# Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI THE GREAT POLAR CURRENT
Before long, the numerous flights of birds—puffins, petrels, and others peculiar to these desolate shores—indicated that they were approaching Greenland. The Forward was steaming rapidly north, leaving leeward a long cloud of black smoke.
On Tuesday, the 17th of April, the ice-master signaled the blink of ice about twenty miles ahead, at least. A radiant band of dazzling whiteness lighted up all the surrounding atmosphere, in spite of somewhat heavy clouds. Experienced Arctic sailors cannot mistake this appearance; and the old hands on board at once pronounced it to be the ​luminous reflection from a field of ice about thirty miles in the distance.
Towards evening the wind fell south, and became so favorable that Shandon was able to dispense with steam, and depend once more on the sails.
On the 18th, at three o'clock, an ice-stream was discovered in the far horizon, making a broad shining white line between sea and sky. It was evidently drifting more from the east coast of Greenland than from Davis's Straits; and about an hour afterwards the brig encountered it, and sailed right through the loose floating masses.
On the morrow, at daybreak, a ship was descried, which proved to be the Valkyrien, a Danish corvette, going to Newfoundland. The current from the Straits began to be sensibly felt, and Shandon was obliged to crowd sail to get on at all.
He was standing on the poop with his two officers and the Doctor, examining the force and the direction of the current, when the Doctor asked if it was true that this same current was uniformly found in Baffin's Bay.
"Undoubtedly that's the case," replied Shandon; "and sailing vessels have great difficulty in making head against it."
"All the more," said James Wall, "as they fall in with it, both on the east side of America, and on the west side of Greenland."
"Well, then," said the Doctor, "that is quite an argument in favor of a North-West passage. This current travels at the rate of about five miles an hour, and one can hardly suppose it has its origin in the bottom of the bay."
"Here is another fact to confirm your reasoning. This current goes from north to south; but in Behring's Straits there is a contrary current going from south to north, which must be the origin of this."
"That certainly proves that America is completely detached from the Polar regions, and that the waters of the Pacific flow round its coast, and fall into the Atlantic. Besides, the superior elevation of the Pacific makes it all the more likely that the European seas would be fed by its waters."
"But, surely," said Shandon, "there must be same facts ​to support this theory. Hasn't our learned Doctor any to tell us?" he added, half ironically.
"Oh, yes!" said Clawbonny, with a good-humored air of complacency, "I could tell you this, which may interest you, that whales which have been wounded in Davis's Straits have been captured subsequently on the coast of Tartary with the European harpoon still sticking in their sides."
"And since they have neither doubled Cape Horn nor the Cape of Good Hope, they must have got round North America. That is proof positive, Doctor."
"If you're not convinced yet, my good Shandon, I can bring forward other facts, such as the drift-wood which so abounds in Davis's Straits—larches, and aspens, and tropical substances. Now, we know that this South current would prevent this drift-wood from entering; if it comes out there, it must have got in by Behring's Straits, for there is no other way."
"I am quite satisfied, Doctor; one couldn't be long incredulous with you."
"Look out!" exclaimed Johnson; "here comes something quite à propos to our conversation. I see a jolly-sized log of wood floating there, and I propose we fish it up, with our chief officer's leave, and ask what country it comes from."
Shandon agreed, and soon after the log was hauled up on board, though with considerable difficulty. It was a trunk of mahogany, worm-eaten to the very center, which accounted for its floating.
"Here's a triumphant proof," exclaimed the Doctor, enthusiastically. "Since it cannot have been carried into Davis's Straits by the Atlantic currents, and since it cannot have been driven into the Polar basin by any of the North American rivers, seeing that it grew just below the Equator, it is evident it comes in a direct line from Behring's Straits. Besides, look at the worms. They belong to a species peculiar to the tropics. Listen, I'll tell you the whole history of this log. It was carried into the Pacific Ocean by some river, from the Isthmus of Panama or Guatemala. From thence it was borne along by the current into Behring's Straits, and driven out into the Polar Sea. I should assign rather a recent date to its departure, for it is neither old ​enough nor soaked enough to have been long on the road. After getting through Baffin's Bay, past that long succession of straits, it was violently caught up by the Polar current, and brought through Davis's Straits, to take its place on board the Forward, for the special delectation of Dr. Clawbonny, who now craves permission to keep a piece of it as a specimen."
"By all means," said Shandon; "but allow me to tell you that you are not the only possessor of a waif like this. The Danish governor of the Isle of Disko, on the coast of Greenland———"
"I know," said the Doctor. "He has a table made of a trunk picked up in similar circumstances. I know all about it, Shandon; but I don't envy him his table for there is enough there to make me a whole bed-room suite, if it were worth the trouble."
During the night the wind blew with extreme violence, and the drift-wood became more frequently visible. It was a time of the year when any aproach to the shore would be dangerous, as the icebergs are very numerous. Shandon therefore gave orders to lessen sail, and take in all that was not absolutely necessary.
The next business was to give out warm clothing for the crew, as the thermometer went down below freezing point. Each man received a woolen jacket and trousers, a flannel shirt, and wadmel stockings, like those worn by the Norwegian peasants. Each man was also provided with a pair of perfectly waterproof sea-boots.
As for "Captain," he was quite contented with his natural covering. He did not seem to feel the change of temperature, and, likely enough, had been accustomed to it before. Moreover, a born Dane can hardly complain of cold; and "Captain " was wise enough not to expose himself much; he was seldom visible, generally stowing himself away in the darkest recesses of the ship.
Towards evening, through a rift in the fog, the coast of Greenland was indistinctly visible—the Doctor just caught a glimpse through the glass, of peaks and glaciers, and then the fog closed over it again, like the curtain falling at the theater at the most interesting part of the play.
On the 20th of April the Forward sighted a fallen iceberg, a hundred and fifty feet high. It had been in the ​same place from time immemorial, and had become firmly fixed below; as, for every foot above water, an iceberg has nearly two below, which reckoning would give this a depth of about eighty fathoms. No thaw seemed to have affected it, or touched its strange outlines. It was seen by Snow; by James Ross, in 1829, who made an exact drawing of it; and by Lieutenant Bellot, in 1851. The Doctor, of course, was anxious to carry away some souvenir of an ice mountain so celebrated, and succeeded in sketching it very successfully.
At last Cape Farewell came in sight, and the Forward arrived on the day fixed, amidst snow and fog, with the temperature at 12°. If the unknown captain should chance to turn up here, he certainly could not complain.
"Here we are, then," said the Doctor, "at this famous cape! Well named it is, for many have reached it like us who never saw it more. Do we, indeed, say farewell to our friends in Europe? Frobisher, Knight, Barlow, Vaughan, Scroggs, Barentz, Hudson, Blosseville, Franklin, Crozier, Bellot—all passed this way, never to return! For them it was indeed a Cape Farewell."
All the past history of Greenland rose up to memory, as the Doctor stood gazing dreamily over the side of the ship, watching the deep furrow she made in plowing the waves, and imagination peopled the icy, desolate shore with pale shadows of the many bold adventurers who had found a grave and winding sheet in the snow.
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