THE FRIENDLY ARCTIC 43 



In this everything went according to expectations. After a few 

 hours of northwestward drift, the ice "slackened out" and we were 

 able to advance under our own power. The Karluk took an east- 

 erly course and proceeded along the land,, keeping six to ten miles 

 from the shore, without adventure, until we got east beyond Cape 

 Halkett. There was scattered ice everywhere, but none to interfere 

 seriously with progress. 



In crossing Harrison Bay east of Cape Halkett we had a small 

 adventure. Among the local whalers who have been in these waters 

 since 1889 there is a custom of "sailing by the lead." They know 

 on every part of the coast how near it is safe to approach, as indi- 

 cated by the soundings which are taken continuously by a man 

 stationed at the lead. But our officers were new in these seas, 

 and were deceived by navigation signs upon which they relied. 

 They had not previously sailed in icy waters except such as have 

 a change of levels due to tides. In most parts of the north Atlantic 

 seaboard a cake of ice that is aground in shallow water has a 

 peculiar mushroom-like appearance, for high tide is only a matter 

 of an hour or two, and at all other times these cakes are lying 

 aground with the water around them much lower than it has 

 been at the moment of high tide. In such places an experienced 

 navigator can tell by glancing at a cake of ice whether it is afloat 

 or aground, and if it is afloat he always knows that his ship has 

 plenty of water under her keel. But here in Harrison Bay even 

 the grounded cakes presented an appearance of being afloat, for 

 there had been no rise or fall of tide to give them undercut edges 

 of the kind found in the east. 



I had not been on deck for some time, for no difficulties of navi- 

 gation had presented themselves, but when I did go on deck I 

 could see from the bridge an island almost directly ahead. To 

 any one of local experience this was a sign of imminent danger. 

 I asked the man at the lead, who was supposed to take a sounding 

 every fifteen minutes, what depth of water we had and he replied 

 nine fathoms. I knew this could not be true, for no island would 

 be visible from the bridge in Harrison Bay if the water were nine 

 fathoms. I realized that the man, thinking actual sounding unnec- 

 essary, was merely pretending to sound. Accordingly I asked Cap- 

 tain Bartlett to come on deck, but before he had time to quite get 

 his bearings, the oceanographer, Murray, came running to us with 

 considerable excitement, saying the ship was aground and had 

 stopped moving. 



The going aground of a ship under steam, even though it is 



