File:A voyage to the arctic in the whaler Aurora (1911) (14597371630).jpg

Identifier: voyagetoarctici00lind (find matches)
Title: A voyage to the arctic in the whaler Aurora
Year: 1911 (1910s)
Authors: Lindsay, David Moore, 1862-
Subjects: Aurora (Ship) Whaling
Publisher: Boston : Dana Estes & Co.
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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and with a feeling of self-respectwent on deck. The day was cloudless and beau-tiful, the sea smooth as glass, and dotted over itwere white specks of ice. In a very short time thepieces of ice became more numerous and larger,and when we were at breakfast we heard and feltthe ship crushing and bumping amongst them.By eleven A. M. a breeze came up from the south-east and all sail was set, but by noon the ship stuckhard and fast in the ice, and presented to me awonderful and beautiful sight. Every stitch of canvas was set and drawing,and the engine going full speed, but still for a timewe did not move. Now was my chance to walkabout on the frozen sea, so I went out with thedog and we both enjoyed a race, keeping veryclose, however, for at any moment the Auroramight move. We came on board when the matecalled, as a crack was appearing ahead of the ship.We were now two hundred twenty miles from St.Johns, and expected to be in ice all the way.During the afternoon I went up to the foretop and
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Copyright by Nalentine, Dundoc. Breaking through Soft Ice IN THE WHALER AURORA 29 tlioroughly enjoyed a half hour gazing at the won-derful scene. We were very seldom stuck for any length oftime, a few bumps from the ship being generallysufficient to open a crack. A great many of the men were on deck most ofthe day, and certainly she was a heavily mannedship with her crew of sixty-five. Six of them be-longed to the engine room, eight were harpooners,who lived in the topgallant forecastle, as did someof our tradesmen. Of these we had two carpenters,a cooper, blacksmith, and sailmaker. The speck-sioneer also lived there. He was the chief of theharpooners, a splendid old man called GeorgeLyon. Sixteen of our men were from Shetland,a quiet, sober, industrious lot. Standing on the forecastle, I watched the shipcrunching through several miles of young ice. Shenever actually stopped once. Her bows would riseup on it, then huge slabs would tilt on end as sheglided on. Sometimes a long crack wo

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