Arctic Adventures

Our friends had another kind of boat which they called an “oomiak.” It was straight-sided, flat, and square-ended. The framework was made of whalebone and covered over with seal-skin, almost transparent. It was three feet deep, about twenty-five long, and eight wide. It was propelled by two paddles, while an old man sat with another paddle in the stern to steer. On seeing this primitive sort of boat, the idea struck us that by its means we might be conveyed southward. We tried by every means in our power to induce our friends either to lend us one or to go with us.

We had already promised them our rifles, the value of which was greatly increased now that they had seen their power. They had also taken a great fancy to Bruno, and they at length gave us to understand that, if we would make him over to them and give them a couple more rifles with powder and shot, they would convey us as far as we wished to go.

We were sorry to have to part with Bruno, but, at the same time, we were convinced that he would be perfectly happy and well-fed in the realms of snow, where he might revel to his heart’s delight.

We accordingly started the next morning with two men to paddle, and a third to steer. The boat was also fitted with a very short mast, stepped in the fore-part, and a sail composed of the intestines of the walrus split open so as to form strips about four inches wide. These strips were sewn together, and thus made a sail of great strength and lightness. When the wind was favourable we were able to hoist it, and it drove the oomiak along at a far greater speed than I should have supposed possible.

The people allowed us to take our rifles, having no doubt, apparently, that we would give them up at the end of the voyage. The whole tribe stood ready on the ice to see us off, and vociferously uttered their farewells, which we returned in like manner.

The weather was remarkably fine, and, although icebergs and floes innumerable covered the surface of the water, we had no difficulty in making our way between them. When one floe approached another, we with ease jumped out and carried our light boat beyond the power of our assailant. As we proceeded the floes became fewer and fewer, and we made more rapid progress. At night we either landed on the shore or on a fixed floe, and, creeping under the oomiak, slept on our bear-skins.

We harpooned a couple of seals and shot a bear, which afforded us abundance of food. We were standing along the shore one evening when, under a cliff, what was our astonishment to see a light. The Esquimaux were inclined to avoid the place; for, pulling away, evidently alarmed, they assured us that the spot would not afford comfortable camping-ground.

We, however, were anxious to ascertain by what the light was produced, feeling certain that some person must be on the shore who was making a signal. At last we persuaded them to turn the boat’s head towards the beach.

As we approached, what was our astonishment to see a man standing at the mouth of a cave, and holding a torch which, in his eagerness, as we drew near, he flung into the air.

“Who are you?” shouted Ewen.

“An Englishman,” was the answer.

We quickly leaped on the beach, and the stranger, advancing to meet us, stretched out his hands.

“Thank Heaven you have come, for I was very near perishing,” he exclaimed. “My powder and shot were expended, and I had consumed the last remnant of the meat of the last deer I had killed.”

I replied that we had sailed in the Hardy Norseman, that she had been lost on the ice, and that we had been separated from our companions.

“Why, that ship belonged to Dundee, the port I sailed from in the Barentz.”

“Are you, then, her surgeon, David Ogilvy?” I asked in a trembling voice.

“I am,” he answered.

“Then I am your younger brother,” was my reply, and we threw ourselves into each other’s arms.

After recovering ourselves, I introduced Ewen, when my brother invited him and the Esquimaux into his cavern. Though the entrance was small, the interior was of considerable size, and had been made habitable by means of skins and the wreck of the very sloop in which he had escaped. Most of her crew, he told us, had left her in search of walruses, when a storm arose, and she was driven among the ice on to the coast, the remainder of his people perishing. He had providentially been able to save two rifles and all the ammunition on board, together with the larger part of her provisions. After finding shelter in the cavern, he had discovered a path which led to the heights above. From thence he had been able to make excursions into the interior, where he found reindeer and musk-oxen in considerable numbers, together with mosses and several herbs, with the qualities of which being acquainted he was able to vary his food.

The next morning we loaded the oomiak with as many of the skins as she could carry, and proceeded on our voyage. To our disappointment we found our further progress stopped by a large field of ice, which had been driven against the shore or had remained fixed to it since the winter. We must either cross it – and it might extend for several miles, besides being covered with hummocks – or we must paddle out seawards and try to get round it. The latter proceeding did not appear to suit the ideas of the Esquimaux. Rather than be delayed, however, they consented to make the attempt, as we persuaded them that a passage might be found further out. After we had gone a short distance, on looking seaward, great was our astonishment to catch sight of a flag. Presently afterwards we saw some dark dots on the floe, which had apparently come in contact with the field of ice at present impeding our progress.

“Can it be possible that those are our shipmates?” exclaimed Ewen.

“I have no doubt about it,” I answered. “I see three persons; perhaps they are Sandy, Croil, and Hans. I trust that the poor fellows have escaped.”

To make sure I fired off my rifle, when the shot was replied to, though the sound but faintly struck our ears. The Esquimaux had now not the slightest hesitation of paddling out.

As we drew nearer other figures appeared who came to the edge of the floe. Among them was my brother Andrew.

“It is our crew. The whole have escaped then,” exclaimed Ewen, as we made him out.

To our infinite satisfaction, Sandy himself was the next person we distinguished, and several others who had seen the oomiak came hurrying across the ice.

I have not time to describe the meeting of us three brothers, thus so wonderfully preserved and reunited. Sandy had come upon the floe while for a short time it remained fixed to the land-ice, and had arranged to return the next morning to rescue us, when, to his dismay, he found that it was in motion, and that any communication with the land was impossible. The boats, being damaged, were unfit at present to be launched, but the carpenters were very busily employed in repairing them. It was the captain’s intention to land as soon as they could get opposite the settlement of Friedrichsthal, should the floe hold together so long, or, should its disruption be threatened, to make the voyage in the boats. We, of course, were willing to share the fortunes of our friends.

On returning to the oomiak we bestowed the rifles and ammunition we had promised on the honest Esquimaux, to which we added several other articles of a sort they valued.

David, Ewen, and I were cordially welcomed by the captain, Sandy, and the rest of the crew, who appeared to have suffered little from their long exposure on the floe. The wreck of the Hardy Norseman, however, had broken off and gone to the bottom. We had now the boats alone to depend upon. Scarcely had the Esquimaux taken their departure and paddled away than the floe began to move. As it did so I could not help seeing our perilous position, for at any moment it might drive against a berg, which might topple over and crush us. The wind, too, which had until now been favourable, changed, and there appeared great probability of our being again driven northward. Two days had thus passed, when the look-out, who was stationed at a flag-staff on the top of a hummock, shouted, “A sail, a sail!”

All hands quickly joined him, when we beheld the joyful sight of a ship standing towards us, some way to the southward. She could not possibly fail, we thought, to see our flag. We were not mistaken. On she came. As if to hasten her progress, some of us fired off our guns, others shouted. Several of the men danced and clapped their hands, and others wept and rushed into each other’s arms. Then, as the ship approached and began to shorten sail, we ran down to the side of the floe on which she was approaching, and waved our caps and cheered. As the floe was steady, she glided up alongside, and threw her ice-anchors on to it.

“She’s the Barentz!” exclaimed David, “though her appearance has changed greatly for the better since I last saw her.”

The Barentz she was. Having been refitted, she had been the first ship to sail from Dundee in search of us, her captain calculating that, having escaped with our lives, we should be found not far off from the spot where providentially he had fallen in with us.

The remaining stores and skins, together with those belonging to my brother, and everything of value, were quickly hoisted on board, and the Barentz, having already caught several whales, before long obtained a full ship. Her head was then turned southward, and, after all our wonderful adventures and hairbreadth escapes, we reached in safety the port of Dundee.

The End.