University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

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 ° 23′ S., longitude 41 ° 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. Towards
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 ° 10′ S., longitude
42 ° 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 ° 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 ° 15′ E., longitude 42 ° 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 flow, 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 ° 30′, longitude
40 ° 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 ° 21′, longitude 42 ° 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 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 this 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 °
50′ S. latitude, 42 ° 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 steril 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.