so after this the coon, a much heavier bird, became more plentiful than the little doveky, and from this time to the middle of August, so successful and untiring were our sportsmen, that the crew received each a bird per man a day. "The account kept on board the Investigator showed the number of birds killed to have amounted to about 4000, and yielding near 2500lbs. of meat. But more than this was obtained, as many were shot by individuals for amusement, and not always noted." Mr. Goodsir, surgeon, when in the Advice whaler, on her voyage up Lancaster Sound, in the summer of 1849, speaking of landing on one of the Wollaston Islands, on the west side of Navy Board Inlet, says he disturbed about half a dozen pairs of the eider-duck (Somateria mollissima.) Their eggs he found to be within a few hours of maturity. There were, besides, numerous nests, the occupants of which had probably winged their way southward. Two brent geese, (Anser berniela,) and a single pair of arctic terns, (Sterna arctica,) were most vociferous and courageous in defense of their downy offspring wherever he approached. These were the only birds he saw, with the exception of a solitary raven, (Corvus corax,) not very high overhead, whose sharp and yet musically bell-like croak came startling upon the ear. Mr. Snow, in his account of the voyage of the Prince Albert, p. 162, says, (speaking of Melville Bay, at the northern head of Baffin's Bay,) "Innumerable quantities of birds, especially the little auk, (Alca alle,) and the doveky, (Colymbus grylle,) were now seen, (August 6th,) in every direction. They were to be ob served in thousands, on the wing and in the water, and often on pieces of ice, where they were clustered together so thick that scores might have been shot at a time by two or three fowling pieces." In passing up Lancaster Sound a fortnight later several shoal of eider-ducks and large quantities of other birds were also seen. A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. "The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around."— COLERIDGE. WHITHER Sail you, Sir John Franklin ? To know if between the land and the Pole, I charge you back, Sir John Franklin, For between the land and the frozen Pole But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, Half England is wrong, if he is right; O, whither sail you, brave Englishman? Between your land and the polar star Come down, if you would journey there, And change your cloth for fur clothing, But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, All through the long, long polar day, The vessels westward sped; And wherever the sail of Sir John was blown, The ice gave way and fled. The winter goes, the summer comes, The cruel ice came floating on, Till the thickening waters dashed no more, What think you of the whaler now! A sled were better than a ship, To cruise through ice and snow. Down sank the baleful crimson sun; And glared upon the ice-bound ships, The snow came down, storm breeding storm, And on the decks was laid; Till the weary sailor, sick at heart, Sir John, the night is black and long, The hard, green ice is strong as death : I prithee, captain, speak. The night is neither bright nor short, The singing breeze is cold, The ice is not so strong as hope, The heart of man is bold! What hope can scale this icy wall, Above the ridges the wolf and bear The summer went, the winter came- The winter went, the summer went, The winter came around; But the hard, green ice was strong as death, And the voice of hope sank to a breath, Yet caught at every sound. Hark! heard you not the sound of guns? And there, and there again? 'T is some uneasy iceberg's roar, As he turns in the frozen main. Hurra! hurra! the Esquimaux God give them grace for their charity! Sir John, where are the English fields, And where are the little English flowers, Be still, be still, my brave sailors! You shall see the fields again, And smell the scent of the opening flowers, The grass, and the waving grain. Oh! when shall I see my orphan child? My Mary waits for me; Oh! when shall I see my old mother, Be still, be still, my brave sailors! Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold, More settled stare the wolf and bear, Oh! think you, good Sir John Franklin, "T was cruel to send us here to starve, 'T was cruel, Sir John, to send us here, To starve and freeze on this lonely sea; Oh! whether we starve to death alone, We have done what man has never done- We passed the Northern Sea! |