A few moments later the whaleboat returned to the brig, and was hauled up to its usual place on deck.
“That’s a lesson,” said Shandon, aloud, “for those who are foolhardy enough to venture into the passes!”
XX
Beechey Island
June 25th the Forward sighted Cape Dundas, at the northwest extremity of Prince of Wales Land. There they found more serious difficulties amid thicker ice. The channel here grows narrower, and the line of Crozier, Young, Day, and Lowther Islands ranged in a line, like forts in a harbor, drive the ice-streams nearer together. What would otherwise have taken the brig a day now detained her from June 25th to the end of the month; she was continually obliged to stop, to retreat, and to wait for a favorable chance to reach Beechey Island. Meanwhile a great deal of coal was consumed; though during the frequent halts only small fires were kept burning, sufficient to keep steam up day and night.
Hatteras knew as well as Shandon the reduced state of their supply; but feeling sure that he would find fuel at Beechey Island, he did not wish to lose a minute for the sake of economy; he had been very much delayed by running south; and, although he had taken the precaution of leaving England in April, he now found himself no farther advanced than previous expeditions had been at that time of year.
The 30th they passed Cape Walker at the northeast extremity of Prince of Wales Land; this is the farthest point seen by Kennedy and Bellot, May 3rd, 1852, after an expedition across North Somerset. In 1851, Captain Ommanney of the Austin expedition had been fortunate enough to get fresh supplies there for his detachment.
This cape, which is very lofty, is remarkable for its reddish-brown color; in clear weather one can see as far as the entrance of Wellington Channel. Towards evening they saw Cape Bellot, separated from Cape Walker by MacLeon’s Bay. Cape Bellot was so named in presence of that young French officer to whom the English expedition gave three cheers. At this place the coast consists of a yellowish limestone, very rough in appearance; it is protected by huge masses of ice which the north-wind collects there in the most imposing way. It was soon no longer to be seen from the Forward’s deck, as she was making her way amid the loose ice towards Beechey Island through Barrow Strait.
Hatteras, having resolved to go on in a straight line, in order not to be carried past the island, hardly left the deck during the subsequent days; he would go aloft to the cross-trees in order to pick out the most favorable path for the brig. All that skill, coolness, boldness, and even maritime genius could do, was done by him while sailing through the strait. It is true that fortune did not favor him, for at that season he ought to have found the sea nearly open. But by dint of sparing neither steam, his men, nor himself, he succeeded in his aim.
July 3rd, at eleven o’clock in the morning, the ice-master saw land to the north; Hatteras soon made it out as Beechey Island, the general rendezvous for arctic explorers. Almost all the ships which sail in these latitudes touch here. Here Franklin passed his first winter before advancing into Wellington Channel. Here Creswell, MacClure’s lieutenant, after a march of four hundred and seventy miles on the ice, rejoined the Phoenix and returned to England. The last ship which anchored at Beechey Island before the Forward was the Fox; MacClintock took in supplies there, August 11, 1855, and repaired the dwellings and storehouses; that was but a short time previous. Hatteras knew all these details.
The boatswain’s heart beat strongly at the sight of this island; when he had last seen it he had been quartermaster on the Phoenix; Hatteras asked him about the coast, the place for anchoring, the possible change of the bottom. The weather was perfect; the thermometer marked 57°.
“Well, Johnson,” said the captain, “do you recognize this place?”
“Yes, Captain, it’s Beechey Island! Only we ought to bear a little farther north; the coast is more easily approached there.”
“But the buildings, the stores?” said Hatteras.
“Oh, you can’t see them till you get ashore; they are hidden behind those hillocks you see there!”
“And did you carry large supplies there?”
“Yes, they were large. The Admiralty sent us here in 1853, under the command of Captain Inglefield, with the steamer Phoenix and a transport, the Breadalbane, loaded with supplies; we carried enough to revictual a whole expedition.”
“But did not the commander of the Fox take a great deal away in 1855?” said Hatteras.
“Oh, don’t be anxious, Captain!” answered Johnson; “there will be enough left for you; the cold keeps everything wonderfully, and we shall find everything as fresh and in as good condition as on the first day.”
“I’m not so anxious about the provisions,” answered Hatteras; “I have enough for several years; what I stand in need of is coal.”
“Well, Captain, we left more than a thousand tons there; so you can feel easy about that.”
“Let us stand nearer,” resumed Hatteras, who, glass in hand, kept examining the shore.
“You see that point,” said Johnson; “when we’ve doubled it, we shall be near our anchorage. Yes, it’s from there we started for England with Lieutenant Creswell and twelve sick men of the Investigator. But if we were fortunate enough to be of service to Captain MacClure’s lieutenant, Bellot, the officer who accompanied us on the Phoenix, never saw his home again! Ah, that’s a sad memory! But, Captain, I think it’s here we ought to anchor.”
“Very well,” answered Hatteras.
And he gave the proper orders. The Forward lay in a little harbor sheltered from the north, east, and south winds, about a cable-length from the shore.
“Mr. Wall,” said Hatteras, “you will lower the launch and send six men to bring
