other game, which gave them fresh and wholesome food. As for their drink, they had a full supply from the floating ice, which they met on the way, for they took care not to go far from the coast, the launch being too small for the open sea.
At this period of the year the thermometer was already, for the greater part of time, beneath the freezing-point; after a certain amount of rainy weather snow began to fall, with other signs of the end of summer; the sun sank nearer the horizon, and more and more of its disk sank beneath it every day. July 30th they saw it disappear for the first time, that is to say, they had a few minutes of night.
Still, the launch sailed well, sometimes making from sixty to seventy-five miles a day; they did not stop a moment; they knew what fatigues to endure, what obstacles to surmount; the way by land was before them, if they had to take it, and these confined seas must soon be closed; indeed, the young ice was already forming here and there. Winter suddenly succeeds summer in these latitudes; there are no intermediate seasons; no spring, no autumn. So they had to hurry. July 31st, the sky being clear at sunset, the first stars were seen in the constellations overhead. From this day on there was perpetual mist, which interfered very much with their sailing. The doctor, when he saw all the signs of winter’s approach, became very uneasy; he knew the difficulties Sir John Ross had found in getting to Baffin’s Bay, after leaving his ship; and indeed, having once tried to pass the ice, he was obliged to return to his ship, and go into winter-quarters for the fourth year; but he had at least a shelter against the weather, food, and fuel. If such a misfortune were to befall the survivors of the Forward, if they had to stop or put back, they were lost; the doctor did not express his uneasiness to his companions; but he urged them to get as far eastward as possible.
Finally, August 15th, after thirty days of rather good sailing, after struggling for forty-eight hours against the ice, which was accumulating, after having imperilled their little launch a hundred times, they saw themselves absolutely stopped, unable to go farther; the sea was all frozen, and the thermometer marked on an average +15°. Moreover, in all the north and east it was easy to detect the nearness of land, by the presence of pebbles; frozen fresh water was found more frequently. Altamont made an observation with great exactness, and found they were in latitude 77° 15′, and longitude 85° 2′.
“So, then,” said the doctor, “this is our exact position; we have reached North Lincoln, exactly at Cape Eden; we are entering Jones’s Sound; if we had been a little luckier, we should have found the sea open to Baffin’s Bay. But we need not complain. If my poor Hatteras had at first found so open a sea, he would have soon reached the Pole, his companions would not have deserted him, and he would not have lost his reason under his terrible sufferings!”
“Then,” said Altamont, “we have only one course to follow; to abandon the launch, and get to the east coast of Lincoln by sledge.”
“Abandon the launch and take the sledge? Well,” answered the doctor; “but instead of crossing Lincoln, I propose going through Jones’s Sound on the ice, and reaching North Devon.”
“And why?” asked Altamont.
“Because we should get nearer to Lancaster Sound, and have more chance of meeting whalers.”
“You are right, Doctor, but I am afraid the ice is not yet hard enough.”
“We can try,” said Clawbonny.
The launch was unloaded; Bell and Johnson put the sledge together; all its parts were in good condition. The next day the dogs were harnessed in, and they went along the coast to reach the ice-field.
Then they began again the journey which has been so often described; it was tiresome and slow; Altamont was right in doubting the strength of the ice; they could not go through Jones’s Sound, and they had to follow the coast of Lincoln.
August 21st they turned to one side and reached the entrance of Glacier Sound; then they ventured upon the ice-field, and the next day they reached Cobourg Island, which they crossed in less than two days amid snow-squalls. They could advance more easily on the ice-fields, and at last, August 24th, they set foot on North Devon.
“Now,” said the doctor, “we have only to cross this, and reach Cape Warender, at the entrance of Lancaster Sound.”
But the weather became very cold and unpleasant; the snow-squalls became as violent as in winter; they all found themselves nearly exhausted. Their provisions were giving out, and each man had but a third of a ration, in order to allow to the dogs enough food in proportion to their work.
The nature of the ground added much to the fatigue of the journey; North Devon was far from level; they had to cross the Trauter Mountains by almost impassable ravines, struggling against all the fury of the elements. The sledge, men, and dogs had to rest, and more than once despair seized the little band, hardened as it was to the fatigues of a polar journey. But, without their noticing it, these poor men were nearly worn out, physically and morally; they could not support such incessant fatigue for eighteen months with impunity, nor such a succession of hopes and despairs. Besides, it should be borne in mind that they went forward with enthusiasm and conviction, which they lacked when returning. So they with difficulty dragged on; they walked almost from habit, with the animal energy left almost
