They
"Digged Him Clear Out, And He Was As Free From Noisomeness," The
Record Says, "As When We First Committed Him To The Sea.
This
alteration had the ice, and water, and time, only wrought on him,
that his flesh would slip up and down upon his bones, like a glove
on a man's hand.
In the evening we buried him by the others."
These worthy souls, laid up with the agonies of scurvy, knew that in
action was their only hope; they forced their limbs to labour, among
ice and water, every day. They set about the building of a boat,
but the hard frozen wood had broken their axes, so they made shift
with the pieces. To fell a tree, it was first requisite to light in
fire around it, and the carpenter could only labour with his wood
over a fire, or else it was like stone under his tools. Before the
boat was made they buried the carpenter. The captain exhorted them
to put their trust in God; "His will be done. If it be our fortune
to end our days here, we are as near Heaven as in England. They all
protested to work to the utmost of their strength, and that they
would refuse nothing that I should order them to do to the utmost
hazard of their lives. I thanked them all." Truly the North Pole
has its triumphs. If we took no account of the fields of trade
opened by our Arctic explorers, if we thought nothing of the wants
of science in comparison with the lives lost in supplying them, is
not the loss of life a gain, which proves and tests the fortitude of
noble hearts, and teaches us respect for human nature? All the
lives that have been lost among these Polar regions are less in
number than the dead upon a battle-field. The battle-field
inflicted shame upon our race - is it with shame that our hearts
throb in following these Arctic heroes? March 31st, says Captain
James, "was very cold, with snow and hail, which pinched our sick
men more than any time this year. This evening, being May eve, we
returned late from our work to our house, and made a good fire, and
chose ladies, and ceremoniously wore their names in our caps,
endeavouring to revive ourselves by any means. On the 15th, I
manured a little patch of ground that was bare of snow, and sowed it
with pease, hoping to have some shortly to eat, for as yet we could
see no green thing to comfort us." Those pease saved the party; as
they came up the young shoots were boiled and eaten, so their health
began to mend, and they recovered from their scurvy. Eventually,
after other perils, they succeeded in making their escape.
A strait, called Sir Thomas Rowe's Welcome, leads due north out of
Hudson Bay, being parted by Southampton Island from the strait
through which we entered. Its name is quaint, for so was its
discoverer, Luke Fox, a worthy man, addicted much to euphuism.
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