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<h2> CHAPTER 17 </h2>
<p>We kept our course southwardly for four days after giving up the search
for Glass's islands, without meeting with any ice at all. On the
twenty-sixth, at noon, we were in latitude 63 degrees 23' S., longitude 41
degrees 25' W. We now saw several large ice islands, and a floe of field
ice, not, however, of any great extent. The winds generally blew from the
southeast, or the northeast, but were very light. Whenever we had a
westerly wind, which was seldom, it was invariably attended with a rain
squall. Every day we had more or less snow. The thermometer, on the
twenty-seventh stood at thirty-five.</p>
<p>January 1, 1828.—This day we found ourselves completely hemmed in by
the ice, and our prospects looked cheerless indeed. A strong gale blew,
during the whole forenoon, from the northeast, and drove large cakes of
the drift against the rudder and counter with such violence that we all
trembled for the consequences. Toward evening, the gale still blowing with
fury, a large field in front separated, and we were enabled, by carrying a
press of sail to force a passage through the smaller flakes into some open
water beyond. As we approached this space we took in sail by degrees, and
having at length got clear, lay-to under a single reefed foresail.</p>
<p>January 2.—We had now tolerably pleasant weather. At noon we found
ourselves in latitude 69 degrees 10' S, longitude 42 degrees 20' W, having
crossed the Antarctic circle. Very little ice was to be seen to the
southward, although large fields of it lay behind us. This day we rigged
some sounding gear, using a large iron pot capable of holding twenty
gallons, and a line of two hundred fathoms. We found the current setting
to the north, about a quarter of a mile per hour. The temperature of the
air was now about thirty-three. Here we found the variation to be 14
degrees 28' easterly, per azimuth.</p>
<p>January 5.—We had still held on to the southward without any very
great impediments. On this morning, however, being in latitude 73 degrees
15' E., longitude 42 degrees 10' W, we were again brought to a stand by an
immense expanse of firm ice. We saw, nevertheless, much open water to the
southward, and felt no doubt of being able to reach it eventually.
Standing to the eastward along the edge of the floe, we at length came to
a passage of about a mile in width, through which we warped our way by
sundown. The sea in which we now were was thickly covered with ice
islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as before. The cold
did not seem to increase, although we had snow very frequently, and now
and then hail squalls of great violence. Immense flocks of the albatross
flew over the schooner this day, going from southeast to northwest.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>January 10.—Early this morning we had the misfortune to lose a man
overboard. He was an American named Peter Vredenburgh, a native of New
York, and was one of the most valuable hands on board the schooner. In
going over the bows his foot slipped, and he fell between two cakes of
ice, never rising again. At noon of this day we were in latitude 78
degrees 30', longitude 40 degrees 15' W. The cold was now excessive, and
we had hail squalls continually from the northward and eastward. In this
direction also we saw several more immense icebergs, and the whole horizon
to the eastward appeared to be blocked up with field ice, rising in tiers,
one mass above the other. Some driftwood floated by during the evening,
and a great quantity of birds flew over, among which were nellies,
peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird of a brilliant blue plumage. The
variation here, per azimuth, was less than it had been previously to our
passing the Antarctic circle.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 thirtyfour. We
now sailed to the southward without meeting any interruption of moment
until the sixteenth, when, at noon, we were in latitude 81 degrees 21',
longitude 42 degrees W. We here again sounded, and found a current setting
still southwardly, and at the rate of three quarters of a mile per hour.
The variation per azimuth had diminished, and the temperature of the air
was mild and pleasant, the thermometer being as high as fifty-one. At this
period not a particle of ice was to be discovered. All hands on board now
felt certain of attaining the pole.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>It did not take us long to explore every portion of the island, but, with
one exception, we found nothing worthy of our observation. In the southern
extremity, we picked up near the shore, half buried in a pile of loose
stones, a piece of wood, which seemed to have formed the prow of a canoe.
There had been evidently some attempt at carving upon it, and Captain Guy
fancied that he made out the figure of a tortoise, but the resemblance did
not strike me very forcibly. Besides this prow, if such it were, we found
no other token that any living creature had ever been here before. Around
the coast we discovered occasional small floes of ice—but these were
very few. The exact situation of the islet (to which Captain Guy gave the
name of Bennet's Islet, in honour of his partner in the ownership of the
schooner) is 82 degrees 50' S. latitude, 42 degrees 20' W. longitude.</p>
<p>We had now advanced to the southward more than eight degrees farther than
any previous navigators, and the sea still lay perfectly open before us.
We found, too, that the variation uniformly decreased as we proceeded,
and, what was still more surprising, that the temperature of the air, and
latterly of the water, became milder. The weather might even be called
pleasant, and we had a steady but very gentle breeze always from some
northern point of the compass. The sky was usually clear, with now and
then a slight appearance of thin vapour in the southern horizon—this,
however, was invariably of brief duration. Two difficulties alone
presented themselves to our view; we were getting short of fuel, and
symptoms of scurvy had occurred among several of the crew. These
considerations began to impress upon Captain Guy the necessity of
returning, and he spoke of it frequently. For my own part, confident as I
was of soon arriving at land of some description upon the course we were
pursuing, and having every reason to believe, from present appearances,
that we should not find it the sterile soil met with in the higher Arctic
latitudes, I warmly pressed upon him the expediency of persevering, at
least for a few days longer, in the direction we were now holding. So
tempting an opportunity of solving the great problem in regard to an
Antarctic continent had never yet been afforded to man, and I confess that
I felt myself bursting with indignation at the timid and ill-timed
suggestions of our commander. I believe, indeed, that what I could not
refrain from saying to him on this head had the effect of inducing him to
push on. While, therefore, I cannot but lament the most unfortunate and
bloody events which immediately arose from my advice, I must still be
allowed to feel some degree of gratification at having been instrumental,
however remotely, in opening to the eye of science one of the most
intensely exciting secrets which has ever engrossed its attention.</p>
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