Chapter 15 of the English at the North Pole. Chapter 15 The Forward Driven Back South. The weather cleared up towards evening, and land was clearly distinguished between Cape Sepping and Cape Clarence, which runs east, then south, and is joined to the coast on the west by a rather low neck of land. The sea at the entrance to Regent Street was free from ice, with the exception of an impenetrable ice bank, a little further than Port Leopold, which threatened to stop the forward in her north-westerly course. Hathros was greatly vexed, but he did not show it. He was obliged to have recourse to Petards, in order to force an entrance to Port Leopold. He reached it on Sunday, the 27th of May. The brig was solidly anchored to the enormous icebergs, which were as upright, hard and solid as rocks. The captain, followed by the doctor Johnson, and his dog Dick, immediately leaped upon the ice, and soon reached land. Dick leaped with joy, for since he had recognized the captain, he had become more sociable, keeping his grudge against certain men of the crew, for whom his master had no more friendship than he. The port was not then locked up with ice, that the east winds generally heaped up there. The earth, intersected with peaks, offered at their summits graceful undulations of snow. The house and lantern erected by James Ross were still in a tolerable state of preservation, but the provisions seemed to have been ransacked by foxes and bears, the recent traces of which were easily distinguished. The men, too, had had something to do with the devastation. For a few remains of Eskimo Hatz remained upon the shores of the bay. The six graves, enclosing the remains of the six sailors of the enterprise and the investigator, were recognizable by a slight swelling of the ground. They had been respected both by men and animals. In placing his foot for the first time on burial land, the doctor experienced much emotion. It is impossible to imagine the feelings with which the heart is assailed at the sight of the remains of houses, tents, huts, and magazines, that nature so marvelously preserves in those cold countries. There is that residence, he said to his companions, which James Ross himself called the camp of refugee. If Franklin's expedition had reached this spot, it would have been saved. There is the engine which was abandoned here, and the stow at which the crew of the Prince Albert warmed themselves in 1851. Things have remained just as they were, and anyone would think that Captain Kennedy had only left yesterday. There is the long boat which sheltered him and his for a few days. For this Kennedy, separated from his ship, was in reality saved by Lieutenant Bellot, who braved the October temperature in order to go to his assistants. I knew that brave and worthy officer said Johnson. Whilst the doctor was examining with all an antiquarian's enthusiasm the vestiges of previous winterings, Hatteras was occupied in piling together the warrior's provisions and articles of fuel, which were only to be found in very small quantities. The following day was employed in transporting them on board. The doctor, without going too far from the ship, surveyed the country, and took sketches of the most remarkable points of view. The temperature rose by degrees, and the heaped up snow began to melt. The doctor made an almost complete collection of northern birds, such as gulls, divers, iderdown ducks, which are very much like common ducks, with white breasts and backs, blue bellies, the top of the head blue, and the remainder of the plumage white shaded with green. Several of them had already their breasts stripped of that beautiful down with which the male and female lines their nests. The doctor also perceived large seals taking breath on the surface of the ice, but could not shoot one. In his excursions he discovered the high watermark, a stone upon which the following signs are engraved, A.E. 1849, and which indicate the passage of the enterprise and investigator. He pushed forward as far as Cape Clarence to the spot, where John and James Ross, in 1833, waited with so much impatience for the breaking up of the ice. The land was strewn with skulls and bones of animals, and traces of Eskimo habitations could be still distinguished. The doctor wanted to raise up a cairn on Port Leopold, and deposit in it a note indicating the passage of the forward and the aim of the expedition. But Hatteras would not hear of it. He did not want to leave traces behind, of which a competitor might take advantage. In spite of his good motives, the doctor was forced to yield to the captain's will. Shandon blamed the captain's obstinacy, which prevented any ships following the trace of the forward in case of accident. Hatteras would not give way. His lading was finished on Monday night, and he attempted once more to gain the north by breaking open the ice-bank. But after dangerous efforts he was forced to resign himself, and to go down Regent's Channel again. He would not stop at Port Leopold, which, open to day, might be closed again to Murrow, by an unexpected displacement of ice-fields, a very frequent phenomenon in these seas, and which navigators ought particularly to take into consideration. If Hatteras did not allow his uneasiness to be outwardly perceived, it did not prevent him feeling it inwardly. His desire was to push northward, whilst, on the contrary, he found himself constrained to put back southward. Where should he get to, in that case? Should he be obliged to put back to Victoria Harbour, in Boothia Gulf, where Sir John Ross wintered in 1833? Would he find below straight open at that epoch? And could he ascend Peelstraight by rounding north Somerset? Or again, should he, like his predecessors, find himself captured during several winters, and be compelled to exhaust his strengths and provisions? His fears were fermenting in his brain. He must decide one way or another. He heaved about and struck out south. The width of Prince Regent's Channel is about the same from Port Leopold to Adelaide Bay. The forward, more favoured than the ships which had preceded her, and of which the greater number had required more than a month to descend the Channel, even in a more favourable season, made her way rapidly amongst the icebergs. It is true that other ships, with the exception of the Fox, had no steam at their disposal, and had to endure the caprices of an uncertain and often foul wind. In general, the crew showed little wish to push on with the enterprising heteros. The men were only too glad to perceive that the vessel was taking a southerly direction. Heteros would have liked to go on, regardless of consequences. The forward rushed along under the pressure of her engines, the smoke from which twisted round the shining points of the icebergs. The weather was constantly changing, from dry cold to snowy fogs. The brig, which drew little water, sailed along the west coast. Heteros did not wish to miss the entrance to Bello Strait, as the only outlet to the Gulf of Boothia on the south was the Strait, only partially known to the fury and the heckler. If he missed the Bello Strait, he might be shut up without possibility of egress. In the evenings the forward was in sight of Elven Bay, known by its high perpendicular rocks. On the Tuesday morning Batty Bay was sighted, where the Prince Albert anchored for its long wintering on the 10th of September, 1851. The doctor swept the whole coast with his telescope. It thrust from this point that the expeditions radiated, that established the geographical configuration of North Somerset. The weather was clear, and the profound ravines by which the bay is surrounded could be clearly distinguished. The doctor and Johnson were perhaps the only beings on board who took any interest in these deserted countries. Heteros was always intent upon his maps and said little. His test eternity increased as the brig got more and more south. He often mounted the poop and there was folded arms and eyes lost in vacancy he stood for hours. His orders, when he gave any, were curt and rough. Shandon kept a cold silence and kept himself so much aloof by degrees that at last he had no relations with Heteros except those exacted by the service. James Wall remained devoted to Shandon and regulated his conduct accordingly. The remainder of the crew waited for something to turn up, ready to take any advantage in their own interest. There was no longer that unity of thought and communion of ideas on board, which are so necessary for the accomplishment of anything great, and this Heteros knew to his sorrow. During the day two whales were perceived rushing towards the south. A white bear was also seen and was shot at without any apparent success. The captain knew the value of an hour under the circumstances and would not allow the animal to be chased. On Wednesday morning the extremity of region's channel was passed. The angle on the west coast was followed by a deep curve in the land. By consulting his map the doctor recognized the point of Somerset House or Fury Point. The air, said he to his habitual companion, there is the very spot where the first English ship sent into these seas in 1815 was lost. During the third of Perry's voyages to the pole the fury was so damaged by the ice that it founds her second wintering that her crew were obliged to desert her and returned to England on board her companion ship the Heckler. That shows the advantage of having a second ship, answered Johnson. It is a precaution that polar navigators ought not to neglect, but Captain Heteros wasn't the sort of man to trouble himself with another ship. Do you think he is imprudent, Johnson? asked the doctor. I think nothing, Mr. Clobony. Do you see those stakes over there with some rotten tent rags still hanging to them? Yes, that's where Perry disembarked his provisions from his ship. And if I remember rightly, the roof of his tent was a top sail. Everything must be greatly changed since 1825. Well, not so much as anyone might think. John Ross owed the health and safety of his crew to that fragile habitation in 1829. When the Prince Albert sent an expedition there in 1851, it was still existing. Captain Kennedy had it repaired, nine years ago now. It would be interesting to visit it, but Heteros isn't in the humour to stop. I daresay he is right, Mr. Clobony. If time is money in England, here it is life, and a day's or even an hour's delay might make all the difference. During the day of Tuesday, the 1st of June, the forward cut across Creswell Bay, from fury point, the coast rose towards the north in perpendicular rocks three hundred feet high. It began to get lower towards the south. Some snow summits looked like neatly cut tables, whilst others were shaped like pyramids, and had other strange forms. The weather grew milder during that day, but was not so clear. Wind was lost to sight, and the thermometer went up to thirty-two degrees. Seafowl fluttered about, the flocks of wild ducks were seen flying north. The crew could divest themselves of some of their garments, and the influence of the arctic summer began to be felt. Towards evening the forward doubled Cape Gary at a quarter of a mile from the shore, where the soundings gave from ten to twelve pathems. From thence she kept near the coast as far as Brentford Bay. It was under this latitude that below Strait was to be met with, a strait the existence of which Sir John Ross did not even guess at during his expedition in 1828. His maps indicated an uninterrupted coastline, whose irregularities he noted with the utmost care. The entrance to the strait must therefore have been blocked up by ice at the time. It was really discovered by Kennedy in April, 1852, and he gave it the name of his lieutenant below, as a just tribute, he said, to the important services rendered to our expedition by the French officer. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of the English at the North Pole. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Part 1 of the Adventures of Captain Hatteras The English at the North Pole by Jules Verne Chapter 16 The Magnetic Pole Hatteras felt his anxiety increase as he neared the strait. The fate of his voyage depended upon it. Up till now he had done more than his predecessors, the most fortunate of whom McClintock had taken fifteen months to reach this part of the polar seas. But it was little or nothing if he did not succeed in clearing bellow a strait. He could not retrace his steps and would be blocked up till the following year. He trusted the care of examining the coast to no one but himself. He mounted the crow's nest and passed several hours there during the morning of Saturday. The crew perfectly understood the ship's position. And silence reigned on board, the engine slackened steam, and the forward kept as near land as possible. The coast bristled with icebergs, which the warmest summers do not melt. An experienced eye alone could distinguish an opening between them. Hatteras compared his maps with the land. As the sun showed himself for an instant towards noon, he caused shandon and wall to take a pretty exact observation which was shouted to him. All the crew suffered the tortures of anxiety for half the day, but towards two o'clock these words were shouted from the top of the mason mast. We are to the west, all steam on. The brig instantly obeyed. Her prow was directed towards the point indicated, the sea foamed under the screws, and the forward was all speed on, entered between two ice-streams. The road was found, Hatteras descended upon deck, and the ice-master took his place. Well, captain, said the doctor, we are in the famous strait at last. Yes, answered Hatteras, lowering his voice. But getting in isn't everything, we must get out too. And so saying he regained his cabin. He is right, said the doctor. We are here in a sort of mouse trap, with scarcely enough space for working the brig, and if we are forced to winter in the strait, well, we shan't be the first that have had to do it, and they got over it, and so shall we. The doctor was not mistaken. It was in that very place, in a little sheltered harbour, called Kennedy Harbour, by Macclintock himself, that the fox wintered in 1858. The high granite chain, and the steep cliffs of the two banks, were clearly discernable. Below strait is 17 miles long, and a mile wide, and about six or seven fathoms deep. It lies between mountains, whose height is estimated at 1600 feet. It separates north somerset from Boothia land. It is easy to understand, that there is not much elbow room for vessels in such a strait. The forward advanced slowly, but it did advance. Tempests are frequent in the strait, and the brig did not escape them. By Hatteras's order all sails were furled. But notwithstanding all precautions, the brig was much knocked about. The waves dashed over her, and her smoke fled towards the east with astonishing rapidity. Her course was not certain amongst the moving ice. The barometer fell. It was difficult to stop on deck, and most of the men stayed below to avoid useless suffering. Hatteras Johnson and Shandon remained on the poop in spite of the gales of snow and rain. As usual the doctor had asked himself, what would be the most disagreeable thing he could do, and answered himself by going on deck at once. It was impossible to hear and difficult to see one another, so that he kept his reflections to himself. Hatteras tried to see through the fog. He calculated that they would be at the mouth of the strait at six o'clock. But when the time came, all issues seemed closed up. He was obliged to wait and anchor the brig to an iceberg, but he stopped under pressure all night. The weather was frightful. The forward threatened to break her chains at every instant. It was feared that the iceberg to which they were anchored, torn away at its base under the wild and west wind, would float away with the brig. The officers were constantly on the lookout and under extreme apprehension. Along with the snow there fell a perfect hail of ice, torn off from the surface of the icebergs by the strength of the wind. It was like a shower of arrows bristling in the atmosphere. The temperature rose singularly during this terrible night. The thermometer marked 57 degrees, and the doctor, to his great astonishment, thought he saw flashes of lightning in the south, followed by the roar of far-off thunder that seemed to corroborate the testimony of the whaler Scorysby, who observed a similar phenomenon above the 65th parallel. Captain Perry was also witness to a similar meteorological wonder in 1821. Towards five o'clock in the morning the weather changed with astonishing rapidity. The temperature went down to freezing point, the wind turned north and became calmer. The western opening to the strait was in sight, but entirely obstructed. Hatteras looked eagerly at the coast, asking himself if the passage really existed. However, the brig got under way and glided slowly amongst the ice streams, whilst the icebergs pressed noisily against her planks. The packs at that epoch were still from six to seven feet thick. They were obliged carefully to avoid their pressure, for if the brig had resisted them she would have run the risk of being lifted up and turned over on her side. At noon, for the first time, they could admire a magnificent solar phenomenon, a halo with two per helia. The doctor observed it and took its exact dimensions. The exterior bow was only visible over an extent of 30 degrees on each side of its horizontal diameter. The two images of the sun were remarkably clear. The colors of the luminous bows proceeded from inside to outside, and were red, yellow, green, and very light blue. In short, white light without any assignable exterior limit. The doctor remembered the ingenious theory of Thomas Young about these meteors. This natural philosopher supposed that certain clouds composed of prisms of ice are suspended in the atmosphere. The rays of the sun that fall on the prisms are decomposed at angles of 60 and 90 degrees. Halos cannot, therefore, exist in a calm atmosphere. The doctor thought this theory very probable. Sailors accustomed to the boreal seas generally consider this phenomenon as the precursor of abundance now. If their observation was just, the position of the forward became very difficult. Caterers, therefore, resolved to go on fast. During the remainder of the day and following night, he did not take a minute's rest, sweeping the horizon with his telescope, taking advantage of the least opening, and losing no occasion of getting out of the strait. But in the morning he was obliged to stop before the insuperable ice bank. The doctor joined him on the poop. Caterers went with him apart, where they could talk without fear of being overheard. We are in for it, began Caterers. It is impossible to go any further. Is there no means of getting out? asked the doctor. None. All the powder in the forward would not make us gain half a mile. What shall we do, then, said the doctor. I don't know. This cursed year has been unfavorable from the beginning. Well, answered the doctor, if we must winter here we must. One place is as good as another. But, said Caterers, lowering his voice, we must not winter here, especially in the month of June. Wintering is full of physical and moral danger. The crew would be unmanageable during a long inaction in the midst of real suffering. I thought I should be able to stop much nearer the poles than this. Luck would have it so, or Bathens Bay wouldn't have been closed. It was open enough for that American, cried Caterers in a rage. Come, Caterers, said the doctor, interrupting him on purpose. Today is only the fifth of June. Don't despair. A passage might suddenly open up before us. You know that the ice has a tendency to break up into several blocks, even in the calmest weather, as if a force of repulsion acted upon the different parts of it. We may find the sea free at any minute. If that minute comes, we shall take advantage of it. It is quite possible that, once out of below Strait, we shall be able to go north by Peel Strait, or MacClintock Channel, and then? Captain, said James Wall, who had come up while Caterers was speaking. The ice nearly carries off our rudder. Well, answered Caterers, we must risk it. We must be ready day and night. You must do all you can to protect it, Mr. Wall, but I can't have it removed. But, added Wall, this is my business, said Caterers severely, and Wall went back to his post.  I know no more dangerous passage. To add to the difficulties the compass is no guide at this distance from the magnetic pole, the needle is constantly shifting its direction. I acknowledge, answered the doctor, that navigation is difficult, but we knew what we had to expect when we began our enterprise, and we ought not to be surprised at it. Ah, doctor, my crew is no longer what it was. The officers are spoiling the men. I could make them do what I want by offering them a pecuniary reward, but I am not seconded by my officers, but they shall pay dearly for it. You are exaggerating, Caterers. No, I'm not. Do you think the crew is sorry for the obstacles that I meet with? On the contrary.  They do not complain now, and they want, as long as the forward is making for the south. The fools. They think they are getting nearer England. But once let me go north and you'll see how they will change.  Only let me find a passage, that's all. One of the captain's wishes was fulfilled soon enough. There was a sudden change during the evening. Under some influence of the wind, the current, or the temperature, the ice fields were separated. The forward went along boldly, breaking up the ice with her steel prowl. We sailed along all night, and the next morning, about six, cleared the low straight. But that was all. The northern passage was completely obstructed, to the great disgust of Caterers. However, he had sufficient strength of character to hide his disappointment. And as if the only passage open was the one he preferred, he let the forward sail down Franklin Strait again. But being able to get up Peelstraight, he resolved to go round Prince of Wales land to get into McClintock Channel. But he felt he could not deceive Shandon and Wall as to the extent of his disappointment. The day of the 6th of June was uneventful, the sky was full of snow, and the prognostics of the halo were fulfilled. During thirty-six hours the forward followed, the windings of Boothia land, unable to approach Prince of Wales land. The captain counted upon getting supplies at Beachy Island. He arrived on the Thursday at the extremity of Franklin Strait, where he again found the road to the north blocked up. It was enough to make him despair. He could not even retrace his steps. The icebergs pushed him onwards, and he saw the passages close up behind him, as if there never had existed open sea where he had passed an hour before. The forward was, therefore, not only prevented from going northwards, but could not stop, still an instant for fear, of being caught, and she fled before the ice as a ship flees before a storm. On Friday, the 8th of June, they arrived near the shore of Boothia at the entrance to James Ross Strait, which they were obliged to avoid, as its only issue is on the west, near the American coasts. Observations taken at noon from this point gave seventy degrees, five minutes and seventeen seconds latitude, and ninety-six degrees, forty-six minutes and forty-five seconds longitude. When the doctor heard that, he consulted his map, and saw there were at the magnetic pole, at the very place where James Ross, the nephew of Sir John, had fixed it. The land was low near the coast, and at about a miles distance became slightly elevated, sixty feet only. The forward's boiler wanted cleaning, and the captain caused the brig to be anchored to an ice field, and allowed the doctor and the boatman to land. He himself cared for nothing but his pet project, and stayed in his cabin, consulting his map of the pole. The doctor and his companion easily succeeded in reaching land. The doctor took a compass to make experiment with. He wished to try if James Ross conclusions hold good. He easily discovered the limestone heap raised by Ross. He ran to it. An opening allowed him to see, in the interior, the tin case, in which James Ross had placed the official report of his discoveries. No living being seemed to have visited this desolate coast for the last thirty years. In this spot, a lodestone needle suspended as delicately as possible, immediately moved into an almost vertical position under the magnetic influence. If the center of attraction was not immediately under the needle, it could only be at a travelling distance. The doctor made the experiment carefully, and found that the imperfect instruments of James Ross had given his vertical needle an inclination of eighty-nine degrees fifty-nine minutes, making the real magnetic point at a minute's distance from the spot, but that his own at a little distance gave him an inclination on ninety degrees. Here is the exact spot of the world's magnetic pole, said the doctor, wrapping the earth. Then said the boatsman, there is no lodestone mountain after all. Of course not! That mountain was only a credulous hypothesis. As you see, there isn't the least mountain capable of attracting ships, of attracting their iron anchor after anchor and nail after nail, and you see it respects your shoes as much as any other land on the globe. Then how do you explain? Nothing is explained, Johnson. We don't know enough for that yet, but it's certain, exact, mathematical, that the magnetic pole is in this very spot. Ah, Mr. Clobony, how happy the captain would be to say as much for the burial pole.  I hope he will, answered the boatsman. He and the doctor elevated a cairn on the exact spot where the experiment had been made, and returned on board at five o'clock in the evening. End of Chapter 16, Chapter 17, of the English at the North Pole. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Part one of the Adventures of Captain Hatteras, the English at the North Pole, by Jules Verne. Chapter 17, The Fate of Sir John Franklin. The foreword succeeded in cutting straight across James Ross Strait, but not without difficulty. The crew were obliged to work the saws and use petards, and they were worn out with fatigue. Happily the temperature was bearable, and 30 degrees higher than that experienced by James Ross at the same epoch. This thermometer marked 34 degrees. On Saturday they doubled Cape Felix at the northern extremity of King William's land, one of the middle-sized isles of the northern seas. The crew there experienced a strong and painful sensation, and many a sad look was turned towards the island as they sailed by the coast. This island had been the theatre of the most terrible tragedy of modern times. Some miles to the west the Airbus and the Terror had been lost forever. The sailors knew about the attempts made to find Admiral Franklin and the results, but they were ignorant of the affecting details of the Catastrophe. While the Doctor was following the progress of the ship on his map, several of them, Bell, Bolton and Simpson, approached and entered into conversation with him. Their comrades, animated by curiosity, soon followed them. While the brig flew along with extreme rapidity, and the coast with its bays, capes and promontories passed before their eyes like a gigantic panorama. The sailors was marching up and down the poop with quick steps. The Doctor on the deck looked round, and saw himself surrounded by almost the whole crew. He saw how powerful a recital would be in such a situation, and he continued the conversation begun with Johnson as fellows. You know how Franklin began, my friends. He was a cabin boy like Cook and Nelson. After having employed his youth in great maritime expeditions, he resolved in 1845 to launch out in search of the Northwest Passage. He commanded the Airbus and the Terror, two vessels, already famous, that had just made an Antarctic campaign under James Ross, in 1840. The Airbus, equipped by Franklin, carried a crew of seventy men, officers and sailors, with Fitz James as captain, Gore and Levis Count Lutnance. This wore Sergeant and Coach Boatswains, and Stanley as surgeon. The Terror had sixty-eight men, Captain Crozier, Lutnance Little, Hawkson and Irving, Corsby and Thomas Wuerze Boatswains, and Padiza Surgeon. In the names on the map of the capes, straits, points and channels, you may read those of these unfortunate men, not one of whom was destined ever again to see his native land. There were a hundred and thirty-eight men in all. We know that Franklin's last letters were addressed from Disco Island, and were dated July 12th, 1845. I hope, he said, to get under way to-night for Lancaster Strait. What happened after his departure from Disco Bay? The captains of two whalers, the Prince of Wales and the Enterprise, perceived the two ships in Melville Bay for the last time, and after that day nothing was heard of them. However, we can follow Franklin in his westerly course. He passed through Lancaster and Barrow Strait, and arrived at Vici Island, where he passed the winter of 1845 and 46. But how do you know all this, asked Bell the carpenter? By three tombs, which Austin discovered on that island in 1850. Three of Franklin's sailors were buried there, and by a document which was found by Leutnant Hobson of the Fox, which bears the date of April 25th, 1848. We know that after their wintering, the Erebus and the Terror went up Wellington Strait as far as the 77's parallel, but instead of continuing their route northwards, which was probably not practicable, they returned south. And that was their ruin, said the grave voice. Safety lay to the north. Everyone turned around. Hatteras leaning on the rail of the poop had just uttered that terrible observation. There is not a doubt, continued the doctor, that Franklin's intention was to get back to the American coast, but the tempest stopped him. And on the 12th of September, 1846, the two ships were seized by the ice, at a few miles from here, to the north-west of Cape Felix. They were dragged along north-northwest to Victoria Point over there, said the doctor, pointing to a part of the sea. Now he continued. The ships were not abandoned till the 22nd of April, 1848. What happened during these nineteen months? What did the poor unfortunate men do? They doubtless explored the surrounding land, attempting any chance of safety, for the admiral was an energetic man, and if he did not succeed? Very likely his crew betrayed him, added Hatteras. The sailors dared not raise their eyes. These words break their conscience. To end my tale, the fatal document informs us, also, that John Franklin succumbed to fatigue on the 11th of June, 1847, honour to his memory, said the doctor, taking off his hat. His audience imitated him in silence. What became of the poor fellows for the next ten months, after they had lost their chief? They remained on board their vessels, and only reserved to abandon them in April, 1848. A hundred and five men out of a hundred and thirty-eight were still living, thirty-three were dead. When Captain Cross year and Captain Fitz James raised a cairn on Victory Point, and there deposited their last document. See my friends, we are pathing the point now. You can still see the remains of the cairn placed on the extreme point, reached by John Ross in 1831. There is Jane Franklin Cape. There is Franklin Point. There is Levas Conte Point. There is Erebus Bay, where the boat made out of the debris of one of the vessels was found on a sledge. Silver spoons, provisions in abundance, chocolate, tea, and religious books were found there, too. The hundred and five survivors, under Captain Cross year, started for Great Fish River. Where did they get to? Did they succeed in reaching Hudson's Bay? Did any survive? What became of them after this last departure? I will tell you what became of them, said John Hatteras in a firm voice. Yes, they did try to reach Hudson's Bay, and they split up into several parties. Yes, they did make for the South. A letter from Dr. Ray in 1854 contained the information that in 1850 the Eskimo had met on King William's land, a detachment of forty men travelling on the ice, and dragging a boat, thin, emaciated, worn out by fatigue and suffering. Later on they discovered thirty corpses on the Continent, and five on a neighbouring island, some half-buried, some left without burial, some under a boat torn upside down, others under the remains of a tent, here an officer with his telescope on his shoulder, and a loaded gun at his side, further on a boiler with the remnants of a horrible meal. When the Admiralty received these tidings, it begged the Hudson's Bay Company to send its most experienced agents to the scene. They descended back river to its mouth. They visited the islands of Montreal, Maconohi, and Ogle Point, but they discovered nothing. All the poor wretches had died from misery, suffering, and hunger, while trying to prolong their existence by the dreadful research of cannibalism. That is what became of them on the southern route. Well, do you still wish to march in their footsteps? His trembling voice, his passionate gestures, and beaming face produced an indescribable effect. The crew, excited by its emotion before this fatal land, cried out with one voice, to the north, to the north. Yes, to the north. Safety and glory lie to the north. Heaven is for us. The wind is changing. The path is free. So saying, Hatteras gave orders to turn the vessel. The sailors went to work with alacrity. The ice streams got clear little by little. The forward, with all steam on, made for McClintock Channel. Hatteras was right when he counted upon a more open sea. He followed up the supposed route taken by Franklin, sailing along the western coast of Prince of Wales land, then pretty well known, whilst the opposite shore is still unknown. It was evident that the breaking up of the ice had taken place in the eastern locks, for this strait appeared entirely free. The forward made up for lost time. She fled along so quickly that she passed Osborne Bay on the 14th of June, and the extreme points attained by the expeditions of 1851. Icebergs were still numerous, but the sea did not threaten to quit the keel of the forward. End of Chapter 17, Chapter 18 of the English at the North Pole. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Part 1 of the Adventures of Captain Hatteras, the English at the North Pole, by Jules Verne. Chapter 18, The Northern Route. The crew seemed to have returned to its habits of discipline and obedience. There was little fatiguing work to do, and they had a good deal of leisure. The temperature kept above freezing point, and it seemed as if the saw had removed the great obstacles to navigation. Dick, now sociable and familiar, had made great friends with Dr. Cloboney. But as in most friendships, one friend has to give way to the other. It must be acknowledged it was not the dog. Dick did what he liked with the doctor, who obeyed him, as if he were the dog. He was amiable with most of the sailors and officers on board, only by instinct doubtless he shunned Shandon's society. He also kept up a grudge against Penn and Fokker. He vented his hatred of them by growling at their approach. But they dare not now attack the captain's dog, his familiar, as Clifton called him. On the whole, the crew had plucked up courage again, and worked well. It seems to me, said James Wall, one day to Richard Shandon, that our men took the captain's speech seriously. They no longer seemed to be doubtful of success. The more fools they answered Shandon, if they reflected, if they examined the situation, they would see that we are going out of one imprudence into another. But continued Wall, the sea is open now, and we are getting back into well-known tracks. Aren't you exaggerating a bit, Shandon? No, I'm not exaggerating. The dislike I feel to Hatteras is not blinding me. Have you seen the coal holes lately? No, answered Wall. Well then, go and examine them. You will see how much there's left. He ought to have navigated under sail, and have kept the engine for currents and contrary winds. He ought only to have used his coal, where he was obliged. Who can tell where we shall be kept, and for how many years? But Hatteras only thinks about getting north. Whether the wind is contrary or not, he goes along at full steam, and if things go on as they are doing now, we shall soon be in a pretty pickle. If what you say is true it is very serious. Yes, it is, because of the wintering. What shall we do without coal in a country where even the thermometer freezes? But, if I'm not mistaken, the captain counts upon renewing his stock of coal at Beechee Island. It appears there is a large provision there. And suppose we can't reach Beechee Island? What will become of us then? You are right, Shandon. Hatteras seems to me very imprudent. But why don't you expostulate with him on the subject? No, said Shandon, with ill-concealed bitterness. I won't say a word. It is nothing to do with me now. I shall wait to see what turns up. I shall obey orders, and not give my own opinion where it is not wanted. Follow me to tell you that you are in the wrong, Shandon. You have as much interest in setting yourself against the captain's imprudence as we have. He wouldn't listen to me if I were to speak. Do you think he would? Wall dared not answer in the affirmative, and he added. But perhaps he would listen to the crew. The crew, answered Shandon, shrugging his shoulders. You don't know the crew. The men know they are nearing the seventy-second parallel, and that they will earn a thousand pounds for every degree about that. The captain knew what he was doing when he offered them that. Of course he did, and for the present he can do what he likes with them. What do you mean? I mean that while they have nothing to do and there is an open sea, they will go on right enough. But wait till difficulty and danger come, and you will see how much they will think about the money. Then you don't think Hatteras will succeed? No, he will not. To succeed in such an enterprise there must be a good understanding between him and his officers, and that does not exist. Hatteras is a madman. All his past career proves it. While we shall see, perhaps circumstances will force them to give the command to a less adventurous captain. Still said Wall, shaking his head, he will always have on his side Dr. Clobony, a man who only cares for science and Johnson, a sailor who only cares to obey, and perhaps two more men like Bell, the carpenter, four at the most, and we are eighteen on board. No wall. Hatteras has not got the confidence of his men, and he knows it. So he bribes them. He profited cleverly by the Franklin affair.  And if he doesn't reach Beachy Island, he is a lost man. Oh, suppose the crew should take it into its head? Don't tell the crew what I think, answered Shandon quickly. The men will soon see for themselves. Besides, just now we must go north. Who knows if Hatteras won't find that way will bring us back sooner. At the end of McClintock Channel lies Melville Bay, and from thence goes the straits that lead to Bethins Bay. Hatteras must take care. The way to the east is easier than the road to the north. Hatteras was not mistaken, in his opinion, that Shandon would betray him if he could. Besides, Shandon was right in attributing the contentment of the men to the hope of gain. Clifton had counted exactly how much each man would have, without reckoning the captain and the doctor, who would not expect a share in the bounty, money. There remained sixteen men to divide it amongst. If ever they succeeded in reaching the pole, each man would have one thousand one hundred and twenty-five pounds, that is to say, a fortune. It would cost the captain eighteen thousand pounds, but he could afford it. The thoughts of the money inflamed the minds of the crew, and they were now as anxious to go north, as before they had been eager to turn south. The forward, during the day of June the sixteenth, passed Cape Aworth. Mount Rollingson raised its white peaks towards the sky. The snow and fog made it appear colossal, as they exaggerated its distance. The temperature still kept some degrees above freezing point. Improvised cascades and cataracts showed themselves on the sides of the mountains, and avalanches roared down with the noise of artillery discharges. The glaciers, spread out in long white sheets, projected an immense reverberation into space. Burial nature, and its struggle with the frost, presented a splendid spectacle. The brig went very near the coast. On some sheltered rocks, rare heaths were to be seen. The pink flowers lifting their heads timidly out of the snows, and some meager leachens of a reddish color and the shoots of a dwarf willow. At last, on the nineteenth of June, at the famous seventy-third parallel, they doubled Cape Mintel, which forms one of the extremities of Omani Bay. The brig entered Melville Bay, surnamed by Bolton Money Bay. The merry sailors joked about the name, and made Dr. Klobany love hertally. Noticed standing a strong breeze from the north-east, the forward made considerable progress, and on the twentieth-third of June she passed the seventy-fourth degree of latitude. She was in the midst of Melville Bay, one of the most considerable seas in these regions. The sea was crossed for the first time by Captain Perry in his great expedition of 1819, and it was then that his crew earned the prize of five thousand pounds, promised by Act of Parliament. Clifton remarked that there were two degrees from the seventy-second to the seventy-fourth. That already placed one hundred and twenty pounds to his credit. They told him that a fortune was not worth much there, and that it was of no use being rich if he could not drink his riches, and he had better wait till he could roll under a Liverpool table before he rejoiced and rubbed his hands. End of Chapter 18, Chapter 19, of the English at the North Pole. Melville Bay, though easily navigable, was not free from ice. Ice fields lay as far as the utmost limits of the horizon. A few icebergs appeared here and there, but they were immovable, as if anchored in the midst of the frozen fields. The forward, with all steam on, followed the wide passes where it was easy to work her. The wind changed frequently, from one point of the compass to another. The variability of the wind in the arctic seas is a remarkable fact. Sometimes a dead calm is followed in a few minutes by a violent tempest, as the forward found to her cost, on the twenty-third of June, in the midst of the immense bay. The more constant winds blow from off the iceberg onto the open sea, and are intensely cold. On that day the thermometer fell several degrees. The wind veered round to the south, and violent gusts sweeping over the ice fields brought a thick snow along with them. Heterus immediately caused the sails that helped the screw to be furrowed, but not quickly enough to prevent his little foresail being carried away in the twinkling of an eye. Heterus worked his ship with the greatest composure, and did not leave the deck during the tempest. He was obliged to fly before the weather, and to turn westward. The wind raised up enormous waves, in the midst of which blocks of ice balanced themselves. These blocks were of all sizes and shapes, and had been struck off the surrounding ice fields. The brig was tossed about like a child's plaything, and morsels of the packs were thrown over the hull. At one instant she was lying perpendicularly along the side of a liquid mountain. Her steel prow concentrated the light, and shone like a melting metal bar. At another she was down an abyss, plunging her head into whirlwinds of snow, whilst her screws, out of the water, turned in space with a sinister noise, striking the air with their paddles. Then mixed with the snow and fell in torrents. The doctor could not miss such an occasion of getting wet to the skin. He remained on deck, a prey, to that emotional admiration which a scientific man must necessarily feel during such a spectacle. His nearest neighbor could not have heard him speak, so he said nothing and watched. But whilst watching, he was witness to an odd phenomenon, peculiar to hyperborean regions. The tempest was confined to a restricted area, and only extended for about three or four miles. The winds that passes over ice fields loses much of its strength, and cannot carry its violence far out. The doctor perceived from time to time, through an opening in the tempest, a calm sky and a quiet sea beyond some ice fields. The forward would therefore only have to take advantage of some channels, left by the ice, to find a peaceful navigation again. But she ran the risk of being thrown on to the one of the moving banks, which followed the movement of the swell. However, in a few hours Hatteras succeeded in getting his ship into a calm sea, whilst the violence of the hurricane spent itself at a few cable lengths from the forward. Melville Bay no longer presented the same aspect. Under the influence of the winds and the waves, a great number of icebergs, detached from the coast, floated northward, running against one another in every direction. There were several hundreds of them, but the bay is very wide, and the brig easily avoided them. The spectacle of these floating masses was magnificent. They seemed to be having a grand race for it on the open sea. The doctor was getting quite excited with watching them, when the harpooner, Simpson, came up and made him look at the changing tins in the sea. They varied from a deep blue to olive green. Long stripes stretched north and south in such decided lines that the eye could follow each shade out of sight. Sometimes a transparent sheet of water would follow a perfectly opaque sheet. Well, Mr. Klaubany, what do you think of that? said Simpson. I am of the same opinion as the whaler Scorsby, under nature of the different colored waters. Blue water has no amyl kule, and green water is full of them. Scorsby has made several experiments on this subject, and I think he is right. Well, sir, I know something else about the colors in the sea, and if I were a whaler, I should be precious glad to see them. But I don't see any whales, answered the doctor. You won't be long before you do, though, I can tell you. A whaler is lucky when he meets with those green stripes under this latitude. Why? asked the doctor, who always liked to get information from anybody, who understood what they were talking about. Because whales are always found in great quantities in green water. What's the reason for that? Because they find plenty of food in them. Are you sure of that? I've seen it a hundred times, at least, in Baffin Sea. Why shouldn't it be the same in Melville Bay? Besides, look there, Mr. Clobony, I did Simpson, leaning over the barricading. Why, anyone would think it was the wake of a ship? It is an oily substance that the whale leaves behind. The animal can't be far off. The atmosphere was impregnated with a strong oily odor, and the doctor attentively watched the surface of the water. The prediction of the harpoonir was soon accomplished. Fokker called out from the must-head, a whale alley. All looks turned to the direction indicated. A small spout was perceived coming up out of the sea, about a mile from the brick. There she spouts, cried Simpson, who knew what that meant. She has disappeared, answered the doctor. Oh, we could find her again easily enough if necessary, said Simpson, with an accent of regret. To his great astonishment, and although no one dared ask for it, Heteros gave orders to man the whaler. Johnson went off to the stern, while Simpson's harpoon in hand stood in the bow. They could not prevent the doctor joining the expedition. The sea was pretty calm. The whaler soon got off, and in ten minutes was a mile from the brick. The whale had taken in another provision of air, and had plunged again. But she soon returned to the surface, and spouted out that mixture of gas and mucous that escapes from her air-holes. There, there, said Simpson, pointing to a spot about eight hundred yards from the boat. It was soon alongside the animal, and as they had seen her from the brick too, she came nearer, keeping little steam on. The enormous cetacean disappeared, and reappeared as the waves rose and fell, showing its black back like a rock in open sea. Whales do not swim quickly unless they are pursued, and this one only rocked itself in the waves. The boat silently approached along the green water. Its opacity prevented the animal seeing the enemy. It is always an agitating spectacle when a fragile boat attacks one of these monsters. This one was about 130 feet long, and it is not rare, between the 72nd and the 80th degree, to meet with whales more than 180 feet long. Ancient writers have described animals more than 700 feet long, but they drew upon their imagination for their facts. The boat soon neared the whale. On a sign from Simpson, the man rested on their oars, and brandishing his harpoon, the experienced sailor threw it with all his strength. It went deep into the thick covering of fat. The wounded whale struck the sea with its tail and plunged. The four oars were immediately raised perpendicularly. The cord fastened to the harpoon, and attached to the bow, rolled rapidly out and dragged the boat along, steered cleverly by Johnson. The whale got away from the brig, and made for the moving icebergs. She kept on for more than half an hour. They were obliged to wet the cord facing to the harpoon, to prevent it catching fire by rubbing against the boat. When the whale seemed to be going along a little more slowly, the cord was pulled in, little by little, and rolled up. The whale soon reappeared on the surface of the sea, which she beat with her formidable tail. Variable waterspouts fell in a violent rain onto the boat. It was getting nearer. Simpson had seized a long glance, and was preparing to give close battle to the animal. When all at once the whale glided into a path between two mountainous icebergs. The pursuit then became really dangerous. The devil, said Johnson. Go ahead, cried Simpson, we've got her. But we can't follow her into the icebergs, said Johnson, steering steadily. Yes, we can, cried Simpson. No, no, cried some of the sailors. Yes, yes, said others. During the discussion the whale had got between two floating mountains, which the swell was bringing close together. The boat was being dragged into this dangerous part, when Johnson rushed to the fore, and acts in his hand, and cuts the cord. He was just in time. The two mountains came together with a tremendous crash, crushing the unfortunate animal. The whales lost, cried Simpson. But we are saved, answered Johnson. Well, said the doctor, who had not moved, that was worth seeing. The crushing force of these ice mountains is enormous. The whale was victim to an accident that often happens in these seas. Scores B relates that in the course of a single summer thirty whales perished in the same way in Bethan Sea. He saw a three-master flattened in a minute between two immense walls of ice. Other vessels were split through, as if with the lands, by pointed icicles a hundred feet long, meeting through the planks. A few minutes afterwards the boat hailed the brig, and was soon in its accustomed place on deck. It is a lesson for those who are imprudent enough to adventure into the channels amongst the ice, said Shendon in a loud voice. The Adventures of Captain Hatteras Part 1 The English at the North Pole by Jules Verne Chapter 20 Beachy Island On the twenty-fifth of June the forward arrived in sight of Cape Dundas at the northwestern extremity of Prince of Wales' land. There the difficulty of navigating amongst the ice grew greater. The sea is narrower there, and the line made by Crozier, Young, Day, Louther, and Garrett Islands, like a chain of forts before a roadstead, forced the ice streams to accumulate in this strait. The brig took from the twenty-fifth to the thirtieth of June to make as much way as she would have done in one day under any other circumstances. She stopped, retraced her steps, waiting for a favorable occasion so as not to Miss Beachy Island, using a great deal of coal as the fires were only moderated when she had to halt, but were never put out so that she might be under pressure day and night. Hatteras knew the extent of his coal provision as well as Shandon, but as he was certain of getting his provision renewed at Beachy Island, he would not lose a minute for the sake of economy. He had been much delayed by his forced march southward, and although he had taken the precaution of leaving England before the month of April, he did not find himself more advanced than preceding expeditions had been in the same epoch. On the thirtieth they sighted Cape Walker at the northeastern extremity of Prince of Wales's land. It was the extreme point that Kennedy and below perceived on the third of May, 1852, after an excursion across the whole of North Somerset. Before that, in 1851, Captain Omani, of the Austin Expedition, had the good luck to revictual his detachments there. This Cape is very high and remarkable for its reddish-brown color. From there, when the weather is clear, the view stretches as far as the entrance to Wellington Channel. Towards evening they saw Cape Below separated from Cape Walker by McLean Bay. Cape Below was so named in the presence of the young French officer, for whom the English expedition gave three cheers. At this spot, the coast is made of yellowish limestone, presenting a very rugged outline. It is defended by enormous icebergs, which the North winds pile up there in a most imposing way. It was soon lost to sight by the forward as she opened a passage amongst the ice to get to Beachy Island through Barrow Strait. Hatteras resolved to go straight on, and so as not to be drifted further than the island, scarcely quitted his post during the following days. He often went to the Masthead to look out for the most advantageous channels. All that pluck, skill and genius could do, he did while they were crossing the Strait. Fortune did not favor him, for the sea is generally more open at this epoch, but at last, by dint of sparing neither his steam, his crew, nor himself, he attained his end. On the third of July, at eleven o'clock in the morning, the ice master signaled land to the North. After taking an observation, Hatteras recognized Beachy Island, that general meeting place of Arctic navigators. Almost all ships that adventure in these seas stopped there. Franklin wintered there for the first time before getting into Wellington Strait, and Creswell, with Lieutenant McClure, after having cleared 170 miles on the ice, rejoined the phoenix and returned to England. The last ship which anchored at Beachy Island before the forward was the Fox. McClintock revictualed there, the 11th of August, 1858, and repaired the habitations and magazines. Only two years had elapsed since then, and Hatteras knew all these details. The bosons heart beat with emotion at the sight of this island. When he had visited it, he was the quartermaster on board the phoenix. Hatteras questioned him about the coastline, the facilities for anchoring, how far they could go inland, etc. The weather was magnificent, and the temperature kept at 57 degrees. Well, Johnson, said the captain, do you know where you are? Yes, sir, that is Beachy Island. Only you must let us get further north. The coast is more easy of access. But where are the habitations and the magazines? said Hatteras. Oh, you can't see them until you land. They are sheltered behind those little hills you see yonder. And is that where you transported a considerable quantity of provisions? Yes, sir, the Admiralty sent us here in 1853 under the command of Captain Engelfield and the steamer phoenix and a transport ship, the Bredelbane, loaded with provisions. We brought enough with us to revictual a whole expedition. But the commander of the Fox took a lot of them in 1858, said Hatteras. That doesn't matter, sir. There will be plenty left for you. The cold preserves them wonderfully, and we shall find them as fresh and in as good a state of preservation as the first day. What I want is coal, said Hatteras. I have enough provisions for several years. We left more than a thousand tons there, so you can make your mind easy. Are we getting near? said Hatteras, who telescope in hand was watching the coast. You see that point, continued Johnson. When we have doubled it, we shall be very near where we drop anchor. It was from that place that we started for England with Lieutenant Creswell and the twelve invalids from the investigator. We were fortunate enough to bring back McClure's lieutenant, but the officer below, who accompanied us on board the Phoenix, never saw his country again. It is a painful thing to think about. But Captain, I think we ought to drop anchor here. Very well, answered Hatteras, and he gave his orders in consequence. The forward was in a little bay naturally sheltered on the north, east, and south, and at about a cable's length from the coast. Mr. Wall, said Hatteras, have the longboat got ready to transport the coal on board. I shall land in the parogue with the doctor in the boson. Will you accompany us, Mr. Shandon? As you please, answered Shandon. A few minutes later the doctor, armed as a sportsman and a savant, took his place in the parogue along with his companions. In ten minutes they landed on a low and rocky coast. Lead the way, Johnson, said Hatteras. You know what I suppose? Perfectly, sir, only there's a monument here that I did not expect to find. That! cried the doctor. I know what it is. Let us go up to it. The stone itself will tell us. The four men advanced, and the doctor said, after taking off his hat, this, my friends, is a monument in memory of Franklin and his companions. Lady Franklin had, in 1855, confided a black marble tablet to Dr. Cain, and in 1858 she gave a second to McClintic to be raised on Beachy Island. McClintic accomplished this duty religiously, and placed the stone near a funeral monument erected to the memory of below by Sir John Barrow. The tablet bore the following inscription. To the memory of Franklin Crozier, Fitz James, and all their valiant brethren officers and faithful companions, who suffered for the cause of science and for their country's glory. This stone is erected near the place where they passed their first arctic winter, and from whence they departed to conquer obstacles or to die. It perpetuates the regret of their countrymen and friends who admire them, and the anguish, conquered by faith, of her who lost in the chief of the expedition the most devoted and most affectionate of husbands. It is thus that he led them to the supreme haven where all men take their rest, 1855. The stone, on a forlorn coast of these far-off regions, appealed mournfully to the heart. The doctor, in presence of these touching regrets, felt his eyes fill with tears.  And notwithstanding this somber warning of destiny, the forward was going to follow in the track of the arabists and the terror. Hatteras was the first to rouse himself from the perilous contemplation, and quickly climbed a rather steep hill, almost entirely bare of snow. Captain, said Johnson, following him, we shall see the magazines from here. Shandon and the doctor joined them on the summit, but from there the eye contemplated the vast plains, on which there remained no vestige of a habitation. This is singular, cried the boson. Well, and where are the magazines? said Hatteras quickly. I don't know, I don't see, stammered Johnson. You have mistaken the way, said the doctor. It seemed to me that this was the very place, continued Johnson. Well, said Hatteras impatiently, where are we to go now? We had better go down, for I may be mistaken, I may have forgotten the exact locality in seven years. Especially when the country is so uniformly monotonous, added the doctor. And yet, murmured Johnson, Shandon had not spoken a word. After walking for a few minutes Johnson stopped. But no, he cried, I am not mistaken. Well, said Hatteras, looking round him, do you see that swell of the ground? asked the boson, pointing to a sort of mound with three distinct swells on it. What do you conclude from that? asked the doctor. Those are the three graves of Franklin's sailors. I am sure now that I am not mistaken. The habitations ought to be about a hundred feet from here, and if they are not, they— He dared not finish his sentence. Hatteras had rushed forward, a prey to violent despair. There, where the wished-for stores on which he had counted ought to have been, there ruin, pillage, and destruction had been before him. Who had done it? Animals would only have attacked the provisions, and there did not remain a single rag from the tent, a piece of wood or iron, and more terrible still, not a fragment of coal. It was evident that the Eskimos had learned the value of these objects from their frequent relations with Europeans. Since the departure of the Fox, they had fetched everything away, and had not left a trace even of their passage. A slight coating of snow covered the ground. Hatteras was confounded. The doctor looked and shook his head. Shandon still said nothing, but an attentive observer would have noticed his lips curl with a cruel smile. At this moment the men sent by Lieutenant Wall came up. They soon saw the state of affairs. Shandon advanced towards the captain and said, Mr. Hatteras, we need not despair. Happily we are near the entrance to Barrow Strait, which will take us back to Baffin C. Mr. Shandon, answered Hatteras, happily we are near the entrance to Wellington Strait, and that will take us north. But how shall we get along, Captain? With the sails, sir, we have two months firing left, and that is enough for our wintering. But allow me to tell you, added Shandon, I will allow you to follow me on board my ship, sir, answered Hatteras, and turning his back on his second he returned to the brig and shut himself up in his cabin. For the next two days the wind was contrary, and the captain did not show up on deck. The doctor profited by the forced sojourn to go over beachy island. He gathered some plants, which the temperature, relatively high, allowed to grow here and there on the rocks that the snow had left, some heaths, a few lichens, a sort of yellow renunculus, a sort of plant thing like sorrel, with wider leaves and more veins, and some pretty vigorous sacks of rages. He found the fauna of this country much richer than the flora. He perceived long flocks of geese and cranes going northward, partridges, iderducks of a bluish black, sandpipers, a sort of wading bird of the Scalapax class, northern divers, plungers with very long bodies, numerous termites, a sort of bird very good to eat, dove-keys with black bodies, wings spotted with white, feet and beak red as coral.   Some bears, evidently accustomed to dread the presence of men, would not allow themselves to be god at, and the seals were extremely timid, doubtless for the same reason as their enemies the bears. The class of articulated animals was represented by a single mosquito, which the doctor caught to his great delight, though not till it had stung him. As a concoologist he was less favoured, and only found a sort of muscle and some bivalve shells. 21. The Death of Below The temperature during the days of the third and fourth of July kept up to fifty-seven degrees. This was the highest thermometric point observed during the campaign. But on Thursday the fifth, the wind turned to the southeast and was accompanied by violent snow storms. The thermometer fell during the preceding night to twenty-three degrees. Hatteras took no notice of the murmurs of the crew, and gave orders to get under way. For the last thirteen days, from Cape Dundas, the forward had not been able to gain one more degree north, so the party represented by Clifton was no longer satisfied, but wished like Hatteras to get into Wellington Channel, and worked away with a will. The brig had some difficulty in getting under sail, but Hatteras having set his mizzen sail, his top sails, and his gallant sails during the night, advanced boldly in the midst of fields of ice which the current was drifting south. The crew were tired out with this winding navigation, which kept them constantly at work at the sails. Wellington Channel is not very wide. It is bounded by North Devon on the east and Cornwallis Island on the west. This island was long believed to be a peninsula. It was Sir John Franklin who first sailed rounded in 1846, starting west and coming back to the same point to the north of the Channel. The exploration of Wellington Channel was made in 1851 by Captain Penny in the whalers Lady Franklin and Sophia. One of his lieutenants, Stuart, reached Cape Beecher in latitude seventy-six degrees twenty minutes and discovered the open sea, that open sea which was Hatteras's dream. What Stuart found I shall find, said he to the doctor, then I shall be able to set sail to the pole. But aren't you afraid that your crew, my crew, said Hatteras severely, then in low tone, poor fellows, murmured he to the great astonishment of the doctor. It was the first expression of feeling he had heard the captain deliver. No, he repeated with energy, they must follow me, they shall follow me. However, although the forward had nothing to fear from the collision of the ice-streams, which were still pretty far apart, they made very little progress northward, for contrary winds often forced them to stop. They passed Cape's Spencer and Innis slowly, and on Tuesday the tenth, cleared seventy-five degrees to the great delight of Clifton. The forward was then at the very place where the American ships, the rescue and the advance, encountered such terrible dangers. Dr. Cain formed part of this expedition. Towards the end of September, 1850, these ships got caught in an ice bank and were forcibly driven into Lancaster Strait. It was Shandon who related this catastrophe to James Wall before some of the Briggs crew. The advance and the rescue, he said to them, were so knocked about by the ice that they were obliged to leave off fires on board, but that did not prevent the temperature sinking eighteen degrees below zero. During the whole winter the unfortunate crews were kept prisoners in the ice bank, ready to abandon their ships at any moment. For three weeks they did not even change their clothes. They floated along in that dreadful situation for more than a thousand miles, when at last they were thrown into the middle of Baffins Sea. The effect of this speech upon the crew, already badly disposed, can be well imagined. During this conversation Johnson was talking to the doctor about an event that had taken place in those very quarters. He asked the doctor to tell him when the brig was in latitude seventy-five degrees thirty minutes, and when they passed it he cried, Yes, it was just there! In saying which, tears filled his eyes. You mean that Lieutenant Below died there? said the doctor. Yes, Mr. Claubani, he was as good and brave a fellow as ever lived. It was upon this very north-devin coast. It was to be I suppose, but if Captain Pullin had returned on board sooner it would not have happened. What do you mean, Johnson? Listen to me, Mr. Claubani, and you will see on what a slight threat existence often hangs. You know that Lieutenant Below went his first campaign in search of Franklin in eighteen fifty? Yes, on the Prince Albert. Well, when he got back to France he obtained permission to embark on board the Phoenix under Captain Engelfield. I was a sailor on board. We came with the Bredle Bain to transport provisions to Beachy Island. Those provisions we unfortunately did not find. Well? We reached Beachy Island in the beginning of August. On the tenth Captain Engelfield left the Phoenix to rejoin Captain Pullin, who had been separated from his ship, the North Star, for a month. When he came back he thought of sending his admiralty dispatches to Sir Edward Belcher, who was wintering in Wellington Channel. A little while after the departure of our Captain, Captain Pullin got back to his ship. Why did he not arrive before the departure of Captain Engelfield? Lieutenant Below, fearing that our Captain would be long away and knowing that the admiralty dispatches ought to be sent at once, offered to take them himself. He left the command of the two ships to Captain Pullin, and set out on the twelfth of August with a sledge and an India rubber boat. He took the boson of the North Star, Harvey with him, and three sailors, Madden, David Hook, and me. We supposed that Sir Edward Belcher was to be found in the neighbourhood of Beecher Cape, to the north of the Channel. We made for it with our sledge along the eastern coast. The first day we encamped about three miles from Cape Innis. The next day we stopped on a block of ice about three miles from Cape Bowden. As landlayed about three miles distance, Lieutenant Below resolved to go and encamp there during the night, which was as light as the day. He tried to get to it in his India rubber canoe. He was twice repulsed by a violent breeze from the southeast. Harvey and Madden attempted the passage in their turn, and were more fortunate. They took a cord with them, and established a communication between the coast and the sledge. Three objects were transported by means of the cord, but at the fourth attempt we felt our block of ice move. Mr. Below called out to his companions to drop the cord, and we were dragged to a great distance from the coast. The wind blew from the southeast, and it was snowing, but we were not in much danger, and the Lieutenant might have come back as we did. Here Johnson stopped an instant to take a glance at the fatal coast, and continued. After our companions were lost to sight, we tried to shelter ourselves under the tent of our sledge, but in vain. Then, with our knives, we began to cut out a house in the ice. Mr. Below helped us for a half an hour, and talked to us about the danger of our situation. I told him I was not afraid. By God's help, he answered, we shall not lose a hair of our heads. I asked him what a clock it was, and he answered, about a quarter past six. It was a quarter past six in the morning of Thursday, August 18th. Then Mr. Below tied up his books, and said he would go and see how the ice floated. He had only been gone four minutes when I went round the block of ice to look for him. I saw his stick on the opposite side of a crevice, about five fathoms wide, where the ice was broken, but I could not see him anywhere. I called out, but no one answered. The wind was blowing great guns. I looked all round the block of ice, but found no trace of the poor lieutenant. What do you think had become of him? said the doctor, much moved. I think that when Mr. Below got out of shelter, the wind blew him into the crevice, and as his great coat was buttoned up, he could not swim. Oh, Mr. Clowbonnie! I never was more grieved in my life. I could not believe it. He was a victim to duty, for it was in order to obey Captain Pullin's instructions that he tried to get to land. He was a good fellow. Everybody liked him, even the Eskimos, when they learned his fate from Captain Engelfield on his return from Pound Bay, cried while they wept, as I am doing now. Poor Bello! Poor Bello! But you and your companion, Johnson, said the doctor, how did you manage to reach land? Oh, we stayed twenty-four hours more on the block of ice, without food or firing, but at last we met with an ice field, we jumped on to it, and with the help of an ore we fastened ourselves to an iceberg that we could guide like a raft, and we got to land but without our brave officer. By the time Johnson had finished his story, the forward had passed the fatal coast, and Johnson lost sight of the place of the painful catastrophe. The next day they left Griffin Bay to the starboard, and two days after, capes Grinnell and Helpmann. At last, on the fourteenth of July, they doubled Osbourne Point, and on the fifteenth, the brig anchored in Bering Bay at the extremity of the Channel. Navigation had not been very difficult. Hatteras met with a sea almost as free as that of which Belcher profited to go in winter with the pioneer and the assistance as far north as seventy-seven degrees. It was in eighteen-fifty-two and eighteen-fifty-three during his first wintering, for he passed the winter of eighteen-fifty-three to fifty-four in Bering Bay, where the forward was now at anchor. He suffered so much that he was obliged to leave the assistance in the midst of the ice. Shandon told all these details to the already discontented sailors. Did Hatteras know how he was betrayed by his first officer? It is impossible to say. If he did, he said nothing about it. At the top of Bering Bay there is a narrow channel which puts Wellington and Queen's Channel into communication with each other. There the rafts of ice lie closely packed. Hatteras tried in vain to clear the passes to the north of Hamilton Island. The wind was contrary. Five precious days were lost in useless efforts. The temperature still lowered, and, on the seventeenth of July, fell to twenty-six degrees. It got higher the following day, but this foretaste of winter made Hatteras afraid of waiting any longer. The wind seemed to be going to keep in the west and to stop the progress of the ship. However, he was in a hurry to gain the point where Stuart had met with the open sea. On the nineteenth he resolved to get into the channel at any price. The wind blew right on the brig, which might, with her screw, have stood against it, had not Hatteras been obliged to economize his fuel. On the other hand, the channel was too wide to allow the men to haul the brig along. Hatteras, not considering the men's fatigue, resolved to have recourse to means often employed by whalers under similar circumstances. The men took it in turns to row so as to push the brig on against the wind. The foreword advanced slowly up the channel. The men were worn out and murmured loudly. They went on in that manner until the twenty-third of July when they reached Bering Island in Queen's Channel. The wind was still against them. The doctor thought the health of the men much shaken and perceived the first symptoms of scurvy amongst them. He did all he could to prevent the spread of the wretched malady and distributed lime juice to the men. Hatteras saw that he could no longer count upon his crew. Reasoning and kindness were ineffectual, so he resolved to employ severity for the future. He suspected Shandon and Whal, though they dare not speak out openly. Hatteras had the doctor, Johnson, Bell, and Simpson for him. They were devoted to him body and soul. Amongst the undecided were Foker, Bolton, Wolston the Gunsmith, and Brunton the First Engineer. They might turn against the Captain at any moment. As to Penn, Gripper, Clifton, and Warren, they were an open revolt. They wished to persuade their comrades to force the Captain to return to England. Hatteras soon saw that he could not continue to work his ship with such a crew. He remained twenty-four hours at Bering Island without taking a step forward. The weather grew colder still, for winter begins to be felt in July in these high latitudes. On the twenty-fourth the thermometer fell to twenty-two degrees. Young ice formed during the night, and if snow fell it would soon be thick enough to bear the weight of a man. The sea began already to have that dirty colour which precedes the formation of the first crystals. Hatteras could not mistake these alarming symptoms. If the channels got blocked up he should be obliged to winter there at a great distance from the point he had undertaken the voyage in order to reach, without having caught a glimpse of that open sea which his predecessors made out was so near. He resolved then to gain several degrees further north at whatever cost. Seeing that he could not employ the oars without the rowers were willing, nor sail in a contrary wind, he gave orders to put steam on again. The Adventures of Captain Hatteras. Part One. The English at the North Pole. By Jules Verne. Beginning of Revolt. At this unexpected command the surprise was great on board the forward. "'Light the fires,' exclaimed some. "'What with?' asked others. "'When we've only two months coal in the hold,' said Penn. "'What shall we warm ourselves with in the winter?' asked Clifton. "'We shall be obliged to burn the brig down to our water-line,' answered Gripper. "'And stuff the stove with the masts,' added Warren. Shandon looked at Wall. The stupefied engineers hesitated to go down to the machine-room. "'Did you hear me?' cried the captain in an irritated tone. Brunton made for the hatchway, but before going down he stopped. "'Don't go, Brunton,' called out a voice. "'Who spoke?' cried Hatteras. "'I did,' said Penn, advancing towards the captain. "'And what did you say?' asked Hatteras. "'I say,' answered Penn with an oath. "'I say we've had enough of it, and we won't go any further.   Seize that man, do you hear, Johnson? Bell and Simpson advanced towards the sailor, who was in a terrible passion. "'The first who touches me,' he said, brandishing a hand-spike.' Hatteras approached him. "'Penn,' he said tranquilly, "'if you move, I shall blow out your brains.' So speaking, he cocked a pistol, and aimed it at the sailor. A murmur was heard. "'Not a word, man,' said Hatteras, or that man falls dead. Johnson and Bell disarmed Penn, who no longer made any resistance, and placed him in the hold. "'Go, Brunton,' said Hatteras. The engineer, followed by Plover and Warren, went down to his post. Hatteras returned to the poop. "'That Penn is a wretched fellow,' said the doctor. "'No man has ever been nearer death,' answered the captain, simply. The steam was soon got up, the anchors were weighed, and the foreward veered away east, cutting the young ice with her steel prow. Between Bering Island and Beecher Point, there are a considerable quantity of islands in the midst of ice fields. The streams crowd together in the little channels, which cut up this part of the sea. They had a tendency to agglomerate under the relatively low temperature. Hummocks were formed here and there, and these masses, already more compact, denser, and closer together, would soon form an impenetrable mass. The forward made its way with great difficulty amidst the snowstorms. However, with the mobility that characterizes the climate of these regions, the sun appeared from time to time. The temperature went up several degrees, obstacles melted, as if by magic, and a fine sheet of water lay where icebergs bristled all the passes. The horizon glowed with those magnificent orange shades, which rest the eye, tired with the eternal white of the snow. On the 26th of July the forward passed Dundas Island, and veered afterwards more to the north. But there Hatteras found himself opposite an ice bank, eight or nine feet high, formed of little icebergs detached from the coast. He was obliged to turn west. The uninterrupted cracking of the ice, added to the noise of the steamer, was like sighs or groans. At last the brig found a channel. And advanced painfully along it. Often an enormous iceberg hindered her course for hours. The fog hindered the pilot's lookout. As long as he can see for a mile in front of him, he can easily avoid obstacles. But in the midst of the fog it was often impossible to see a cable's length, and the swell was very strong. Sometimes the clouds looked smooth and white as though they were reflections of the ice banks. But there were entire days when the yellow rays of the sun could not pierce the tenacious fog. Birds were still very numerous, and their cries were deafening. Seals, lying idle on the floating ice, raised their heads, very little frightened, and moved their long necks as the brig passed. Pieces from the ships sheathing were often rubbed off in her contact with the ice. At last, after six days of slow navigation, Point Beecher was sighted to the north on the first of August. Hatteras passed the last few hours at his mast-head. The open sea that Stewart had perceived on May 30th, 1851, about latitude seventy-six degrees, twenty minutes, could not be far off. But as far as the eye could reach, Hatteras saw no indication of it. He came down without saying a word. "'Do you believe in an open sea?' asked Shandon of the Lieutenant. "'I'm beginning not to,' answered Wall. "'Wasn't I right to say the pretended discovery was purely imagination? But they would not believe me, and even you were against me, Wall. We shall believe in you for the future, Shandon.' Yes, said he, when it's too late. And so saying, he went back to his cabin, where he had stopped almost ever since his dispute with the captain. The wind veered round south towards evening. Hatteras ordered the brig to be put under sail, and the fires to be put out. The crew had to work very hard for the next few days. They were more than a week getting to Barrow Point. The forward had only made thirty miles in ten days. There the wind turned north again, and the screw was set to work. Hatteras still hoped to find an open sea beyond the seventy-seventh parallel, as Sir Edward Belcher had done. Aught he to treat these accounts as apocryphal, or had the winter come upon him earlier? On the fifteenth of August Mount Percy raised its peak, covered with eternal snow, through the mist. The next day the sun set for the first time, ending thus the long series of days with twenty-four hours in them. The men had ended by getting accustomed to the continual daylight, but it had never made any difference to the animals. The Greenland dogs went to their rest at their accustomed hour, and Dick slept as regularly every evening as though darkness had covered the sky. Still, during the nights which followed the fifteenth of August, darkness was never profound. Although the sun set, he still gave sufficient light by refraction. On the nineteenth of August, after a pretty good observation, they sighted Cape Franklin on the east coast, and Cape Lady Franklin on the west coast. The gratitude of the English people had given these names to the two opposite points. Probably the last reached by Franklin. The name of the devoted wife, opposite to that of her husband, is a touching emblem of the sympathy which always united them. The doctor, by following Johnson's advice, accustomed himself to support the low temperature. He almost always stayed on deck, braving the cold, the wind, and the snow. He got rather thinner, but his constitution did not suffer. Besides, he expected to be much worse off, and joyfully prepared for the approaching winter. Look at those birds, he said to Johnson one day. They are emigrating south in flocks. They are shrieking at their goodbyes. Yes, Mr. Colaboni, some instinct tells them they must go, and they set out. There's more than one amongst us who would like to imitate them, I think. They are cowards, Mr. Colaboni. Those animals have no provisions as we have, and are obliged to seek their food where it is to be found, but sailors, with a good ship under their feet, ought to go to the world's end. You hope that Hatteras will succeed, then? He certainly will, Mr. Colaboni. I'm of the same opinion as you, Johnson, and if he only wanted one faithful companion, he'll have two. Yes, Johnson answered the doctor, shaking hands with the brave sailor. Prince Albert Land, which the forward was then coasting, bears also the name of Grinnell Land, and though Hatteras, from his hatred to the Yankees, would never call it by its American name, it is the one it generally goes by. It owes its double appellation to the following circumstances, at the same time that Penny, an Englishman, gave it the name of Prince Albert, Lieutenant Haven, commander of the rescue, called it Grinnell Land, in honor of the American merchant who had fitted out the expedition from New York at his own expense. Whilst the brig was coasting it, she experienced a series of unheard of difficulties, navigating sometimes under sail, sometimes by steam. On the eighteenth of August they sighted Britannia Mountain, scarcely visible through the mist, and the forward weighed anchor the next day in Northumberland Bay. She was hemmed in on all sides.