Now the ice began to crush together, driven by wind
and tide with furious enough force to snap the two ships like
egg-shells. Radisson watched for a free passage, and, with a wind to
rear, scudded for shelter of a hole-in-the-wall. Here he met the
Eskimo, and provisions were replenished; but the dangers of the
ice-fields had frightened the crews again. In two days Radisson put to
sea to avoid a second mutiny. The wind was landward, driving the ice
back from the straits, and they passed safely into Hudson Bay. The ice
again surrounded them; but it was useless for the men to mutiny. Ice
blocked up all retreat. Jammed among the floes, Groseillers was afraid
to carry sail, and fell behind. Radisson drove ahead, now skirting the
ice-floes, now pounded by breaking icebergs, now crashing into surface
brash or puddled ice to the fore. "We were like to have perished," he
writes, "but God was pleased to preserve us."
On the 26th of August, six weeks after sailing from Isle Percee,
Radisson rode triumphantly in on the tide to Hayes River, south of
Nelson River, where he had been with the English ships ten years
before. Two weeks later the _Ste. Anne_, with Groseillers, arrived.
The two ships cautiously ascended the river, seeking a harbor. Fifteen
miles from salt water, Radisson anchored. At last he was back in his
native element, the wilderness, where man must set himself to conquer
and take dominion over earth.
Groseillers was always the trader, Radisson the explorer.
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