We will now bid farewell to winter, for with returning summer comes the
open sea, and the vessels leave their wintry bed. This, however, is
attended with much difficulty and danger. Canals have to be cut in the
ice, through which to lead the ships to a less obstructed ocean; and,
after this had been done in Sir James Ross's case, the ships were hemmed
in by a pack of ice, fifty miles in circumference, and were carried
along, utterly helpless, at the rate of eight or ten miles daily, for
upwards of 250 miles--the navigators fearing the adverse winds might
drive them on the rocky coast of Baffin's Bay. At length the wind
changed, and carried them clear of ice and icebergs (detached masses of
ice, sometimes several hundred feet in height) to the open sea, and back
to their native land.
With all its dreariness, we owe much to the ice-bound Pole; to it we
are indebted for the cooling breeze and the howling tempest--the
beneficent tempest, in spite of all its desolation and woe. Evil and
good in nature are comparative: the same thing does what is called harm
in one sense, but incalculable good in another. So the tempest, that
causes the wreck, and makes widows of happy wives and orphans of joyous
children, sets in motion air that would else be stagnant, and become the
breath of pestilence and the grave.
Pages:
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316