19131 NORTHWARD HO! 15 



pass variation very uncertain. Out of the thick fog, 

 dead ahead and apparently only a few yards distant, 

 loomed a gigantic berg, its great bulk threatening in- 

 stant destruction. The quick eye and the prompt 

 action of Chief-engineer Grossman, who happened to 

 be on the bridge, averted a catastrophe. A whirl of 

 the wheel hard over and a clanging of bells in the en- 

 gine-room filled up those few long seconds as the great 

 black shadow crept past our port quarter and dissolved 

 into white mist behind us. With the darkening of the 

 gray curtain into the silhouettes of numberless bergs, 

 through which we cautiously wound at a snail's pace, I 

 recognized our position as the "Bergy Hole" of the 

 Dundee whalers who have bravely thrown their wooden 

 ships into the crushing, grinding ice of Melville Bay for 

 a century. 



Each year witnessed the return of these magnificent 

 fellows in their sturdy bluff-bowed ships, saw them fold 

 their wings at the edge of the ice in June, and begin 

 that long struggle toward the north water, 170 miles 

 distant. The thrill of the whole thing! Here was the 

 battle-field of a century! A battle against the titanic 

 forces of nature, where man matches his strength, his 

 ingenuity, his wit, his brains, against violent winds, 

 blinding, drifting snows, biting cold, and the crushing 

 strength of untold millions of tons of ice. A blue ribbon 

 of water leading northward through a limitless field of 

 glittering whiteness, the ringing command of officers, 

 the singing of the tracking men, the long line of yarded 

 ships, the pursuit of polar bears, the crack of rifles, the 

 cheery cry from ship to ship, the friendly rivalry as one 

 ship forged ahead and took the lead! 



Ice conditions in Melville Bay during the so-called 



