CHAPTER 17

We kept our course southwardly for four days after giving up the

search for Glass’s islands, without meeting with any ice at all.

On the twenty-sixth, at noon, we were in latitude 63 degrees 23’

S., longitude 41 degrees 25’ W. We now saw several large ice

islands, and a floe of field ice, not, however, of any great

extent. The winds generally blew from the southeast, or the

northeast, but were very light. Whenever we had a westerly wind,

which was seldom, it was invariably attended with a rain squall.

Every day we had more or less snow. The thermometer, on the

twenty-seventh stood at thirty-five.

January 1, 1828.—This day we found ourselves completely hemmed in

by the ice, and our prospects looked cheerless indeed. A strong

gale blew, during the whole forenoon, from the northeast, and

drove large cakes of the drift against the rudder and counter

with such violence that we all trembled for the consequences.

Toward evening, the gale still blowing with fury, a large field

in front separated, and we were enabled, by carrying a press of

sail to force a passage through the smaller flakes into some open

water beyond. As we approached this space we took in sail by

degrees, and having at length got clear, lay-to under a single

reefed foresail.

January 2.—We had now tolerably pleasant weather. At noon we

found ourselves in latitude 69 degrees 10’ S, longitude 42

degrees 20’ W, having crossed the Antarctic circle. Very little

ice was to be seen to the southward, although large fields of it

lay behind us. This day we rigged some sounding gear, using a

large iron pot capable of holding twenty gallons, and a line of

two hundred fathoms. We found the current setting to the north,

about a quarter of a mile per hour. The temperature of the air

was now about thirty-three. Here we found the variation to be 14

degrees 28’ easterly, per azimuth.

January 5.—We had still held on to the southward without any very

great impediments. On this morning, however, being in latitude 73

degrees 15’ E., longitude 42 degrees 10’ W, we were again brought

to a stand by an immense expanse of firm ice. We saw,

nevertheless, much open water to the southward, and felt no doubt

of being able to reach it eventually. Standing to the eastward

along the edge of the floe, we at length came to a passage of

about a mile in width, through which we warped our way by

sundown. The sea in which we now were was thickly covered with

ice islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as

before. The cold did not seem to increase, although we had snow

very frequently, and now and then hail squalls of great violence.

Immense flocks of the albatross flew over the schooner this day,

going from southeast to northwest.

January 7.—The sea still remained pretty well open, so that we

had no difficulty in holding on our course. To the westward we

saw some icebergs of incredible size, and in the afternoon passed

very near one whose summit could not have been less than four

hundred fathoms from the surface of the ocean. Its girth was

probably, at the base, three-quarters of a league, and several

streams of water were running from crevices in its sides. We

remained in sight of this island two days, and then only lost it

in a fog.

January 10.—Early this morning we had the misfortune to lose a

man overboard. He was an American named Peter Vredenburgh, a

native of New York, and was one of the most valuable hands on

board the schooner. In going over the bows his foot slipped, and

he fell between two cakes of ice, never rising again. At noon of

this day we were in latitude 78 degrees 30’, longitude 40 degrees

15’ W. The cold was now excessive, and we had hail squalls

continually from the northward and eastward. In this direction

also we saw several more immense icebergs, and the whole horizon

to the eastward appeared to be blocked up with field ice, rising

in tiers, one mass above the other. Some driftwood floated by

during the evening, and a great quantity of birds flew over,

among which were nellies, peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird

of a brilliant blue plumage. The variation here, per azimuth, was

less than it had been previously to our passing the Antarctic

circle.

January 12.—Our passage to the south again looked doubtful, as

nothing was to be seen in the direction of the pole but one

apparently limitless floe, backed by absolute mountains of ragged

ice, one precipice of which arose frowningly above the other. We

stood to the westward until the fourteenth, in the hope of

finding an entrance.

January 14.—This morning we reached the western extremity of the

field which had impeded us, and, weathering it, came to an open

sea, without a particle of ice. Upon sounding with two hundred

fathoms, we here found a current setting southwardly at the rate

of half a mile per hour. The temperature of the air was

forty-seven, that of the water thirty-four. We now sailed to the

southward without meeting any interruption of moment until the

sixteenth, when, at noon, we were in latitude 81 degrees 21’,

longitude 42 degrees W. We here again sounded, and found a

current setting still southwardly, and at the rate of three

quarters of a mile per hour. The variation per azimuth had

diminished, and the temperature of the air was mild and pleasant,

the thermometer being as high as fifty-one. At this period not a

particle of ice was to be discovered. All hands on board now felt

certain of attaining the pole.

January 17.—This day was full of incident. Innumerable flights of

birds flew over us from the southward, and several were shot from

the deck, one of them, a species of pelican, proved to be

excellent eating. About midday a small floe of ice was seen from

the masthead off the larboard bow, and upon it there appeared to

be some large animal. As the weather was good and nearly calm,

Captain Guy ordered out two of the boats to see what it was. Dirk

Peters and myself accompanied the mate in the larger boat. Upon

coming up with the floe, we perceived that it was in the

possession of a gigantic creature of the race of the Arctic bear,

but far exceeding in size the largest of these animals. Being

well armed, we made no scruple of attacking it at once. Several

shots were fired in quick succession, the most of which took

effect, apparently, in the head and body. Nothing discouraged,

however, the monster threw himself from the ice, and swam with

open jaws, to the boat in which were Peters and myself. Owing to

the confusion which ensued among us at this unexpected turn of

the adventure, no person was ready immediately with a second

shot, and the bear had actually succeeded in getting half his

vast bulk across our gunwale, and seizing one of the men by the

small of his back, before any efficient means were taken to repel

him. In this extremity nothing but the promptness and agility of

Peters saved us from destruction. Leaping upon the back of the

huge beast, he plunged the blade of a knife behind the neck,

reaching the spinal marrow at a blow. The brute tumbled into the

sea lifeless, and without a struggle, rolling over Peters as he

fell. The latter soon recovered himself, and a rope being thrown

him, he secured the carcass before entering the boat. We then

returned in triumph to the schooner, towing our trophy behind us.

This bear, upon admeasurement, proved to be full fifteen feet in

his greatest length. His wool was perfectly white, and very

coarse, curling tightly. The eyes were of a blood red, and larger

than those of the Arctic bear, the snout also more rounded,

rather resembling the snout of the bulldog. The meat was tender,

but excessively rank and fishy, although the men devoured it with

avidity, and declared it excellent eating.

Scarcely had we got our prize alongside, when the man at the

masthead gave the joyful shout of “land on the starboard bow!”

All hands were now upon the alert, and, a breeze springing up

very opportunely from the northward and eastward, we were soon

close in with the coast. It proved to be a low rocky islet, of

about a league in circumference, and altogether destitute of

vegetation, if we except a species of prickly pear. In

approaching it from the northward, a singular ledge of rock is

seen projecting into the sea, and bearing a strong resemblance to

corded bales of cotton. Around this ledge to the westward is a

small bay, at the bottom of which our boats effected a convenient

landing.

It did not take us long to explore every portion of the island,

but, with one exception, we found nothing worthy of our

observation. In the southern extremity, we picked up near the

shore, half buried in a pile of loose stones, a piece of wood,

which seemed to have formed the prow of a canoe. There had been

evidently some attempt at carving upon it, and Captain Guy

fancied that he made out the figure of a tortoise, but the

resemblance did not strike me very forcibly. Besides this prow,

if such it were, we found no other token that any living creature

had ever been here before. Around the coast we discovered

occasional small floes of ice—but these were very few. The exact

situation of the islet (to which Captain Guy gave the name of

Bennet’s Islet, in honour of his partner in the ownership of the

schooner) is 82 degrees 50’ S. latitude, 42 degrees 20’ W.

longitude.

We had now advanced to the southward more than eight degrees

farther than any previous navigators, and the sea still lay

perfectly open before us. We found, too, that the variation

uniformly decreased as we proceeded, and, what was still more

surprising, that the temperature of the air, and latterly of the

water, became milder. The weather might even be called pleasant,

and we had a steady but very gentle breeze always from some

northern point of the compass. The sky was usually clear, with

now and then a slight appearance of thin vapour in the southern

horizon—this, however, was invariably of brief duration. Two

difficulties alone presented themselves to our view; we were

getting short of fuel, and symptoms of scurvy had occurred among

several of the crew. These considerations began to impress upon

Captain Guy the necessity of returning, and he spoke of it

frequently. For my own part, confident as I was of soon arriving

at land of some description upon the course we were pursuing, and

having every reason to believe, from present appearances, that we

should not find it the sterile soil met with in the higher Arctic

latitudes, I warmly pressed upon him the expediency of

persevering, at least for a few days longer, in the direction we

were now holding. So tempting an opportunity of solving the great

problem in regard to an Antarctic continent had never yet been

afforded to man, and I confess that I felt myself bursting with

indignation at the timid and ill-timed suggestions of our

commander. I believe, indeed, that what I could not refrain from

saying to him on this head had the effect of inducing him to push

on. While, therefore, I cannot but lament the most unfortunate

and bloody events which immediately arose from my advice, I must

still be allowed to feel some degree of gratification at having

been instrumental, however remotely, in opening to the eye of

science one of the most intensely exciting secrets which has ever

engrossed its attention.