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Title: Our Arctic province
Alaska and the Seal Islands
Author: Henry Wood Elliott
Release Date: March 25, 2023 [eBook #70373]
Language: English
Produced by: Bob Taylor, Peter Becker and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR ARCTIC PROVINCE ***
Transcriber’s Note
Italic text displayed as: _italic_
ARCTIC EXPLORATION
[Illustration: SAILING THE ARCTIC SEAS]
ARCTIC
EXPLORATION
BY
J. DOUGLAS HOARE
WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS AND FOUR MAPS
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & CO.
1906
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. EARLY VOYAGES 1
II. FROM HUDSON TO PHIPPS AND NELSON 17
III. THE VOYAGE OF BUCHAN AND FRANKLIN 30
IV. ROSS’S FAILURES AND PARRY’S SUCCESSES 35
V. FRANKLIN’S FIRST OVERLAND JOURNEY 45
VI. PARRY’S LAST NORTH-WEST VOYAGES 64
VII. FRANKLIN’S SECOND LAND JOURNEY 70
VIII. PARRY’S NORTH-POLAR VOYAGE 79
IX. ROSS’S ADVENTURES IN THE “VICTORY” 86
X. BACK’S TWO JOURNEYS 95
XI. THE DISCOVERIES OF DEASE AND SIMPSON 102
XII. FRANKLIN’S LAST VOYAGE 116
XIII. RAE AND THE BOOTHIA PENINSULA 122
XIV. THE FRANKLIN SEARCH BEGUN 129
XV. THE VOYAGES OF COLLINSON AND M’CLURE 137
XVI. BELCHER AND THE FRANKLIN SEARCH 150
XVII. RAE’S JOURNEYS OF 1851-53 159
XVIII. M’CLINTOCK AND THE “FOX” 168
XIX. THE VOYAGES OF KANE AND HAYES 182
XX. HALL AND THE “POLARIS” 192
XXI. THE “GERMANIA” AND THE “HANSA” 200
XXII. THE VOYAGE OF THE “TEGETTHOFF” 207
XXIII. NARES AND SMITH SOUND 215
XXIV. THE GREELY TRAGEDY 223
XXV. NORDENSKIÖLD AND HIS WORK 235
XXVI. THE STORY OF THE “JEANNETTE” 244
XXVII. LEIGH SMITH AND THE “EIRA” 252
XXVIII. GREENLAND AND THE EARLIER JOURNEYS OF NANSEN AND PEARY 257
XXIX. THE JACKSON-HARMSWORTH EXPEDITION 270
XXX. NANSEN AND THE “FRAM” 278
XXXI. CONWAY AND ANDRÉE 287
XXXII. THE LATER VOYAGES OF SVERDRUP AND PEARY 293
XXXIII. OTHER RECENT EXPEDITIONS—ABRUZZI, WELLMANN, AND TOLL 301
INDEX 309
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
SAILING THE ARCTIC SEAS _Frontispiece_
From an old print
AN OLD MAP OF THE POLAR REGIONS 1
From “Narborough’s Voyages,” 1694
STRANDED ON NOVA ZEMBLA 13
From an old print
THE “RACEHORSE” AND THE “CARCASE” IN THE ICE 28
From a picture by J. Clively
CUTTING A PASSAGE INTO WINTER HARBOUR 42
From a sketch by Lieut. Beechey
CROSSING THE BARREN GROUNDS 56
From a drawing by Capt. Back
THE WALRUS AS SEEN BY OLAUS MAGNUS 68
THE DISRUPTION OF THE ICE ROUND THE “TERROR” 100
From a drawing by Capt. Smyth
BOATS AMONG THE ICE 134
From a drawing by Capt. Back
FAST IN THE ICE 154
From a sketch by Lieut. Beechey
THE FRANKLIN RECORD 174
ESKIMO ARCHITECTS 192
From a drawing by Capt. Lyon
A BEAR HUNT 212
From an old print
ESKIMOS SLEDGING 248
From a drawing by Capt. Lyon
PEARY’S TRAVELLING EQUIPMENT 266
By kind permission of Messrs F. A. Stokes Co.
THE MEETING BETWEEN JACKSON AND NANSEN 274
By kind permission of Capt. Jackson and Messrs
Harper Bros.
MAP OF FRANZ JOSEF LAND 277
MAP OF SPITZBERGEN 286
IN THE SLUSH 288
By kind permission of Sir Martin Conway and Messrs
J. M. Dent & Co.
ANDRÉE’S BALLOON IN ITS SHED 292
From a photograph
THE “POLAR STAR” UNDER ICE PRESSURE 304
By kind permission of Messrs Hutchinson & Co.
CHART OF THE NORTH POLAR REGIONS _Attend_
ARCTIC EXPLORATION
CHAPTER I
EARLY VOYAGES
The story of the first few centuries of Arctic exploration can, of
course, never be written. The early Norsemen, to whom must go the
credit for most of the first discoveries, were a piratical race, and
their many voyages were conducted, for the most part, in a strictly
business-like spirit. Occasionally one of them would happen on a new
country by accident, just as Naddod the Viking happened upon Iceland
in 861 by being driven there by a gale while on his way to the Faroe
Islands. Occasionally a curious adventurer would follow in the
footsteps of one of these early discoverers, but no serious attempt
was made to widen the field of knowledge thus opened up, unless the
Norsemen saw their way to entering upon commercial relations with the
natives, to the great disadvantage of the latter.
[Illustration: AN OLD MAP OF THE POLAR REGIONS
FROM NARBOROUGH’S “VOYAGES” (1694)
_The erroneous intersection of Greenland by Frobisher’s Strait should
be especially noted_]
Rumours of the existence of Iceland, or Thule as it was then called,
were first brought home by Pytheas, while Irish monks are known to
have stayed there early in the ninth century, but probably the first
attempt to colonise it was made by Thorold about a hundred years
after Naddod’s visit. This worthy Viking, feeling it advisable to
leave his native land after a quarrel with a relative, during
the course of which the latter had been killed, set his course for
Iceland, and made himself a new home there. Shortly afterwards his
son Erik, who seems to have inherited his father’s taste for murder,
followed him to his new abode, and later on, when on a voyage of
adventure, set foot upon Greenland. Erik’s son, Leif, who was also
of a roving disposition, sailed far westward in 100 A.D., and landed
either on Newfoundland or at the mouth of the St Lawrence, thus
anticipating the discovery of America by Columbus by nearly five
hundred years.
It was not until the end of the fifteenth century that the first
serious attempts at Arctic exploration were made by John Cabot and
his son Sebastian. John Cabot was a Venetian, who settled at Bristol
probably about the year 1474, and to him belongs the honour of being
the first to suggest the possibility of finding a north-west passage
to India. In 1496 he received a commission from Henry VII. to sail
out for the discovery of countries and islands unknown to Christian
peoples, and though the real object of his voyage, discreetly
veiled beneath these purposely vague terms, was not attained, he
immortalised his name by the discovery of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton
Island. The history of the earlier Cabot voyages is sadly obscure,
and was rendered more so by Sebastian himself, who in his later years
seems to have claimed discoveries which properly belonged to his
father. Sebastian is unquestionably the hero of his own account of
the expedition of 1496, which is given by Hakluyt:—
“When news were brought that Don Christoval Colon (i.e. Christopher
Columbus), the Genoese, had discovered the coasts of India, whereof
was great talke in all the court of King Henry VII., who then
reigned, insomuch that all men with great admiration affirmed it to
be a thing more divine than humane to saile by the West into the East
where spices growe, by a way that was never knowen before, by this
fame and report there increased in my heart a great flame of desire
to attempt some notable thing. And understanding by reason of the
Sphere (i.e. globe) that if I should saile by way of the North-west
I should by a shorter tract come into India, I thereupon caused the
king to be advertised of my devise, who immediately commanded two
Carvels to be furnished with all things appertayning to the voyage,
which was as farre as I remember in the year 1496, in the beginning
of Sommer. I began therefore to sail toward the North-west, not
thinking to find any other land than that of Cathay and from thence
to turn toward India; but after certaine days, I found that the
land ranne towards the North, which was to me a great displeasure.
Nevertheless, sayling along by the coast to see if I could finde
any gulfe that turned, I found the lande still continent to the
58th degree under our Pole. And seeing that the coast turned toward
the East, despairing to finde the passage, I turned backe againe,
and sailed downe by the coast of that land toward the Equinoctiall
(ever with intent to finde the saide passage to India) and came to
that part of this firme lande which is nowe called Florida, where my
victuals failing, I departed from thence and returned into England,
where I found great tumults among the people, and preparation
for warres in Scotland, by reason whereof there was no more
consideration had to this voyage.”
John Cabot made a second expedition in 1498, and probably died soon
after. Sebastian, who had accompanied his father on both his American
voyages, finding the English Government little inclined to spend
money on further exploration, transferred his services to the King
of Spain, for whom he did excellent work by examining the coast of
South America. In 1548, however, he returned to England, and Edward
VI. did him the honour that was his just due, by settling on him the
sum of 500 marks (£166, 13s. 4d.) a year for life, and, according
to Hakluyt, creating him Grand Pilot. Never did a man deserve his
honours more, for, by founding the company of Merchant Adventurers,
of which he was the first governor, he did much to extend the foreign
commerce of the nation, and, by fostering a spirit of enterprise,
he paved the way for that immense success won by our sailors and
merchants during the next century.
The first purely British expedition was that of Robert Thorne, of
Bristol, at whose instigation, say Hall and Grafton, “King Henry
VIII. sent out two fair ships, well manned and victualled, having
in them divers cunning men to seek strange regions, and so they set
forth out of the Thames, on the 20th day of May, in the nineteenth
yere of his raigne, which was the yere of our Lord 1527.” The “fair
ships” had as their objective no less a place than the North Pole,
but the men do not seem to have been sufficiently “cunning” to make
much headway against the difficulties that beset their path, and the
chronicles of the time are singularly reticent concerning their
doings.
The voyage of the _Trinitie_ and _Minion_, which sailed in 1536,
is one of the most disastrous on record. The expedition was sent
out with a view to exploring North-West America, and it reached the
coast of Newfoundland in safety. It seems, however, to have been
hopelessly under-provisioned, and the men, having little to eat on
board and finding themselves unable to supplement their scanty store
on land, took to cannibalism, and would all have perished but for the
timely arrival of a French ship, which they promptly set upon and
misappropriated. We are not told what happened to the unfortunate
Frenchmen, but Henry VIII. is reported to have compensated such as
survived.
Hitherto the energies of our sailors had been principally devoted to
discovering a north-west passage to India, Cathay, and the Indies.
When, however, Cabot returned from Spain and was made “Governour
of the mysterie and companie of the marchants adventurers for the
discovery of regions, dominions, islands and places unknown,” he
promptly showed how well fitted he was for that honourable post by
suggesting that, as the voyages towards the north-west had not been
attended by much success, it would not be amiss to try a change of
tactics and to attempt to find a way to Cathay by the north-east.
The idea was taken up enthusiastically, and, as this was the first
extended maritime venture made by us in distant seas, the utmost care
was exercised over the preparations. Three ships were specially built
for the enterprise, and were fitted out in the most substantial
manner possible. The admiral of the fleet, the _Bona Esperanza_,
120 tons, was placed under the command of Sir Hugh Willoughby, and
carried thirty-five persons, who included six merchants. The _Edward
Bonaventure_, 160 tons, was commanded by Captain Richard Chancellor,
her company consisting of fifty, including two merchants; and the
_Bona Confidentia_, 90 tons, was commanded by Cornelius Durfourth,
and carried twenty-eight souls, also including two merchants. These
three ships sailed from Ratcliffe on May 20, and, after tracing the
coast of Norway, rounded the North Cape in company. Here a storm
separated the _Bonaventure_ from her sister ships, and, fortunately
for her and her company, drove her to Vardö, in Norway. Willoughby
and his two ships succeeded in making the coast of Lapland, and spent
the winter on the desolate coast of the Kola Peninsula. In those
days, unfortunately, but little was known of the art and science of
wintering in the Arctic regions, and every member of the company
perished miserably of scurvy.
Chancellor, after waiting awhile at Vardö in the hope that the rest
of the fleet would join him there, determined to push on on his own
account, and he eventually succeeded in reaching the north coast of
Russia. The intelligence of his arrival was conveyed to the Czar,
Ivan Vasilovich, who was so much interested in what he heard that he
invited him to Moscow. There Chancellor spent the winter, and with
such ardour did he forward the interests of his country, that he
laid the foundations of that great trade between England and Russia
which has flourished ever since. It is worthy of note that his first
landing place is now marked by the great seaport of Archangel.
Chancellor’s second expedition was less fortunate, for the gallant
sailor lost his life in his attempt to continue his work. He
reached Russia in safety, and once more repaired to Moscow, where
he continued the negotiations which he had previously begun. While
returning home, however, his ship was wrecked in Pitsligo Bay on the
east coast of Scotland and he was drowned.
The expedition of Chancellor and Willoughby had, of course, been
primarily sent out with a view to finding a north-east passage
to China, and these negotiations with Russia were a side issue
not originally contemplated by its promoters. Consequently, while
Chancellor was away on his second voyage, the Company of Merchants
Adventurers equipped a second expedition for the discovery of the
North-East Passage, which they placed under the command of Stephen
Burrough. The _Searchthrift_, as the ship was named, set sail on
April 23, 1556, but it was stopped by fog and ice, and Burrough was
obliged to return to England without accomplishing his mission,
though he succeeded in discovering Nova Zembla.
The next English mariner to win fame for himself by his adventures
in the Arctic seas was Martin Frobisher, who, under the auspices of
Queen Elizabeth, the Earl of Warwick, a well-known merchant named Lok
and others, fitted out a fleet of three cockle-shells, the united
burden of which was only 73 tons, and set sail in 1576, with intent
to discover the North-West Passage. The chief result of Frobisher’s
voyage was a vast mass of very misleading information. On reaching
Davis Strait he came to the conclusion that it bisected Greenland, an
error which retained its place in the maps for some three centuries.
In the middle of the strait he discovered an island which did not
exist, while he brought home with him the interesting information
that large deposits of gold existed on the shores which he had
visited. On the strength of this all sorts of plans for working these
deposits were taken up, which only ended in the financial loss and
bitter disappointment of their promoters. Frobisher undertook the
command of two subsequent expeditions, but neither of them resulted
in any discoveries of much value. His name, however, will always be
kept alive by the discovery of Frobisher and Hudson Straits, both of
which he entered on his first journey.
We now come to by far the most important of these early voyages,
namely that made by John Davis, of Sandridge, in 1585. Davis was
a splendid old sea-dog of the finest type—shrewd, patient, and of
absolutely indomitable courage. So high was his reputation, that when
a number of merchants, headed by William Saunderson, determined to
fit out a new expedition for the discovery of the North-West Passage,
they offered him the command, and their offer was promptly accepted.
The expedition, which consisted of two ships, the _Sunshine_, of 50
tons, and carrying twenty-three men, and the _Moonshine_, 35 tons,
and carrying nineteen men, started on June 7, and by July 19 it was
off the south-east coast of Greenland, where Davis heard for the
first time the grinding together of the great icepacks. The shore
looked so barren and forbidding—“lothsome” is the epithet which Davis
applied to it—that he named it “Desolation.” Rounding the southern
point of Greenland and bearing northward, he soon reached lat. 64°,
where he moored his ships among some “green and pleasant isles,”
inhabited by natives who were very friendly disposed and quite ready
to trade with him. From these he learnt that there was a great sea
towards the north and west, so he set sail and shaped his course
W.N.W., expecting to get to China. Crossing the strait which now
bears his name, he sighted land in 66° 40′ and anchored in Exeter
Sound. The hill above them they named Mount Raleigh; the foreland to
the north, Cape Dyer; and that to the south, Cape Walsingham—names
which they still bear. The season was too far advanced for him to
attempt to explore the sound, but he discovered the wealth of those
regions in whales, seals, and deerskins—a discovery which, it need
hardly be said, was very highly valued by the merchants who had
equipped the expedition.
As was only natural, both Davis and his patrons were anxious to
continue the discoveries thus auspiciously begun, and May 7, 1586,
saw him starting on his second expedition, his fleet strengthened
by the addition of the _Merimade_, a ship of 120 tons. She did not
prove of very much service, however, for she deserted in lat. 66°,
and Davis went on his way without her. He did not succeed in adding
anything of value to his discoveries of the previous year, merely
coasting southward along Labrador, without observing the entrance to
Hudson Strait.
Davis’s third expedition left on May 19, 1587, and consisted of
three ships, the _Elizabeth_, the _Sunshine_, and the _Ellen_. On
reaching lat. 67° 40′ he left two of his ships to prosecute fishing,
and sailed on by himself on a voyage of discovery. He came, as he
tells us himself, “to the lat. of 75°, in a great sea, free from
ice, coasting the western shore of Desolation.... Then I departed
from that coast, thinking to discover the north parts of America.
And after I had sailed toward the west near forty leagues, I fell
upon a great bank of ice. The wind being north, and blew much, I was
constrained to coast towards the south, not seeing any shore west
from me. Neither was there any ice towards the north, but a great
sea, free, large, very salt and blue, and of an unsearchable depth.
So coasting towards the south, I came to the place where I left the
ships to fish, but found them not. Thus being forsaken and left in
this distress, referring myself to the merciful providence of God,
I shaped my course for England, and unhoped for of any, God alone
relieving me, I arrived at Dartmouth. By this last discovery it
seemed most manifest that the passage was free and without impediment
toward the north; but by reason of the Spanish fleet, and unfortunate
time of Master Secretary’s death, the voyage was omitted, and never
since attempted.” So ended the Arctic voyages of John Davis. “The
discoveries which he made ...,” says Sir John Ross, “proved of great
commercial importance; since to him, more than to any preceding or
subsequent navigator, has the whale fishery been indebted.”
In the meantime interest in the North-East Passage had by no means
subsided; indeed, it had actually been quickened by Philip II.’s
accession to the throne of Portugal and by the consequent fact that
Spain and Portugal, not content with already holding the monopoly of
the route to the East, attempted to make their influence felt upon
the trade operations of the nations of Northern Europe. It was in
1580 that Arthur Pet, in the _George_, and Charles Jackson, in the
_William_, sailed from England under the auspices of the Muscovy
Company, with instructions to push as far east as they possibly
could. The expedition was singularly ill-found, for the burden of
the _George_ was only 40 tons, her crew consisting of nine men and a
boy, while the _William_ was but half the size of her sister ship,
and carried a crew of five men and a boy. The adventurers, however,
made light of the difficulties that beset them, and, after making
Nova Zembla in the neighbourhood of the South Goose Cape, they turned
south and, coasting along Waigat Island, entered the mouth of the
Pechora. Thence they pushed their way into the Kara Sea, being the
first sailors from Western Europe who ever achieved such a feat.
The Muscovy Company does not seem to have considered it worth its
while to proceed with the exploration of these unattractive regions,
but the Dutch, who were no less anxious than the English to find a
North-East Passage, sent out in 1594 an expedition which consisted of
three ships, commanded by Willem Barents, Nay, and Tetgales. Barents
attempted to find a passage round the north of Nova Zembla, while his
companions turned south and made their way into the Kara Sea. The
reports which these pioneers brought home with them so encouraged
their fellow-countrymen, that they were sent off with a fleet of
seven ships in the following year to continue their discoveries. This
expedition penetrated a little further along the coast, but it by no
means succeeded in fulfilling its mission, and the States-General
became rather chary of spending any more money upon the venture.
Accordingly they contented themselves with offering a large reward
to any person or persons who could find a practicable passage to
China, and left it to private enterprise to do the rest. The result
of this step was that a company of merchants fitted out two ships
of discovery in 1596, and gave the command of one of them to John
Cornelius Ryp and of the other to Heemskeerck, appointing Barents
chief pilot to the latter. On June 9 they discovered an island which
they called Bear Island, in memory of a terrific encounter that they
had with a polar bear there. They now found that their progress
eastwards was checked by ice, and they accordingly stood north,
with the result that it fell to their lot to be the discoverers of
Spitzbergen. They spent two days in a bay which appears to have been
that known as Fair Haven, and then, after an ineffectual attempt to
push further north, they returned to Bear Island, where, owing to a
difference of opinion as to the best course to pursue, they parted
company, Ryp revisiting the coast of Spitzbergen, while Barents set
his course for Nova Zembla. We may mention parenthetically that
Heemskeerck was not himself a sailor, and that, in consequence, the
lion’s share of the honours which this expedition earned has always
been given to Barents, on whom the navigation of the ship necessarily
devolved.
[Illustration: STRANDED IN NOVA ZEMBLA]
The rest of the story of this unfortunate voyage is one of terrible
trials borne with heroic fortitude. While coasting along the shore
of Nova Zembla, Barents suddenly found himself in the midst of heavy
ice, and time after time his ship only just escaped destruction by
the squeezing together of the floes. His duty to his employers always
being uppermost in his mind, he bravely attempted to push on to the
east, but he soon found that that was impossible, and that all his
efforts must be directed towards getting his ship home. As he drew
near the shore, however, in the hope of finding a little open water
there, the ice bore down upon it, crushed his boats to pieces and
almost annihilated his ship. To add to his misfortunes, a northerly
gale arose, which placed him in an even more dangerous position
than before. He now found himself to the east of the island in an
inlet which he named Ice Haven, but which is now called Barents Bay,
with his retreat cut off both to the north and to the south. There
was nothing for him to do, therefore, but to make the most of an
exceedingly bad business and spend the winter where he was. Now it
must be remembered that no traveller had ever yet passed a winter
in the Arctic regions, and that Barents and his men were totally
unprepared for such an emergency. They had little food, less fuel,
no proper clothes and, last but by no means least, their ship was
not suited for a winter abode. In the midst of their misfortunes,
however, they kept up their hearts, and instantly set about building
a hut wherein they could spend the long, dark months.
Fortunately for them there was an abundance of driftwood on the
island “driven upon the shoare, either from Tartaria, Muscovia, or
elsewhere, for there was none growing upon that land, wherewith, as
if God had purposely sent them to us, we were much comforted.” This
driftwood lay at a distance of some eight miles from the site of this
house, and the labour of fetching it was enhanced by the darkness
which was now setting in, and by the ferocity of the bears which
haunted the neighbourhood and were a constant source of danger to the
party. The Dutchmen, however, worked with a will, and by October 24
they had moved into their new abode, one of the features of which was
a wine cask, with a square opening cut in its side, which was set up
in a corner and used as a bath.
The bears afforded them some fresh meat up till November 3, when
they and the sun disappeared at one and the same time. After this
they occasionally succeeded in trapping foxes, but the cold was so
intense that they were often unable to venture out of the house for
days together. “It blew so hard and snowed so fast,” writes Gerrit
de Veer, the chronicler of the expedition, “that we should have
smothered if we had gone out into the air; and to speake truth, it
had not been possible for any man to have gone one ship’s length,
though his life had laine thereon; for it was not possible for us
to go out of the house. One of our men made a hole open at one of
our doores ... but found it so hard wether that he stayed not long,
and told us that it had snowed so much that the snow lay higher than
our house.” Again, “It frose so hard that as we put a nayle into
our mouths (as when men worke carpenter’s worke they use to doe),
there would ice hang thereon when we tooke it out againe, and made
the blood follow.” Or, “It was so extreme cold that the fire almost
caste no heate; for as we put our feete to the fire, we burnt our
stockings before we could feele the heate.... And, which is more,
if we had not sooner smelt than felt them, we should have burnt
them quite away ere we had knowne it.” De Veer also tells us that
the clothes on the backs even of those who sat near the fire were
frequently covered with hoar-frost, and that the beer and all the
spirits were frozen solid. Yet in the midst of all this he was able
to make the following entry in his journal: “We alwaies trusted in
God that hee would deliver us from thence towards sommer time either
one way or another.... We comforted each other giving God thanks that
the hardest time of the winter was passed, being in good hope that we
should live to talke of those things at home in our owne country.” It
was in this spirit of patient resignation that the brave Dutchmen met
all their troubles.
Even when the sun returned it brought them but little relief from
their sufferings, for the intensity of the cold seemed to increase,
and there was no hope that the ice in their harbour would break up
early. The ship was so badly damaged that she could not survive the
voyage home, so they set about repairing the boats as best they
could, with a view to crossing in them the thousand miles of sea
that lay between them and Lapland. At last the time came for them
to make their departure, but Barents was now so ill that he had to
be taken to the boat on a sledge. His courage, however, was still
indomitable, as this passage in De Veer’s account shows: “Being at
the Ice Point the maister called to William Barents to know how he
did, and William Barents made answer and said, Quite well, mate. I
still hope to be able to run before we get to Wardhuus. Then he spak
to me and said: Gerrit, if we are near the Ice Point, just lift me up
again. I must see that point once more.” His courage, however, was
greater than his strength, and on June 20, six days after the start,
the end came. We quote our chronicler once more: “William Barents
looked at my little chart, which I had made of our voyage, and we had
some discussion about it; at last he laid away the card and spak unto
me saying, Gerrit, give me something to drink and he had no sooner
drunke but he was taken with so sodain a qualme, that he turned his
eies in his head and died presently. The death of William Barents put
us in no small discomfort, as being the chiefe guide and onely pilot
on whom we reposed ourselves next under God; but we could not strive
against God, and therefore we must be content.”
The sufferings of the party of fifteen on their terrible voyage over
the stormy and ice-laden sea were scarcely less terrible than those
which they had endured on the island. Such was their courage and
determination, however, that they at last reached Lapland in safety,
where they had the satisfaction of finding Cornelius Ryp, on whose
vessel they were conveyed back to Holland.
CHAPTER II
FROM HUDSON TO PHIPPS AND NELSON
With the voyages of Weymouth, Knight, and Hall, which occupied the
first few years of the seventeenth century, we need not concern
ourselves at all, for they resulted in no discoveries of any
importance. In the year 1607, however, Henry Hudson started off on
the first of that series of travels by which his name became famous,
and during the course of which he succeeded in carrying the British
flag to places that had never before been trodden by the foot of
civilised man.
As has already been seen, the north-west and north-east passages
to the Indies had been tried and found wanting. British merchants,
however, were by no means disposed to let Spain and Portugal retain
their lucrative monopoly without making a struggle to wrest it from
them, so they determined to send out a fresh expedition which should
attempt to force its way to the land of gems and spices over the
North Pole itself. The command of this expedition was entrusted to
Henry Hudson, a seaman of such daring and skill that he was well able
to accomplish the work if it lay within the power of a human being
to do so. Hudson started off from the Thames on May 1, 1607, in a
small barque which was manned by ten men and a boy, and made direct
for the east coast of Greenland. By June 22 he had reached lat. 72°
38′, where he discovered the land which still bears his name, the
chief promontory of which he named Cape Hold-with-Hope. He then set
his course for Spitzbergen, which, as we have seen, had been first
sighted by Barents eleven years earlier, and there he reached the
high latitude of 80° 23′. His provisions being now nearly exhausted,
he was obliged to return home.
On his second voyage he attempted to discover a north-east passage
round Nova Zembla, but was so hampered by ice that he was unable
to proceed far on his way, while the only geographic result of his
third voyage was the discovery of the Hudson River. These early
expeditions, however, though they achieved little in the way of
discovery, proved of great commercial value, for they gave rise to
the great Spitzbergen whale fishery.
Hudson’s fourth and last voyage, that of 1610, was organised by
Sir John Wolstenholm and Sir Dudley Digges, who were convinced of
the existence of the North-West Passage, and felt that Hudson was
the man to find it. Accordingly, Hudson sailed on April 17 in the
_Discovery_, a ship of 55 tons, which was provisioned for six months.
By June 9 he had reached Frobisher Strait, and here a contrary wind
arose which compelled him to ply westward into Hudson’s Bay. Several
British seamen had already visited the mouth of the strait, and it is
believed that Portuguese fishermen had actually entered the bay; but
the terrible circumstances which attended Hudson’s voyage to it made
it only natural that it should be named after him in commemoration
of his achievements and his fate.
The _Discovery_ had penetrated the bay to a distance of over three
hundred miles further than ever an English ship had penetrated it
before when she was beset by ice, and all chance of retreat was
cut off. As we have already seen, she was only provisioned for six
months, and the unfortunate crew found themselves, in consequence,
with starvation staring them in the face. Hudson, fortunately, was
a man of resource, and he lost no time in organising hunting and
fishing parties which provided his party with sufficient provisions
to tide over the winter. Had his crew remained faithful to him all
might have been well, but disaffection broke out early in the winter,
which, gathering force as the store of provisions grew more and more
scanty, broke out into open mutiny in the spring. The ringleaders
were the former mate and boatswain, whom Hudson had been obliged to
displace for using improper language, and a young man named Greene, a
protégé of Hudson, who repaid his benefactor’s kindness by deserting
him when he most needed friends. These men, seeing that when the ship
broke out of winter quarters in June there were barely fourteen days’
provisions left for the whole crew, determined to place Hudson and
eight other men in a boat, and, leaving them to shift for themselves,
to sail home for England. This heartless plan was promptly carried
into execution. Hudson was seized and bound when he came out of
his cabin, and with five sick men, John Hudson and John King, the
carpenter, who bravely refused to join the mutineers, was thrown
into a boat and deserted. Of the unfortunate castaways nothing more
was ever heard, and the most careful search of Sir Thomas Button,
who examined the whole of the western shore of the bay, failed to
discover any clue to their fate. Of the mutineers, Greene and four
others were killed in a fight with the natives, while the rest only
just succeeded in reaching England.
The voyages of Hall in 1612 and Gibbons in 1614 did not result in
much, but in 1615 William Baffin started out on the first of his two
expeditions which were destined to add so much to the world’s store
of knowledge of the Arctic seas. Baffin, who was described by Sherard
Osborn as “the ablest, the prince of Arctic navigators,” was in 1615
appointed by the Merchants Adventurers pilot and associate to Richard
Bylot, of the _Discovery_, which was now to make her fourth voyage
in search of the North-West Passage. Making first for Hudson Strait,
they soon discovered that they were being led into a blind alley. As
the conditions, however, did not permit them to extend their voyage
much that season, they were obliged to return home. In the following
year, however, they were sent out once more by the Merchants
Adventurers, and on this occasion they determined to push on north
along the coast of Greenland. On May 30 they reached Sanderson’s
Hope, Davis’s farthest point, and there they entered upon an entirely
new field of discovery. With such energy did they apply themselves to
the work that they had crossed Melville Bay by the beginning of June,
and were sailing merrily on their way past Cape York, Cape Dudley
Digges, and Whale Sound. At last, when they had exceeded Davis’s
farthest north by over three hundred miles, their triumphant career
was stopped at the entrance to Smith Sound, within sight of Cape
Alexander. This latitude, 77° 45′, remained unequalled for over two
centuries.
Unable to proceed any further to the north, Baffin and Bylot
determined to sail south-west, and to see if they could not add to
their growing list of discoveries on their homeward journey. Their
hopes were amply fulfilled, for on July 12 they found themselves
off the entrance to Lancaster Sound, which was the gate, as it
afterwards proved, to the North-West Passage. The ice, unfortunately,
did not permit them to enter the Sound, so they made for the coast
of Greenland, where they rested their men prior to their return to
England.
For the next hundred years or so very little was done in the way of
Arctic discovery. A Dane of the name of Jens Munk started out to seek
for the North-West Passage, and succeeded in making a few discoveries
in Hudson’s Bay. In 1631, again, Captain Luke, alias “North-West,”
Fox sallied forth on the same mission, bearing with him an epistle
from the King of England to the Emperor of Japan, which, however,
remained undelivered. The work which he did was not of much value,
but he made up for this deficiency by writing a very humorous account
of his experiences. Captain James, who went exploring in the same
year, seems to have been dogged by ill-luck from the beginning to the
end of his voyage, and Barrow describes his narrative of it as “a
book of lamentation and weeping and great mourning.”
Though, however, very little was done in the way of exploration
during the second half of the seventeenth century, great strides
were made in the development of the country already explored by the
formation of the famous Hudson Bay Company, which for two hundred
years did a tremendous trade in Northern Canada. The inception of
this Company was mostly due to a certain French Canadian of the name
of Grosseliez, who, after an ineffectual attempt to induce the French
Government to consider his schemes for founding a great industry,
came to England, where he obtained the ear of Prince Rupert. The
Prince sailed for Hudson Bay with Grosseliez, saw the possibilities
of the country, and obtained from King Charles a charter, dated 1669,
which conferred on him and his associates, exclusively, all the
trade, land, and territories in Hudson’s Bay. The charter further
ordained that they should use their best endeavours to find a passage
to the South Sea, but the Company soon became so rich from its trade
that it seems to have conveniently forgotten this clause.
Occasionally, it is true, it attempted to do something in the way
of exploration, but these efforts were for the most part only
half-hearted, and resulted in little. In 1719, for example, James
Knight, allured by reports of mines of pure copper by a great river
to the north, gave the Company to understand that he would call upon
the authorities to examine their charter unless they arranged an
expedition and appointed him its leader.
Very reluctantly they consented to do as he wished, and equipped
two ships for the purpose of surveying the northern coast of their
territories. Not a single member of the expedition returned, and
nothing was known of their fate until, forty years later, a quantity
of wreckage was found on Marble Island.
With the exception of Middleton’s expedition of 1741, during
the course of which Wager Inlet, Repulse Bay, and Frozen Strait
were discovered, nothing much more was done in the way of Arctic
exploration for the next fifty years. In 1769, however, the Company
determined to make another effort to find the mines of copper of
which the natives brought so glowing an account, and with this end
in view they sent out an overland expedition under the command of
Samuel Hearne. This expedition, which started out in November, was
a complete failure, because it began its work too late in the year,
while the second expedition, which left in February, failed because
the preparations were inadequate. Warned by these two experiences,
Hearne sallied forth once more in December 1670, and on this occasion
he claimed to have found the mouth of the Coppermine River. His
observations, however, were rather hazy, and it is doubtful whether
he really reached the Polar Sea. The end of his journey was marred
by an unfortunate collision between his Indian guides and a tribe of
Eskimos, during the course of which all the unfortunate natives were
massacred. The effects of this incident were to be felt later on,
when Franklin, visiting those inhospitable shores with his gallant
companions, was regarded with such suspicion by the Eskimos that he
could hardly obtain that assistance which he so sorely needed.
One other early attempt to reach the Polar Sea by the land
route deserves to be recorded: that of Alexander—afterwards Sir
Alexander—Mackenzie, the discoverer of the river which bears his
name. Having been led to believe by the accounts of Indians that
the sea could be reached by a large river issuing from the Great
Slave Lake, he determined to test the story himself, and set out on
June 3, 1789. The difficulties in his way were innumerable, for not
only was the river broken up by dangerous rapids, but it was only
after infinite trouble that he could induce any guides to accompany
him, for the natives believed the river to be peopled by monsters,
who were ready to devour the unwary traveller without the least
provocation. However, he succeeded in reaching the sea near Whale
Island, and had the satisfaction of knowing that the tales of the
Indians were true, though he was unable to use his knowledge for any
practical purpose.
Meanwhile, Russia was busily opening up the north-east coast of
Siberia, partly with a view to getting some control over the
unmanageable Chukches, the only Siberian tribe who succeeded in
resisting their somewhat rough and ready methods, and partly with
a view to developing trade in that direction and to discovering
whether or not the Asiatic and American continents were united. Many
expeditions set out with these ends in view, among them being those
of Ignatieff, Deshneff, Alexieff, and Ankudinoff, but of these it is
impossible to give a detailed account here, and we need not take up
the story of exploration in these regions until 1725, when the Great
Northern Expedition, conceived by Peter the Great and carried into
execution by the Empress Anne, set forth under the command of Vitus
Bering, a Dane in the Russian service.
Immense difficulties had to be overcome before the expedition
could start at all. Long overland journeys had to be made across
Siberia, supplies had to be accumulated at Okhotsk and a vessel
had to be built there, with the result that it was not until the
end of June, 1727, that Spanberg, Bering’s assistant, was able to
sail for Bolsheretsk in the _Fortuna_. Here more supplies had to
be accumulated and a second ship built, which involved a delay of
yet another year. At last, however, on July 24, 1728, Bering sailed
gaily down the Kamchatka River, in the _Gabriel_, on his voyage of
exploration. The preparations had extended over more than three
years, and the voyage occupied about seven weeks, during which no
discoveries whatever were made, so that the game seems to have been
hardly worth the rather expensive candle. During the following summer
he sallied out of his harbour once more, but he does not seem to have
prosecuted his work with very much ardour, for he returned at the end
of three days, during which he had sailed about a hundred miles. He
then made his way to St Petersburg.
The Empress Anne seems to have been easily pleased, for although
Bering had been away for five years and had accomplished nothing
whatever, she gave orders that a second and even larger expedition
should be placed under his command. The preparations for this voyage
occupied some seven years, but at last, in September 1740, Bering was
ready to start, and before winter closed in upon him he succeeded in
rounding Kamchatka and reaching Avatcha, now known as Petropaulovsk;
not a very remarkable voyage, perhaps, but a step in the right
direction. There he spent the winter, and in June of the following
year he started out in the _St Peter_, accompanied by the _St Paul_,
under the command of Tschirikoff. Even now, however, he could not
succeed in overcoming his passion for dawdling, and much valuable
time was wasted in searching for the land of Gama, which, in point of
fact, did not exist. At last, however, the two ships set their course
north-east, and a few days later they parted company during a heavy
fog. Both of them succeeded in making America, a feat, however, which
had already been accomplished by Gwosdef during Bering’s absence at
St Petersburg. Tschirikoff made the American coast on July 26, and
after some exciting experiences, during which two parties who were
sent ashore to explore were completely lost, he returned in safety
to Petropaulovsk. Bering, who reached America three days later than
his companion, was less fortunate. Caught by contrary winds and heavy
gales, his vessel was ultimately stranded on Bering Island, where
she broke up. Her commander, utterly disheartened, refused to eat or
drink or to take shelter in the hut which had been constructed of
driftwood, with the result that he died on December 19. The command
of the party now devolved on Lieutenant Waxell, who, ably assisted by
a brilliant young naturalist, named Steller, succeeded in bringing
the party safely out of its quandary. Their stay on the island,
though it was miserable in the extreme, had its compensations, for
they found that the place abounded in the rare blue fox and the
no less valuable sea-otter, of the skins of which the men secured
such quantities that they took twenty thousand pounds’ worth home to
Russia.
Bering did not succeed in discovering either the sea or the strait
which have been named after him, but he mapped out a large tract of
the Asiatic coast with some accuracy and opened up a trade which
proved to be of immense value.
Up to the middle of the second half of the eighteenth century the
efforts of navigators had, for the most part, been directed to
finding a passage to the Indies either by the north-western or by the
north-eastern route. Robert Thorne, it is true, had come forward with
a bold plan for attempting to sail across the North Pole, but he had
not succeeded in getting very far on his way, and the idea had been
allowed to lapse. In 1773, however, the Earl of Sandwich, then First
Lord of the Admiralty, having been approached upon the subject by the
Royal Society, suggested to George III. that an expedition should be
sent out to discover how far it was possible to sail in the direction
of the Pole. The King was pleased with the idea, and preparations
for the venture were at once set on foot. The _Racehorse_ and the
_Carcase_, two of the strongest ships of the day, were selected
as being best suited for the purpose, and were fitted out as the
ideas of the time dictated. The command was entrusted to Captain
Constantine John Phipps, afterwards the second Lord Mulgrave, Captain
Skiffington Lutwidge was appointed second in command, two masters of
Greenland ships were attached to the expedition as pilots, and an
astronomer, with all the latest instruments, was recommended by the
Board of Longitude.
So far as actual achievements were concerned, there is nothing
much to be recorded. Phipps was unfortunate in his year, and north
of Spitzbergen he found a solid wall of ice which it was quite
impossible for him to penetrate. He had the satisfaction, however, of
reaching lat. 80° 48 N., a higher point than any of his predecessors.
One episode deserves to be noticed as it came near causing the death
of Nelson, who was serving in the humble capacity of captain’s
coxswain. “One night,” says Southey, “during the mid-watch, he stole
from the ship with one of his comrades, taking advantage of a rising
fog, and set out over the ice in pursuit of a bear. It was not long
before they were missed. The fog thickened, and Captain Lutwidge and
his officers became exceedingly alarmed for his safety. Between three
and four in the morning the weather cleared, and the two adventurers
were seen, at a considerable distance from the ship, attacking a huge
bear. The signal for them to return was immediately made; Nelson’s
comrade called upon him to obey it, but in vain. His musket had
flashed in the pan, their ammunition was expended, and a chasm in the
ice, which divided him from the bear, probably preserved his life.
‘Never mind,’ he cried, ‘do but let me get a blow at the devil with
the butt-end of my musket, and we shall have him.’ Captain Lutwidge,
however, seeing his danger, fired a gun, which had the desired effect
of frightening the beast; and the boy then returned, somewhat afraid
of the consequences of his trespass. The captain reprimanded him
sternly for conduct so unworthy of the office which he filled, and
desired to know what motive he could have for hunting a bear. ‘Sir,’
said he, pouting his lip, as he was wont to do when agitated, ‘I
wished to kill the bear that I might carry the skin to my father.’”
[Illustration: THE “RACEHORSE” AND THE “CARCASE” IN THE ICE
FROM A PICTURE BY J. CLIVELY]
It was three years after the return of the _Racehorse_ and _Carcase_
that Captain Cook made his only expedition into the Arctic seas. His
success in the Antarctic had led his friends in England to hope great
things of his voyage through the Bering Strait, but, unfortunately,
his two ships, the _Resolution_ and the _Discovery_, proved but
ill-adapted for service in the Arctic, and though he succeeded in
charting a good deal of the unknown American coast, he made no
approach to finding that North-West Passage for the discovery of
which he had been set out. He had intended to return to the Arctic
again with a view to prosecuting his discoveries there, but his death
at Hawaii in 1779 prevented him from fulfilling his purpose, and his
second in command, Captain Clerke, on whom the leadership of the
expedition devolved, died of consumption at Petropaulovsk.
CHAPTER III
THE VOYAGE OF BUCHAN AND FRANKLIN
What with the American War and the Napoleonic Wars, our sailors had
their hands so full at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning
of the nineteenth centuries, that they had no time to spare for
unnecessary exploration, and there is, in consequence, a hiatus of
forty years in the story of Arctic discovery. In 1817, however,
Captain William Scoresby, junior, one of the most famous of Scotch
whalers, reported to Sir Joseph Banks that he had found nearly 2000
square leagues of the Spitzbergen Sea free from ice, and that he had,
in consequence, been able to sight the eastern coast of Greenland,
at a meridian usually considered inaccessible, adding that it would
be greatly to the advantage of our whale fishery if expeditions were
sent out to continue the work of exploration which had remained in
abeyance for so long. Both Sir Joseph Banks and Sir John Barrow, then
Secretary to the Admiralty, were much impressed by this report and
it was through their representations that the Government decided to
send out two expeditions in 1818, one of which was to make an effort
to reach the Pole, while the other was to search for the elusive
North-West Passage. The list of the officers of these two expeditions
included six names which were destined to become famous all over the
world for their Arctic work—those of Back, Beechey, Franklin, Parry,
John Ross, and James C. Ross.
The ships detailed for the first of these two expeditions were the
_Dorothea_ (370 tons) and the _Trent_ (250 tons), two stout whalers
which were specially strengthened for work in the ice with all the
extra wood and iron that they could carry. They were provisioned
for two years, and the leadership of the expedition was entrusted
to Captain Buchan, who sailed on the _Dorothea_, while Franklin
commanded the _Trent_, with Beechey as his lieutenant. The object of
the mission was scientific as well as geographical, and it was hoped
that many useful investigations would be made into the atmospheric,
meteorological, and magnetic phenomena of the unknown region which it
was to traverse.
The expedition sailed on April 25, the Arctic circle was crossed on
May 18, and Bear Island sighted on the 24th. Standing north for the
south cape of Spitzbergen, the ships met with their first serious
opposition from the ice. They succeeded in making their way through
the belt, however, and they were soon lying in Magdalena Bay. Further
progress north was summarily checked by a vast field of ice through
which it was impossible to penetrate, for the moment at any rate.
Accordingly, Buchan decided to spend some time in exploring Magdalena
Bay, in the hope that the conditions would change, and that he would
be able to pass through it. His second venture, however, met with no
better success. Indeed, disaster very nearly cut short the career
of the two ships, for, while they were coasting along the pack, the
breeze suddenly dropped, and they were driven by the swell into the
midst of the innumerable floes which were constantly being dashed by
the rollers against the main sheet of ice. So fierce was the impact
of these floes that they were crumbled to pieces, and for miles
around the sea was covered with a thick pasty substance, known as
brash ice, which often extended to a depth of five feet.
Fortunately, however, a breeze arose which carried them out of their
dangerous predicament, and they were able to proceed on their way.
Continuing their reconnaisance to the west, they found but little
change in the condition of the pack, and they decided to desist for
the present from their attempts to find a way through it. Accordingly
they put about and made for Spitzbergen, where they found that the
pack, though still impenetrable, had shifted a little, leaving a
passage between it and the land. Rather unwisely, perhaps, Buchan
attempted to make his way along this channel, and he had only just
passed Red Cliff when the ice closed in upon him on every side,
making it impossible for him either to advance or to retreat.
Here they remained for thirteen days with little to do except to
observe the habits of the animals which appeared on all sides, and
to indulge in a little hunting when the opportunity offered. In this
connection Beechey tells a rather interesting story illustrating the
ingenuity of the Polar bear. “Bears, when hungry,” he writes, “seem
always on the watch for animals sleeping on the ice, and endeavour
by stratagem to approach them unobserved: for, on the smallest
disturbance, the animals dart through holes in the ice, which they
always take care to be near, and thus evade pursuit. One sunshiny
day a walrus, of nine or ten feet in length, rose in a pool of water
not very far from us, and after looking round, drew his greasy
carcase upon the ice, where he rolled about for a time, and at length
laid himself down to sleep. A bear which had probably been observing
his movements, crawled carefully upon the ice at the opposite side
of the pool, and began to roll about also, but apparently more with
design than amusement, as he progressively lessened the distance
that intervened between him and his prey. The walrus, suspicious of
his advances, drew himself up, preparatory to a precipitate retreat
into the water, in case of a nearer acquaintance with his playful
but treacherous visitor; on which the bear was instantly motionless
as if in the act of sleep, but after a time began to lick his paws
and clean himself, and occasionally to encroach a little more on
his intended prey. But even this artifice did not succeed; the wary
walrus was far too cunning to allow himself to be entrapped, and
suddenly plunged in the pool.” The bears, however, were not always so
unlucky in their hunting, for in the stomach of one that they killed
they found a Greenlander’s garter.
Walrus hunting also afforded them a little sport, and on one occasion
the crew were so unwise as to attack a herd in the ordinary ship’s
boats. Immediately the walruses rose on all sides, and it was no easy
matter to prevent them from staving in the sides of the boats with
their tusks, or dragging them under water. “It was the opinion of
our people,” says Beechey, “that in this assault the walruses were
led by one animal in particular, a much larger and more formidable
beast than any of the others; and they directed their efforts more
particularly towards him, but he withstood all the blows of their
tomahawks without flinching, and his tough hide resisted the entry
of the whale lances, which were, unfortunately, not very sharp, and
soon bent double. The herd were so numerous, and their attacks so
incessant, that there was not time to load a musket, which, indeed,
was the only mode of seriously injuring them. The purser fortunately
had his gun loaded, and the whole crew being now nearly exhausted
with chopping and sticking at their assailants, he snatched it up,
and thrusting the muzzle down the throat of the leader, fired into
his body. The wound proved mortal, and the animal fell back amongst
his companions, who immediately desisted from the attack, assembled
round him, and in a moment quitted the boat, swimming away as hard as
they could with their leader, whom they actually bore up with their
tusks, and assiduously prevented from sinking.”
The release which they had been praying for came at last, but it
brought little improvement to their position, for a terrific gale
arose which drove both the ships into the pack, with the result that
half the timbers of the _Trent_ were strained, while the _Dorothea_
was reduced to something little better than a wreck. To attempt any
further exploration was hopeless, so they made for Spitzbergen, where
they found a safe anchorage in South Gat. Here the vessels were
put into a state of repair, the officers in the meantime exploring
the part of the island on which they found themselves, and making
observations. On August 30 they put to sea once more, and arrived
safely in England on October 22.
CHAPTER IV
ROSS’S FAILURES AND PARRY’S SUCCESSES
While Buchan and Franklin were in difficulties in the ice off
Spitzbergen, Ross and Parry with the _Isabella_ (385 tons) and the
_Alexander_ (252 tons) were searching the shores of Baffin’s Bay for
the North-West Passage. They had set sail from Lerwick on May 3, and
by the end of June they were past Disco Island. Here, through the
medium of John Sackheuse, their invaluable interpreter, they opened
up very friendly relations with the natives, in whose honour they
gave a ball, which afforded immense entertainment to all concerned.
After this, progress became slower, for the sea was cumbered with
ice, and the crew were compelled to adopt the tedious expedient of
“tracking” the ship through it, that is to say, of going ashore with
a rope and dragging her through the obstruction. At the end of July,
however, Ross succeeded in reaching Melville Bay, which proved to be
one of the most important discoveries of the voyage, for the sea was
full of whales, and has proved a lucrative hunting-ground for whalers
ever since.
As they were nearing the northern shores of the Bay the voyage of the
_Isabella_ and the _Alexander_ came near to being summarily ended
by a terrific gale which drove the ice upon them in such quantities
that they were almost overwhelmed by it. Fortunately they both
survived, and shortly after the storm had subsided, a number of
natives with dog-sleighs were seen in the distance. All attempts at
enticing them nearer by means of presents proved vain, but eventually
the interpreter, Sackheuse, succeeded in getting into communication
with them. At first they were inclined to distrust the strangers,
imagining that the ships were some kind of weird animals with wings
which had come either from the sun or the moon, they could not be
sure which, with the express object of doing them an injury. The
misunderstanding, however, was eventually cleared up, and they were
induced to visit the ships, where everything that they saw was a
source of infinite interest to them, with the exception of the ship’s
biscuit and salted meat, for which they expressed supreme disdain.
Pressing on north, the explorers found the sea fairly clear of ice,
and they soon passed Cape Dudley Digges, Wolstenholme Island and
Whale Sound, none of which had been visited since Baffin’s day, and
which cartographers had thought fit to erase from the maps, believing
that Baffin had been the victim of hallucinations.
It was just after he had passed the Canary Islands that Ross made his
first great mistake. It must be remembered in his extenuation that he
was totally inexperienced in Arctic travel, and that he was unused
to the strange atmospheric phenomena and illusions which meet the
voyager in these regions at every turn. Even in the short period of
his stay in the Polar seas, however, he ought to have learnt enough
to prevent him from being beguiled into the belief that Smith’s
Sound was nothing but a bay headed by a huge range of impenetrable
mountains. That, however, was the conclusion to which he came, and he
made no effort to push further north than the entrance to the Sound.
Had he done so he would, of course, have found that his mountains
were nothing but weather-gleam.
He now put about and pushed south, taking very accurate bearings of
the various headlands which he passed. In the course of his voyage
he came upon the entrances to Jones and Lancaster Sounds, both of
which he was deterred from exploring by more ranges of impenetrable
mountains, through which, however, his own lieutenant, Parry, sailed
with perfect ease in the following year.
He reached Grimsby on November 14, meeting with no adventures worth
recording on the way home. His voyage had two great results. It
opened up an enormous and most lucrative whale fishery in and around
Melville Bay, and it vindicated Baffin’s position as an explorer.
Otherwise it was a little disappointing, for if he had not been so
obsessed with the idea that mountains hemmed him in on every side, he
might have accomplished much more than he actually achieved.
In the narrative of his voyage, which he published after his return,
Ross distinctly implies that his opinion as to the impossibility of
finding a passage through any one of these three sounds was shared
by the rest of his officers. This, however, appears to have been
very far from the truth, as Parry’s journals and letters attest. At
the time when the two vessels were cruising about in the mouth of
Lancaster Sound they were some three miles apart, the _Isabella_
being in advance. When the _Isabella_ put about, the crew of the
_Alexander_ were positively amazed, for so far as they could discern,
there was no land anywhere in sight.
The Admiralty seems to have had some inkling of the truth, for
shortly after their return, Parry and Franklin were summoned into
the presence of Lord Melville, and they gathered from the words
that he let fall that he was of opinion that Lancaster Sound was a
passage leading into some sea to the westward, an opinion which they
heartily endorsed. The result was that, when it was decided to send
out another expedition in the following spring, Parry was offered the
command. This expedition was to consist of two ships, the _Hecla_,
a bomb of 375 tons, and the _Griper_, a gunboat of 180 tons. Both
of these ships were selected by Parry before he knew that he was to
be placed in command, and it was under his supervision that they
were put in thorough repair, and specially strengthened for work in
the Arctic regions. Parry himself was to command the _Hecla_, while
the _Griper_ was to be entrusted to Lieutenant Liddon. The full
complement of both ships was ninety-four, and the Admiralty had no
difficulty in finding excellent seamen, for they offered double pay
to all those who took part in the expedition. Captain Sabine, whose
name subsequently became famous for his excellent scientific work,
was appointed naturalist and astronomer, and among the officers were
Lieutenants Beechey and Hoppner. The object of the mission, as stated
in the Admiralty instructions, was to seek out a north-west passage
from the Atlantic to the Pacific either through Lancaster, Jones or
Smith Sounds.
The ships weighed anchor on May 5, 1819, and at first progress was
slow, for the _Griper_ proved such a bad sailor that the _Hecla_ had
to take her in tow. On the 23rd they sighted the ice of Davis Strait,
and for a while they were obliged to bear to the eastward of it owing
to its thickness. On July 21, however, Parry was able to set his
course westwards, and eight days later they sighted the mountains at
the southern entrance of Lancaster Sound.
Parry unquestionably had excellent luck at this part of his voyage.
A good easterly breeze sprang up and the ships bowled merrily along
under all the sail that they could carry. The sea was practically
open, no land could be seen ahead, and the shores of the sound were
thirteen leagues apart. The one and only drawback was the poor
sailing powers of the _Griper_.
At midnight on August 4 the sun being then, of course, as bright as
at midday, they reached long. 90, and here they were pulled up by a
barrier of ice that stretched from shore to shore. The part of the
sound in which he now found himself Parry named Barrow Strait, while
to two islands which lay ahead of him he gave the names of Leopold
Islands, after Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg. To the westward of the
islands he perceived a bright light in the sky which is known to
Arctic sailors as “ice-blink” and which told him that there was no
chance of a passage in that direction; to the south of him, however,
there was a broad open space and over it was a dark water-sky, so he
determined that, as he could not push forward for the present, he
would set his course southward.
The wind was favourable and the ships soon found themselves bowling
along down an inlet at least ten leagues broad at the mouth, to
which Parry subsequently gave the name of Prince Regent’s Inlet. He
explored this inlet for about 120 miles in the hope that he might
find a passage leading westward but in this he was disappointed, and
perceiving presently that icebergs covered the whole of the westerly
horizon, he put about, and on the 13th was once more off Leopold
Islands. The sea was still covered with ice, but in a few days this
obstruction had cleared away completely and he was able to make his
way along the coast of North Devon.
The question of the continuity of land to the north had for some time
been worrying Parry, for there was a possibility that it might take a
turn to the south and join the coast of America. Presently, however,
his eyes were gladdened by the sight of a broad passage leading to
the north through which he hoped that he would be able to sail if it
proved impossible for him to make his way further westward, and to
which he gave the name of Wellington Channel. There was no necessity,
however, to explore it yet, for their way was still open before them,
and they sailed merrily along passing and naming, of course, at the
same time, Cornwallis, Griffith and Bathurst Islands. Towards the end
of August, however, the sea began to fill with ice, and Parry saw
that it was high time for him to begin to look for winter quarters.
These he eventually found in Hecla and Griper Bay, on the coast of
Melville Island, and here the ships were made snug for the winter,
though not until after the expedition had had the satisfaction of
crossing the meridian 110° W., thus earning the reward of £5000
offered by the Government to the first British subject who should
penetrate so far within the Arctic circle. They found that they were
none too soon, for the bay, when they reached it, was already covered
with a coating of ice, through which they had to carve a way for the
ship with saws.
The work of putting the ships in order for the winter was instantly
begun. The upper masts were dismantled, the lower yards were lashed
fore and aft amidships and a roofing erected over the deck in order
that the men might have a fairly warm house in which to take exercise
when the rigours of the winter made it impossible for them to venture
ashore. The question of how to provide his crew with that rational
amusement which was absolutely necessary for them if they were to
remain in good health next occupied Parry’s attention. He was himself
an excellent amateur actor, and as there were a couple of books
of plays on board, he promptly founded the Royal Arctic Theatre.
The scene-painting and rehearsals kept officers and men occupied
for weeks, and on November 5, the theatrical season opened with a
brilliant performance of “Miss in her ’teens,” with Parry as Fribble,
and Beechey as Miss Biddy.
At the same time, Sabine founded a weekly paper entitled the _North
Georgia Gazette and Winter Chronicle_, to which most of the officers
became regular contributors. Parry suddenly displayed poetic gifts of
which he had never before been suspected, Sabine showed a perfect
genius for dramatic criticism, while humorists galore sprang into
being.
One or two extracts from the Gazette may here be quoted. In the
issue of November 29, for example, we find an advertisement for “a
middle-aged woman, not above thirty, of good character, to assist
in DRESSING the LADIES at the THEATRE. Her salary will be handsome
and she will be allowed tea and small beer into the bargain.”
This drew forth a reply from Mrs Abigail Handicraft, who wrote as
follows: “I am a widow, twenty-six years of age, and can produce
undeniable testimonials of my character and qualifications; but
before I undertake the business of dressing the ladies at the
theatre, I wish to be informed whether it is customary for them to
keep on their breeches; also if I may be allowed two or three of
the stoutest able-seamen or marines, to lace their stays.” From the
following issue we learn that Mrs Handicraft was duly engaged and
that she was granted her two assistants who were to be equipped
with “marline-spikes, levers, and white-line” for the reduction of
Beechey’s waist to more reasonable proportions.
The theatricals, though they provided great amusement for the crew,
were often conducted under great difficulties, for the temperature
on the stage sometimes sank below zero, and on one occasion Captain
Lyon, when playing in “The Heir-at-Law” had to go through the last
act with two of his fingers frost-bitten.
[Illustration: CUTTING A PASSAGE INTO WINTER HARBOUR
FROM A SKETCH BY LIEUT. BEECHEY]
At the beginning of February the sun returned once more, but it
brought with it very little improvement in the temperature, and the
thermometer sometimes sank as low as 55° below zero. Several of the
men were badly frost-bitten, notably Smith, Sabine’s servant, who,
in his anxiety to save the dipping needle from a fire which broke out
in the observatory, ran out without putting on his gloves. As soon as
he returned to the ship, the surgeon plunged his hands into a basin
of icy water, the surface of which was immediately frozen by the cold
thus communicated to it.
During the latter part of the winter some exceedingly beautiful
atmospheric phenomena were seen. On March 4, for example, a halo
appeared round the sun, consisting of a circle which glowed with
prismatic colours. “Three parhelia, or mock suns, were distinctly
seen upon this circle; the first being directly over the sun and one
on each side of it, at its own altitude. The prismatic tints were
much more brilliant in the parhelia than in any other part of the
circle; but red, yellow and blue were the only colours which could be
traced, the first of these being invariably next the sun in all the
phenomena of this kind observed. From the sun itself, several rays of
white light, continuous but not very brilliant, extended in various
directions beyond the halo, and these rays were more bright after
passing through the circle than within it. This singular phenomenon
remained visible nearly two hours.”
On March 19 the theatrical season came to an end with performances
of “The Citizen” and “The Mayor of Garratt,” in which Parry took
the parts of old Philpot and Matthew Mug. The severest part of the
winter was now over, but the ice showed as yet no signs of breaking
up. Indeed, though a great deal of the snow melted during April and
May, there seemed to be no chance either of continuing the voyage
or of returning to England. June passed, and brought no prospect of
release, and Parry began to fear that he was doomed to spend another
winter in the ice, an eventuality for which he was but ill prepared.
Towards the end of July, however, the thaw began to have its effect
upon the ice of the harbour, and on August 1 the two ships were able
to weigh anchor and sail out of the bay.
They were not destined, however, to achieve much more. For several
weeks they were checked by contrary winds and battered by the ice,
till at last, on August 23, Parry decided that, as the season for
navigation would be coming to an end in a fortnight, he had better
return to England. This he accordingly proceeded to do, and the two
ships reached Peterhead in safety on October 29.
CHAPTER V
FRANKLIN’S FIRST OVERLAND JOURNEY
It is now necessary to return to Parry’s friend and fellow explorer,
John Franklin, who, it will be remembered, was summoned into Lord
Melville’s presence with Parry on November 18, 1818. The results of
this interview were that while Parry was appointed to the command
of the _Hecla_ and _Griper_, Franklin was commissioned to undertake
the no less important overland expedition to explore the shores of
the North American continent from the mouth of the Coppermine River
eastward.
The members of this expedition were five in number, and consisted of
Franklin himself, Dr John Richardson, a surgeon in the navy, George
Back, who had sailed as mate in the _Trent_ with Franklin in 1818,
Robert Hood, a midshipman, and John Hepburn, a sailor who was to act
as servant. The object was to survey the coast carefully, to place
conspicuous marks at the points at which ships might enter, and to
deposit such information as to the nature of the coast as might
be of service to Parry if he should actually succeed in finding
a north-west passage. Franklin was also to conduct a series of
scientific observations, making careful notes of the changes in the
temperature, the state of the wind and weather, the dip and variation
of the magnetic needle, and the intensity of the magnetic force.
In order that his chance of success might be as great as possible,
he was provided with letters of recommendation from the Governors
of the two great fur-trading companies of British North America—the
Hudson’s Bay Company and the North-West Company—in which the agents
were ordered to do their utmost, by every means and in every way, to
forward the interests of the expedition.
Franklin’s first care on reaching Hudson’s Bay was to proceed to
York Factory, where he consulted a number of officials, among them
being Mr Williams, the Governor of the Factory, as to the best way
of reaching the mouth of the Coppermine, where, of course, the
serious work of his expedition was to begin. They were decidedly of
opinion that he should proceed to Cumberland House, and thence travel
northwards along the chain of the Company’s posts to the Great Slave
Lake.
This route is practically a water-way, though the portages separating
the various streams and lakes of which it is composed are almost
numberless. Mr Williams, therefore, offered to provide the expedition
with one of the Company’s best boats, together with a large store
of provisions and the other things necessary for the journey, an
offer which, needless to say, was promptly accepted. Unfortunately,
when these stores were brought down to the beach they were found
to be of too great a bulk to be accommodated in the boat, so that
a large portion of them, including the bacon and part of the rice,
flour, ammunition, and tobacco, had to be left behind, the Governor
promising to send them on during the next season.
They set out on September 9, and they found that, though their
journey took them through very beautiful scenery, it was of the most
arduous description. The rivers were narrow, winding, and full of
rapids, while the current was frequently so swift that the use of
sails or oars was out of the question, and the boat had to be towed,
a method of progression which would have been pleasant enough had
not the shores been lofty and rocky and intersected by ravines and
tributary streams. In addition to this, there were the innumerable
portages to be reckoned with, and their progress was in consequence
slow in the extreme.
At last they reached Rock House, one of the posts of the Hudson’s
Bay Company, and there they were informed that still worse rapids
lay before them, and that the boat must be lightened if they were
to reach Cumberland House before the winter set in. Franklin was
therefore obliged to leave still more of his cargo there, with orders
for it to be forwarded by the Athabasca canoes as early in the
following season as possible.
Proceeding on their way, they reached Cumberland House on October
23, and here they found the ice already forming on the lake, and
learnt that it would be impossible for them to travel any further
that season. Accordingly, when Governor Williams arrived a few
days later and suggested that they should all winter at Cumberland
House, they gladly fell in with the idea. On talking matters over,
however, with the officers of the two great Companies, both of which
had posts on the lake, Franklin came to the conclusion that by
far his best plan would be to push on overland during the winter
into the Athabasca Department, where alone he could obtain the
guides, hunters, and interpreters necessary for the success of his
expedition. Accordingly, he requested Mr Williams to provide him
with dogs, sledges, and drivers for the conveyance of himself and
his two companions, Back and Hepburn. They started on January 18,
1820, and after a most unpleasant journey of 857 miles, in cold so
intense that newly-made tea used to freeze in the tin pots before
they had time to drink it, they reached Fort Chepewyan, on Athabasca
Lake, on March 26. There Franklin spent several months, picking up
such information as he could concerning the course of the Coppermine
River and the coast about its mouth from the Indians and interpreters
of the two Companies. The results of his investigations were fairly
satisfactory, and he decided to send messages to the Companies’
representatives on the Great Slave Lake, asking them to provide him
with any knowledge that they could collect, and to engage a number of
Copper Indians as guides and hunters.
On May 10 mosquitoes, these early harbingers of spring, put in an
appearance, and Franklin realised that the time was approaching for
him to make a move onwards. It was no easy matter, however, to obtain
the stores and men that he needed. The provisions collected at the
Fort were not much in excess of the actual needs of the inhabitants,
while the employées of the Company were very unwilling to engage with
his expedition except at an extortionate remuneration.
On July 13 Richardson and Hood arrived upon the scene, bringing
with them all the provisions that they had been able to collect
at Cumberland House and Isle à la Crosse. These, however, did not
amount to much as the Canadian voyagers belonging to the Hudson’s Bay
post had eaten all the pemmican intended for the explorers, while
ten of the bags of provisions which they had secured at the latter
post proved so mouldy that they had to be thrown away. Consequently
the travellers were obliged to start out very badly equipped in the
matter of supplies. There was, however, no possibility of delaying
their departure, as Fort Chipewyan did not at the time afford
sufficient means of subsistence for so large a party. Accordingly,
the stores were distributed among the three canoes with which
Franklin had been furnished, and on July 18 he set forth on his
way with his party, which now consisted of four officers, sixteen
Canadian voyagers, two interpreters, and the redoubtable Hepburn.
At the end of the month they reached Fort Providence, where they were
met by Mr Wentzel, an agent of the North-West Company, who proposed
to engage hunters for them, and who was himself to accompany them
to the Coppermine River. Negotiations with a party of hunters under
one Akaitcho, or Big Foot, were soon satisfactorily completed, and
though the Indians were a little disappointed at learning that the
great English medicine men were unable to bring certain dead members
of their tribe to life again, a rumoured accomplishment of their new
friends on which they had founded great hopes, they were soon won
over by sundry cheap medals and other small presents, and promised
to work heart and soul for the good of the expedition. On August 2
the party set forth, now slightly augmented by an extra interpreter,
Michel, an Iroquois, Mr Wentzel and the womankind of three of the
voyagers who were to make shoes and clothes for the men while they
were in winter quarters. On August 19 they reached the spot on which
the Indians had settled as most suitable for the winter establishment.
There was now every sign that winter would be on them before long,
so Franklin set his men to work on the building of the store house,
and sent out his Indian hunters to obtain all the fresh meat that
they could. The hunters, however, proved but broken reeds. During the
expedition Akaitcho heard of the death of his brother-in-law, and
his whole party was, apparently, so overcome by the sad news that
they spent several days in wailing and lamentations, with the result
they only succeeded in killing fifteen deer. Moreover, this family
bereavement necessitated the removal of another portion of Akaitcho’s
tribe, which was to have stored up provisions on the bank of the
Coppermine, to a place miles away from the proposed route.
To complete Franklin’s discomfiture, Akaitcho absolutely refused to
accompany him on a preliminary excursion to the Coppermine, saying
that at that time of the year such a journey would be hazardous
in the extreme. After painting its horrors and dangers in highly
picturesque language, he further fulfilled his _rôle_ of Job’s
comforter by saying that if Franklin were really bent upon the
trip it was, of course, the duty of the Indians to render him all
the help that they could. He would, therefore, allow some of the
younger members of his tribe to accompany him, adding that from the
moment that they set forth he and his relatives would mourn them
as dead. In spite of Akaitcho’s pessimism, however, the expedition
returned without losing a single one of its members, and the Indian’s
lamentations were entirely wasted.
By October 20 the house was completed and the party moved in. It
was a log building, 50 feet long and 24 feet wide, consisting of a
hall, three bedrooms, and a kitchen. It was not exactly impervious
to the cold winds, for the clay with which the walls were daubed
cracked as it was put on and admitted the air freely; compared with
the tents, however, it was luxurious. The weather was now bitter,
and hunting was over for the season. The store-house was fairly
well stocked, while the carcases of eighty deer were stowed away at
various distances from the house _en cache_, that is to say, covered
with heavy loads of wood and stones so that the wolves and wolverines
could not get at them. Franklin, however, was growing very uneasy at
the shortage of ammunition and tobacco. The former was, of course,
absolutely necessary for the bare existence of the party, while the
Canadians, who were great smokers, had stipulated for a liberal
supply of the latter. The officials of the two companies, however,
had not fufilled their promises, and had failed to forward the stores
with which they had pledged themselves to provide him. The only
possible solution to the difficulty was to send some members of the
party back for the supplies, and accordingly, on October 18, Back
and Wentzel, with two Indians and two Canadians, set out on the long
journey to Fort Providence.
The first detachment of this party returned on December 23, but the
last did not put in an appearance till the middle of March, after
travelling over 1000 miles on foot. Some idea of the difficulties
which Back encountered may be gathered from the facts that he
frequently passed two or three days without taking food, and that
he was obliged to sleep in the woods with no other covering than
a blanket and a deerskin, while the thermometer stood at 40° and
once at 57° below zero. He had found that the supplies had not been
forwarded simply through the gross neglect of some of the officials
of the two trading companies. One of the Hudson’s Bay officers, for
example, being indisposed to burden his canoe with the stores which
had been entrusted to his care, had incontinently heaped them up on
the shore and left them there, quite regardless of the sufferings
that this action was likely to bring upon the expedition. Eventually,
however, sufficient supplies reached the party to place them beyond
the danger of immediate want.
The chief work of the expedition was to begin in June, and on the
4th the first party, under Dr Richardson, sallied forth from Fort
Enterprise, taking the land route northward. Ten days later a second
party started with two canoes laid on trains, intending to strike the
water at Winter Lake, which was not far distant. They were followed
almost immediately by the third party, under Franklin, which brought
with it the instruments, the remainder of the stores, and a small
stock of dried meat. The fates seemed to be against the expedition
from the very start, for when Franklin came up with the canoe party
at Martin Lake, he found that the hunters had only killed two deer,
and that though these had been placed _en cache_, they had both been
consumed by wolverines. Worse still, when he joined Richardson on
the 21st he learned that Akaitcho and his son had expended all their
ammunition and had nothing whatever to show for it. The doctor,
assisted by his two hunters, had fortunately been able to secure and
prepare 200 lbs. of dried meat, but this constituted practically all
the stores they had for their long journey.
By July 12 they had reached the boundaries of the Eskimo territory,
and the Indians, who were at constant war with these natives, refused
point blank to go any further; so all that Franklin could do was to
dismiss them, after extracting from them a solemn promise to lay in
a good stock of provisions at Fort Enterprise against their return.
A few hours later the sea was reached, and here Franklin parted with
Wentzel and two of the Canadians, thus reducing his party to twenty
men. His plan was to explore the coast as far east of the Coppermine
as possible. If the conditions allowed he would return to the river;
if not, he intended to strike north across a rocky desert known as
the Barren Grounds, and to make for Fort Enterprise. Wentzel was
requested to see that an ample supply of meat was provided at the
fort for the party on its return.
The band of twenty now found themselves at the mouth of the
Coppermine, 334 miles from their headquarters, with only sufficient
provisions for fifteen days. On July 21 they launched their two
frail canoes and set out upon the eastward voyage. It is scarcely
necessary for us to concern ourselves with the details of this trip.
That it was dangerous goes without saying, for the thin sides of
their vessels afforded but the most inadequate protection against
the masses of ice which they were constantly encountering. For five
weeks, however, they pressed onwards, taking observations and naming
all the principal capes, islands, and bays for 650 miles along the
coast. It was on August 16 when they had reached Point Turnagain,
lat. 68° 18′ N. long. 109° 25′ W., that Franklin determined that
it was time to put about. The open season was wearing on, the
canoes were in a terrible state of disrepair, and the shortage of
provisions was such as to cause serious anxiety. During the earlier
part of the voyage the interpreters, St Germain and Adam, had been
very successful with the gun, but their bags were growing smaller
by degrees and beautifully less, the fact of the matter being, of
course, that they had always regarded the expedition with strong
disapproval and were anxious to compel it to return.
Consequently the canoes put about, and, after a most perilous
journey, they entered Hood’s River on August 25. The river,
unfortunately, was too shallow and swift to allow them to proceed
further by water, so Franklin took his canoes to pieces and
constructed out of the materials two smaller canoes, each of them
easily portable. By the last day of the month these preparations were
completed, and the impedimenta, which consisted of ammunition, nets,
hatchets, ice-chisels, astronomical instruments, three kettles, two
canoes, and a tent, were divided up among the members of the party,
each of whom had to carry a burden of about ninety pounds.
For the first few days of their journey they followed the course
of the Hood, but soon the river curved westward and it was found
necessary to strike inland across the desolate Barren Grounds, whose
only recommendation was that they were comparatively flat, and that
the heavily burdened party was spared the necessity of stumbling
up hills and down valleys such as lined the course of the stream.
Apart from this, the land over which they had to journey was as
unattractive as could well be imagined. For miles and miles ahead and
on either side of them stretched a vast, stony waste, on which not a
trace of a living creature was to be seen. Of vegetation there was
little or none, wood was conspicuous by its absence, and it was only
on the rarest occasions that they were able to indulge in the luxury
of a fire. The prospect was truly most uninviting.
They had only been a single day on their journey across this
forbidding country when the terrible truth dawned upon them that
the winter had set in unusually early, and that their dangers and
sufferings were, in consequence, to be increased a hundredfold. The
first news of this was brought to them by a terrible gale which
arose in the night, and continued to blow with such violence that it
was useless for them to attempt to fight against it, and they had
no choice but to remain in their tents. For two days they lay in
their blankets, shivering with the cold and with the pangs of hunger
gnawing at them, for their provisions were now well nigh exhausted,
and they had little left but some portable soup and arrowroot, which
they were obliged to husband with the utmost care. By the morning
of the 7th the gale had abated but little, and the cold was still
intense. However, they had to choose between two alternatives.
Either they must push on in the teeth of the hurricane, or they must
be frozen to death where they lay, and the former naturally seemed
preferable. Heavily laden as they were, in the most favourable
circumstances they could only march at the rate of a mile an hour,
but now their progress was infinitely slower, for the ground was
covered a foot deep with snow, and the marshes and swamps were
crusted with a thin coating of ice which frequently gave way beneath
them.
The storm was still raging so violently that the Canadians, who took
it in turn to carry the boats, were often blown down, and the larger
of the two boats was soon smashed to pieces. From what Franklin knew
of the character of the voyagers he was inclined to believe that the
accident was by no means a mere misadventure, but that the canoe had
been broken purposely to save the labour of further transportation.
However, he could only make the best of a bad business, so he built
a fire of the fragments, and over it he cooked the last of his
arrowroot and soup.
So for many tedious days they plodded wearily on, subsisting as best
they could upon an occasional partridge and a species of edible
lichen called _tripe de roche_, which grew upon the boulders—a poor
sustenance for twenty starving men. The lichen, moreover, though it
allayed the pangs of hunger for a while, was exceedingly bitter to
the palate and positively noxious to several members of the hapless
party.
[Illustration: CROSSING THE BARREN GROUNDS
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPT. BACK]
Their physical sufferings grew more and more terrible every day.
Hunger was not the only hardship with which they had to contend, for
their course was constantly intersected by swamps through which they
had to wade, and, as the thermometer was always below freezing point,
their wet clothes were instantly frozen as stiff as boards, making
walking more painful than ever. Once or twice they were fortunate
enough to fall in with a herd of musk-oxen or a stray deer, but the
supply was totally inadequate to the demand, and for the most part
they were obliged to subsist on _tripe de roche_, which hardly a
single member of the little band could now eat without becoming ill.
On September 10 they came upon a large lake, and Franklin’s drooping
hopes were revived by the prospect of being able to supplement his
provisions with a supply of fish. To his dismay, however, he now
learnt that the Canadians, with criminal selfishness, had thrown away
the nets and burnt the floats in order to decrease the burdens which
they had to carry, an action which was all the more amazing seeing
that, in their capacity of voyagers to the trading companies, they
frequently found themselves in situations where they were obliged to
depend on fishing for their means of subsistence.
These Canadians, however, with the exception of a man named Perrault,
proved a terrible thorn in Franklin’s side from the beginning to the
end of the journey. They committed their crowning act of folly when
they destroyed the second canoe, which, though very crazy, was the
sole means of transport across the rivers and lakes. This loss was
most seriously felt when, a little later, the party came to the bank
of the Coppermine and found themselves unable to reach the other
side. Precious days were wasted in attempting to construct a raft
or to find a ford, during which time they were obliged to live on
the putrid carcase of a deer that had fallen into a cleft in a rock
in the previous spring. Rafts and fords failing, Richardson made a
gallant effort to swim the river with a line round his waist, and,
in spite of the numbing cold of the water, he almost reached the
other side. Then his strength failed him and he came within an ace of
being drowned. He was dragged ashore just in time to save his life,
but he felt the effects of his adventure till late in the following
spring. At last, after repeated attempts, the whole party succeeded
in crossing in a canoe made of the painted canvas in which they had
wrapped their bedding, but the vessel was so frail that it could only
carry one person at a time.
Back and three of the Canadians now went on ahead to search for the
Indians and to see that everything was in readiness at the Fort.
For another day the rest of the party struggled on, gaining what
sustenance they could from the lichen and their old shoes. It soon
became evident, however, that Hood and two of the Canadians, Credit
and Vaillant, were growing so weak that they could march no further,
and it was decided that the party must split up once more, and that
the weaker members must remain behind with Richardson and Hepburn to
attend to them, while Franklin and a few companions pushed on to the
Fort. In the course of the following day a small thicket of willows
was reached, and here it was decided to form the encampment. The
Canadians, however, had not been able to struggle even that far, and
had been left behind in the snow. “Some faint hopes were entertained
of Credit’s surviving the storm,” says Franklin, “as he was provided
with a good blanket and had some leather to eat.”
Hardly had Franklin started on his way when three of his voyagers,
Belanger, Perrault, and Fontano, and Michel, the Iroquois, broke
down, and had to return to the encampment in the willows. With his
four remaining comrades he marched doggedly on, and at last, to his
inexpressible relief, his destination came in sight. But any hopes
that he entertained of finding release from the sufferings of himself
and his men, were destined to be dashed to the ground, for they
stumbled into the Fort, only to find it cheerless and desolate, with
no store of provisions and no indications as to the whereabouts of
the Indians. Back had reached the Fort two days earlier, and had left
a note to say that he had gone in search of Akaitcho and his dilatory
hunters, but apart from this, there was no sign that the house had
been entered since Franklin was last there.
Words cannot describe the bitter disappointment of these brave men,
who, after their long and dogged fight against adversity, found
themselves face to face with a death no less fearful than that which
had threatened them on the Barren Grounds. With the exception of a
few deerskins which had been thrown away as offal during their former
residence at the Fort, there was nothing wherewith they could sustain
life, while the winter storms had played such havoc with the walls
and windows of the house that they let in the bitter air freely, and
the temperature of the living room ranged from 15° to 20° below zero.
There was nothing for them to do but to bear their sufferings as
best as they could, and to await relief from the faithless Akaitcho
and his hunters. That relief, however, was not destined to come yet,
for two days later, they received a note from Back, telling them
that he had been unable to find the Indians, and asking for further
instructions. Weak though he was, Franklin now felt that the time had
come for action, and he accordingly decided to set out himself for
Fort Confidence, accompanied by two of his men, Augustus, an Eskimo
interpreter, and Benoit, one of the voyagers. He had only been two
days on his journey, however, when he had the misfortune to break
one of his shoes, and was obliged to turn back to his comfortless
hut, leaving his two companions to push on as best they could. It
was, perhaps, as well that he did so, for, on reaching the Fort, he
found that the two Canadians whom he had left behind were growing so
weak that they had resigned themselves to what seemed to them the
inevitable, and had lain down to die. Franklin’s splendid example,
however, infused fresh courage into them, and by dint of the utmost
exertions they succeeded in keeping the life in their bodies,
although they were now so feeble that when a herd of deer appeared
within half a mile of them, they were quite unable to shoot them.
On the 29th, as they were crouching round a miserable fire, they were
surprised to hear voices in the next room. Their first thought was
that the Indians had at last come to their rescue. A moment later
Richardson and Hepburn entered.
The arrival of these friends brought some fresh hope to the starving
men at Fort Enterprise, for Hepburn was stronger than the rest, and
there was every prospect that he would be able to find them some
means of subsistence. But the sight of those two men standing there
alone sent a chill to Franklin’s heart. What, he asked, had become of
Hood and Credit and Michel and Vaillant? The answer which he received
on the following day was more terrible than his worst fears had led
him to anticipate. Briefly put, Richardson’s story ran thus.
On the morning of October 9, that is to say, two days after Franklin
had started off for Fort Enterprise, Michel, the Iroquois, returned
to the encampment alone, with the news that Belanger, with whom he
had started, had left him on the way. There was every reason to
suspect, however, both from the story that he told them, and from
his subsequent behaviour, that he had made away with the Canadian,
and that he had invented this tale to conceal the horrible sequel to
his crime. From this time onward his conduct became more and more
suspicious. He grew sullen and morose, he refused to go hunting, or,
if he went, he would only go by himself, taking his hatchet with him,
unlike a hunter, who only makes use of his knife when he kills deer.
“This fact,” says Richardson, “seems to indicate that he took it for
the purpose of cutting up something that he knew to be frozen.” At
last, by a culminating act, he confirmed the suspicions which had
already come to birth in the minds of Richardson and Hepburn, for, on
Sunday, October 20, when left alone with Hood, he deliberately shot
his companion through the head.
In their weak condition it was, of course, impossible for either the
doctor or the sailor to wreak summary vengeance upon the murderer,
although self-preservation demanded it. Accordingly, they buried
Michel’s victim, and on the 23rd this party of three—for none of
the others had succeeded in reaching the camp—decided to set out
for the Fort. It now became so painfully evident that the Iroquois
intended his two companions to share the fate of his former victims,
that there was only one course open to them. Accordingly, Richardson
seized on an opportunity when Michel was not expecting an attack, to
shoot him through the head with a pistol.
After six more days of indescribable sufferings they reached the
fort, only, as we have seen, to find Franklin and the Canadians
in no better a case than themselves. During the next few days the
Canadians, Peltier and Samandré, succumbed, and their friends would
inevitably have followed them before long had not help arrived on
November 7. On that day three Indians, who had been found by Back,
put in an appearance, and, though it was, of course, long before the
sufferers recovered their health and strength, their troubles were
practically at an end. They left Fort Enterprise on November 16, and,
travelling by easy stages, they reached Moose Deer Island on December
18, where they were joined by Back, who had himself gone through
a period of fearful hardship and privation during his search for
succour.
In the summer of the following year Franklin returned to England,
having accomplished a terrible journey of some 5500 miles. The result
of his observations, of course, added greatly to the world’s store
of knowledge of the then unknown regions of North America; but he
would have had a different tale to tell had not the rivalry between
the two trading companies handicapped him from start to finish.
CHAPTER VI
PARRY’S LAST NORTH-WEST VOYAGES
We must now return to Parry, who, it will be remembered, landed in
England on October 1820, after making a number of most valuable
discoveries in Lancaster Sound. The results of his voyage had been
so encouraging that the Government determined to prepare another
expedition for the following year. It was only natural to suppose,
however, that any further attempts to find a North-West passage
through Lancaster Sound would be rendered abortive by the ice, which
seemed to form an absolutely impenetrable barrier across the westward
entrance, and it was consequently decided to seek a passage by a more
southerly route, in the hope that the climate would be more temperate
and the ice less of an obstruction.
On the first expedition the _Hecla_ had proved herself an excellent
ship, but the _Griper_, owing to her poor sailing qualities, had been
less of a success. Her place was taken, therefore, by the _Fury_, to
which Parry himself was commissioned, while Captain George Francis
Lyon, an officer of great ability, who was especially noted for the
excellence of his drawings, was placed in command of the _Hecla_.
So popular was Parry that hardly had the news of his appointment been
published than he was besieged by volunteers, among them being many
members of his previous expedition. The latter included Lieutenants
Hoppner, Mias, and Reid, James Clark Ross, a midshipman who had
already had considerable experience of Arctic travel, and who was
destined subsequently to win fame for himself by the discovery of the
magnetic pole; and Mr Edwards, Parry’s former surgeon. In all, the
party consisted of 118 officers and men.
Parry set sail at the end of April with instructions to make direct
for Hudson’s Strait. Thence he was to sail westward until he should
reach some part of the mainland of North America. On striking the
coast he was to turn northward, and to examine every bay and inlet
which might seem to afford a passage to the west, thus practically
taking up the work of exploration where it had been dropped by
Captain Middleton, who, in 1742, discovered Wager Inlet, and
penetrated as far north as Cape Hope, near the entrance to Repulse
Bay.
He reached Southampton Island on April 27, and after some delay
occasioned by the ice, he succeeded in passing through Frozen Strait
and making Repulse Bay. Up till that day the precise nature of the
bay had never been determined, and it was believed by many to be in
reality the entrance to a strait. Parry, however, soon discovered
that it was actually a bay, and he accordingly turned northward in
pursuit of his quest for a western passage. The coast along which
he was now sailing was so broken that his progress was necessarily
slow, and when the beginning of October came he found himself no
further north than the entrance to Lyon Inlet. The work that he did
during those six weeks, however, though terribly tedious, was of
immense value, for he mapped out every mile of a coast-line which had
never been explored before.
It was now too late in the season for him to make much further
progress that year, so he set sail to the south-east with a view to
discovering comfortable winter quarters on the south side of Winter
Island. On October 8, after a dangerous voyage through the ice, he
found a bay which seemed admirably adapted for the purpose, and here,
accordingly, he hove too and put everything ship-shape and in order
for the long winter months.
Of the manner in which the crew beguiled their time it is unnecessary
to speak at length. The theatrical performances, which had proved so
successful on the previous voyage, were repeated, concerts were held,
and everything possible was done to ward off that archenemy of the
Arctic explorer, the scurvy. At the same time, of course, scientific
observations were carried on without intermission.
At the beginning of February a party of Eskimos put in an appearance,
and the explorers were astonished to find that a complete village had
sprung up in their neighbourhood with a rapidity which is generally
supposed to be the sole prerogative of castles in fairy stories.
The explanation was that not a single material was employed in the
construction of the huts except snow and ice. The natives proved
exceptionally friendly and rather less greedy than most of their
race. As a rule the first Eskimo word that the uninitiated traveller
is taught is “pilletay”—“give me”—which springs to a native’s lips
whenever his eyes light upon an object which he has not seen before.
The usual presentations of beads and nails formed a part of the
introductory ceremonial. The recipients of these gifts were wont
to display their gratitude in a manner that was not a little
embarrassing, for when they were given anything they went off into
fits of hysterical screaming or laughter, varied by the women with
periods of weeping.
Apart from increasing their knowledge of the habits of the Eskimos,
the explorers gained but little information that was of any value to
them, and they learned nothing of that passage to the west for which
they were seeking. One of the women was able to draw a rough map of
the coast for some miles northward of Repulse Bay, and, in attempting
to verify it, Captain Lyon very nearly lost his life in a snowstorm.
Otherwise, however, the winter was marked by no event that need be
recorded. On July 2, 1822, the two ships sailed out of their winter
quarters and pursued their journey northward.
Occasionally the work of mapping out the coast, which, of
course, occupied most of their attention, was varied by a little
walrus-hunting, which proved to be excellent sport. Some idea of
the strength of these creatures may be gathered from the fact that,
in a big battue in which they indulged on July 15, one of the boats
was seriously damaged by a walrus’s tusks, while another of the
creatures, being accidentally touched by an oar, wrenched it out of
the rower’s hand with its flippers and broke it in two. The largest
of the animals killed on that day weighed fifteen hundredweight and a
half.
In such a way as this was the whole of the summer spent, and the
arrival of winter found them as far as ever from the discovery of the
North-West Passage. Parry spent the dark months off the Island of
Igloolik, intending to continue his work during the following summer.
An outbreak of scurvy, however, compelled him to change his plans,
and, cutting short his voyage, to return to England, which he reached
early in October.
In the following year Parry started out on his third and last search
for the North-West Passage. The plan of the expedition was to explore
Prince Regent’s Inlet, but the ice was bad and the weather was
unfavourable, with the result that he had barely reached the scene
of his labours when winter set in. In the following year he was even
more unfortunate, for the _Fury_ was driven ashore in a gale and he
was obliged to leave her to her fate, taking her men and such of her
stores as he could find room for on board the _Hecla_. He had now no
choice but to return home, as, with so many mouths to feed and so
little to feed them with, he dared not risk another winter in the
ice. It is worthy of mention, however, that the stores left behind
on the ship and on the shore proved the salvation of several later
expeditions.
[Illustration: THE WALRUS AS SEEN BY OLAUS MAGNUS]
By no means the least valuable of the pieces of information brought
back by Parry was that, while the eastern coast of any land in the
Arctic regions is almost invariably encumbered with heavy ice, the
western coast is, in ordinary years, comparatively free—a discovery
of which navigators have taken the fullest advantage ever since.
CHAPTER VII
FRANKLIN’S SECOND LAND JOURNEY
In no way deterred by the terrible dangers which he had encountered
in his first journey, Franklin had scarcely returned home when he
laid before the Government a scheme for a second expedition which
was, according to his idea, to proceed “overland to the mouth of the
Mackenzie River and thence, by sea, to the north-western extremity of
North America, with the combined object, also, of surveying the coast
between the Mackenzie and Coppermine Rivers.” It was hoped at the
same time that, if Parry’s party succeeded in winning through to the
Polar Sea, the two expeditions might prove of mutual service to one
another.
Franklin’s plan found favour in the eyes of the Government, and
he was immediately appointed to the command of the new expedition
with authority to make such preparations as seemed proper to him.
Warned by his previous experiences, he resolved to run no risks, and
accordingly arranged a system of supplies which would remove all
possibility of starvation, and superintended the construction of a
number of boats which would be better able to withstand the ardours
of navigation in the Polar Seas than the birch-bark canoes which he
had previously employed.
The boats were four in number. Three of them varied from twenty-four
to twenty-six feet in length, while the fourth, which was called the
_Walnut Shell_, was nine feet by four feet four and only weighed
eighty-four pounds, being so constructed that it could be taken to
pieces and made up into five or six parcels.
The party consisted of Franklin, Lieutenant Back, Dr Richardson
(assistant-surveyor), and Mr Thomas Drummond (assistant-naturalist),
with four mariners; and their plan of campaign was to be as follows:
They were to sail to New York, and thence they were to make their way
by a series of lakes and rivers to the Great Bear Lake, where they
were to take up their quarters for the winter. As soon as the open
season began they were to divide into two parties, one of which was
to travel westward from the mouth of the Mackenzie, and, if possible,
was to round Icy Cape and meet H.M.S. _Blossom_ in Kotzebue’s Inlet.
The other was to turn eastward from the Mackenzie, and to explore
the coast as far as the mouth of the Coppermine. Having reached that
river, it was to return to the Great Bear Lake overland.
The first part of the journey was accomplished without misadventure,
and on August 7, 1825, Franklin found himself at Fort Norman on the
Mackenzie, near which point a tributary stream joins the river with
the Great Bear Lake. The season was still so open that he decided to
examine the river between Fort Norman and the sea before retiring
into winter quarters, so he sent the main body of the expedition to
the lake, with orders to erect the necessary buildings, while he and
Mr Kendall set off downstream.
They raced along with the stream at a great pace, and on August 16
they reached Ellice Island, lat. 69° 14′, long. 135° 56′. They were
now on the very shore of the Polar Sea, and to their indescribable
delight they found the ocean absolutely free from ice, and, to all
appearances, perfectly navigable.
At this point a somewhat touching incident took place. In 1823
Franklin had married a Miss Eleanor Purdon, to whom he was absolutely
devoted. While he was making the preparations for his journey his
wife fell ill, and to while away the hours of her sickness she made
him a small silken Union Jack which she gave him with injunctions
never to unfurl it until he planted it on the shores of the Polar
Sea. A few days after he set sail she died, and he received the news
of his bereavement soon after he reached America. The story of the
unfurling of her flag may be told in his own words:—
“The men,” he wrote, “had pitched the tent, and I caused the silk
Union Jack to be hoisted, which my deeply lamented wife had made and
presented to me as a parting gift, under the express condition that
it was not to be unfurled before the expedition reached the Polar
Sea. I will not attempt to describe my emotions as it expanded to the
breeze—however natural, and, for the moment, irresistible, I felt
that I had no right, by the indulgence of my own sorrows, to cloud
the animated countenances of my companions. Joining, therefore, with
the best grace that I could command in the general excitement, I
endeavoured to return, with corresponding cheerfulness, their warm
congratulations on having thus planted the British flag on this
remote island of the Polar Sea.”
Extra grog was served out to the men, and Franklin and Kendall
prepared to celebrate the event in a little brandy which they had
reserved for the occasion. Unfortunately, however, the Canadian
guide, Baptiste, had, in the excitement of the moment, provided them
with salt water instead of fresh, and they had to use the brandy in
the more classical form of a libation poured on the ground.
Franklin then erected a flag-staff, and deposited under it a letter
containing information concerning the nearest station of the Hudson
Bay Company for the use of Parry, in the event of his reaching the
mouth of the Mackenzie. This done, he set out on the return journey
to the Great Bear Lake, which he reached on September 4.
He found that the winter quarters had been completed during his
absence, and that they had already been named Fort Franklin in his
honour. The party had been increased to fifty by fresh arrivals, and,
as they would have to depend largely upon fish for their food supply
during the winter months, and it was useless to expect to catch
sufficient for so many mouths at any one spot, two additional houses
were erected, four and seven miles away. At the Fort itself fifteen
to twenty nets were kept in constant use, and fish were so plentiful
that the catches averaged from three hundred to eight hundred a day
during the summer and winter.
Only once, towards the end of the winter, was the food supply
in any danger of failing, and it was found necessary to put the
party on short rations for a while. Fortunately, however, at the
critical moment the deer put in an appearance, and Franklin was
relieved from all further anxiety. Otherwise the winter was quite
uneventful, and the party lived together in complete harmony, which
was not a little surprising considering that they consisted of such
mixed nationalities as Englishmen, Highlanders, Canadians, Eskimos,
Chipewyans, Dog-ribs, Hare Indians, and Crees.
It was on June 20 that the two parties set off from the Fort on
their voyages of discovery. It had been arranged that Franklin and
Back, with thirteen men and the Eskimo interpreter, Augustus, should
man the _Lion_ and the _Reliance_, and should explore the coast
westwards, while Dr Richardson and Mr Kendall, with ten men, should
survey the land between the Mackenzie and the Coppermine. They
dropped down the river together till, on July 4, they parted company
and started off on their respective ways.
On the 7th Franklin reached the mouth of the river, and there he
came upon a party of Eskimos encamped upon an island, with whom he
attempted to open negotiations. Things went very smoothly until the
receding tide left the boats aground. Then, however, the Eskimos,
having discovered that the boats had on board a store of wonderful
goods, the like of which they had never set eyes on before, decided
that it would be more to their advantage to lay hands on these
at once than to await the possible advantages of future trade.
Consequently, they began a spirited attack upon the boats which
lasted for several hours, and during the course of which they
possessed themselves of a considerable portion of the expedition’s
property. In warding off the attack, Franklin and his men were at
a serious disadvantage, for they knew perfectly well that if they
used their fire-arms they would eventually pay the penalty with their
lives. Fortunately, however, they were able to prevent the loss of
any of their more valuable property, such as their sails, oars,
and astronomical instruments, and early on the next morning they
succeeded in getting the boats out into deep water again.
Having at last shaken off their unwelcome visitors, Franklin and his
party continued their journey westward. On the following day they
fell in with another party of Eskimos, who proved to be more friendly
than the last, and provided Franklin with a quantity of information
concerning the coast along which he was about to travel. In the
main, they were discouraging, for they told him that, though in the
immediate neighbourhood the ice might be expected to drift away from
the shore if a southerly wind arose, further to the westward it
frequently adhered to the land throughout the whole summer, and even
if he were so fortunate as to find any channels, navigation could
not be very safe, as the ice was continually tossing about. They
expressed their surprise that the explorers had not brought with them
dogs and sledges for use when the sea route proved impossible. In
later years, of course, it was found that the plan suggested by the
Eskimos was the only one by which any material advance could be made
in the Polar regions.
Franklin, however, was not inclined to pin too much faith upon the
Eskimos’ information, as he learnt that, during the summer months,
they never wandered far from the Mackenzie, and could not, in
consequence, know very much about the condition of the more westerly
seas. So, a southerly wind springing up and carrying the ice away
from the shore, he pressed forward with such speed as the somewhat
variable conditions would allow. During the course of the next few
days he discovered and named Points Sabine and King, Herschell
Island, Canning River, and Flaxman’s Island, and on August 10 he
reached Foggy Island. On this unattractive spot the party was doomed
to remain till the 16th, for a fog came down upon them and refused
to clear away again. Fog, of course, is one of the most dangerous
enemies of the Arctic navigator, for, when his course is obscured
by it, he may be wrecked by an ice-floe before he is aware of his
danger. Consequently there was nothing for them to do but to kick
their heels on Foggy Island until more favourable weather allowed
them to proceed.
This untimely delay deprived the expedition of all hope of success.
Had they not lost those six valuable days they might very well have
succeeded in joining the advance party sent out from H.M.S. _Blossom_
in Kotzebue’s Inlet. As it was, they had no choice but to turn back
to the Great Bear Lake, which they reached on September 21.
On arriving at Fort Franklin they found that Dr Richardson, Mr
Kendall and their party had already returned, having brought their
expedition to a successful conclusion. They, too, had had some
difficulties with the Eskimos, but, apart from this, they had met
with no adventure worth recording. They had sailed steadily along
the coast, naming its principal features as they passed them.
Liverpool Bay, Cape Bathurst, Franklin Bay, Cape Parry, Dolphin and
Union Strait, and Cape Krusenstern, all owe their names to this
expedition.
It was at the last of these, which is in lat. 68° 23´, long. 113° 45´
W., and stands at the western extremity of Coronation Gulf, that they
connected the discoveries of the voyage with those made by Franklin
on his former expedition. On the following day (August 8) they
reached the mouth of the Coppermine, and there they found the remains
of the fire which Franklin’s previous expedition had made before
setting out on its journey. The river was so shallow that it was
impossible to navigate it in the boats that they were now using, so,
after dragging them out of reach of any flood and stowing away any
stores which they did not require in the tents, they began the return
journey on foot. They reached Fort Franklin on August 18 “after an
absence of seventy-one days, during which period we had travelled by
land and water 1709 geographical or 1980 statute miles.”
The winter passed without any particular incident, except some
remarkably severe frosts. Some idea of the intense cold may be
gathered from the fact that on January 24, 1827, when the temperature
was at 52° 2´ below zero, Mr Kendall froze some mercury in the mould
of a bullet and fired it from his pistol. This, however, was not
the coldest weather that they experienced, for on February 7 the
thermometer stood at 58° below zero.
During the summer of 1827 the party returned to England after an
expedition which, if it had not absolutely fulfilled the purpose
with which it had started, had certainly acquired some most valuable
information.
CHAPTER VIII
PARRY’S NORTH-POLAR VOYAGE
It is not necessary to concern ourselves much with Captain Lyon’s
subsidiary voyage of 1824. His instructions were to proceed to
Repulse Bay in the _Hecla_, and to explore the isthmus which connects
Melville Peninsula with the mainland and the coast beyond it. For
reasons best known to himself, however, he tried to reach the bay by
sailing round the south and up the west coasts of Southampton Island,
instead of taking the shorter route along the north of the island,
which Parry had always adopted. The result was that his expedition
was very nearly lost, and he was obliged to return home before he had
even reached the bay.
Nor is it necessary for us to follow Captain Beechey and the
_Blossom_ to Kotzebue Sound, where, it was hoped, they would meet
Franklin and his party. He spent part of his time in cruising as
far as Icy Cape, while the barge, which he sent forward under Mr
Elson to search for Franklin and his party, explored the coast as
far as Barrow Point—only 146 miles from Franklin’s furthest point.
Otherwise, however, nothing occurred that is worthy of note.
Passing over these, we now come to Parry’s last and, in some ways,
his greatest voyage, a voyage which opened up a new epoch in Arctic
exploration. He returned from his third journey in search of the
North-West Passage in October 1825, and in the spring of 1826 he
suggested to Lord Melville, then First Lord of the Admiralty, a plan
for reaching the North Pole by means of sledge-boats, which should
travel either over the ice or through any spaces of open water which
might intervene. The idea, it should be said, had actually originated
with Franklin, who had proposed the journey some years before, and
had offered to take command of it himself. As, however, he was now
away on his second journey through North America, Parry’s services
were retained for the expedition, which found complete favour in the
eyes of the Admiralty. He was, in consequence, commissioned to the
_Hecla_ on November 11, 1826.
In order to make the objective of the journey perfectly clear, it
will be best to quote a passage from the official instructions: “On
your arrival at the northern shores of Spitzbergen,” they ran, “you
will fix upon some harbour or cove, in which the _Hecla_ may be
placed, and, having properly secured her, you are then to proceed
with the boats, whose requirements have, under your own directions,
been furnished expressly for the service, directly to the northward,
and use your best endeavours to reach the North Pole; and, having
made such observations as are specified in your instructions for your
former voyages in the northern regions, and such as will be pointed
out to you by the Council of the Royal Society, added to those which
your own experience will suggest, you will be careful to return to
Spitzbergen before the winter sets in, and at such a period of the
autumn as will ensure the vessels you command not being frozen up and
thus obliged to winter there.”
The sledge-boats alluded to were of a somewhat peculiar construction,
and were, on the whole, very well adapted for the purpose for
which they were intended. They were flat-bottomed, and measured 20
feet long and, at their greatest beam, 7 feet broad. On a frame of
ash and hickory was stretched a sheet of mackintosh waterproofing
coated with tar. Outside this were placed first a layer of thin fir
planking, then a sheet of stout felt, and lastly a thin planking of
oak. A strong runner shod with steel was attached on either side
of the keel, while to the forepart of the runner was fixed a span
of hide-rope to be used for dragging the boat over the ice. The
equipment also included a light bamboo mast, 19 feet long, a tanned
duck sail, which could also serve the purpose of an awning, a spreat,
a boat-hook, fourteen paddles, and a steer-oar.
The expedition sailed on April 4, 1827, and on the 17th the _Hecla_
was off Hammerfest, a port on the Island of Soroe, off the Lapland
coast. Here she was to call for a number of tame reindeer which
would, it was hoped, be useful for pulling the boats along the ice.
As matters turned out, however, their services were not required.
By the middle of May they had reached Spitzbergen, and a month was
now spent in trying to find a suitable harbourage for the _Hecla_.
Most of the bays that they passed were so encumbered with ice that
it was quite impossible to reach them; but at last, on the north
coast of West Spitzbergen, they came upon a deep indentation named
Treurenburg Bay, which suited their purpose admirably. Here, then,
they made the _Hecla_ fast and prepared to start on their journey
towards the North Pole.
The boats were loaded with provisions for seventy-one days, and
on the afternoon of June 21 they began their voyage. It had been
decided to leave the reindeer behind as the ice, as seen from the
crow’s-nest, was so rough and hummocky that they could be of no
use whatever. The weather was fine and clear, the boats proved to
be thoroughly seaworthy, and in due time they passed Little Table
Island, the last piece of land which they would see for some weeks.
So long as they were travelling over the open sea their progress was
easy enough, and it was only when they reached the ice that their
difficulties began. They had expected the first part of their trip to
be arduous, and they were certainly not disappointed, for they found
that their road lay over small, rugged floes of ice, separated from
one another by pools of water. Each of these pools had to be crossed
three or four times, as it was always necessary to unload the boats
on taking them out of the water, and then, after dragging them with
infinite labour through chasms and up and down great hummocks of ice,
the men had to return to the point from which they set out for their
clothes and food. Consequently their progress was exceedingly slow
and tedious, and on the first day’s journey they only made two and a
half miles of northing.
Parry had decided to travel entirely by night, and this for various
reasons. There is, of course, no darkness at all during an Arctic
summer, but the sun was less powerful in the night, and the snow
in consequence was firmer, while the glare, which by day was so
strong as to produce inflammation of the eyes, was less oppressive.
Furthermore, by sleeping during the warmer hours, it was possible for
them to dry their working clothes, which were generally wet through
from floundering about in pools of water.
They had hoped that when they were once through this preliminary
field of broken ice they would reach a level sheet, over which
they might travel with comparative ease, but, as time went on, the
conditions seemed to become worse instead of better, for on the
morning of the 26th rain began to fall heavily, with the result that
the explorers were soon wet through, and nearly half the surface of
the ice over which they had to travel was covered with little pools.
From that time rain was almost constant, and Parry was the first to
observe that the climate of these remoter Polar regions is actually
milder than those of the northern shores of America, 7° to 15°
further south.
The rain was often varied by fog, while, to add to the difficulties
of the journey, they found that much of the surface ice over which
they had to travel was composed of needle-like crystals, placed
vertically, which, as the season advanced, afforded very poor
foothold and cut their boots and feet.
One day was very like another on that most difficult journey. The
party was usually aroused at about eight o’clock in the evening by
a lusty tar blowing a reveille on a bugle. After prayers had been
read, the men exchanged their fur sleeping suits for their walking
clothes, which were, as a rule, still soaking wet or else frozen
solid. This done, they would breakfast on cocoa and biscuits, and,
having loaded the sledges, they would set about the day’s work.
Their course underwent a good deal of variety, but it was never
anything but arduous. Sometimes they had to haul the boat by main
force over almost perpendicular blocks of ice. Sometimes they had
to toil through snowy sludge, into which they sank so deeply that
on one occasion it took them two hours to travel a hundred yards.
Sometimes the pools and channels which separated the ice blocks from
one another were not more than half a boat’s length broad, and the
provisions had to be ferried over on blocks of ice, a most anxious
proceeding, seeing that if an accident had occurred the whole party
would have been left to starve.
After anything between five and ten hours’ work, during which they
would make four or five miles, they would halt for the night, or,
to speak more accurately, for the day, and, having changed into dry
clothes, they would set about the necessary repairs, take supper, and
retire to bed.
As they proceeded northward their progress seemed to become slower
and slower. Parry had long since given up all hope of reaching the
North Pole, but he had made up his mind, if possible, to touch the
83rd parallel, and thus to win the £1000 reward offered by the
Government, but he was not prepared for the terrible disappointment
with which he met at the end of July. On the 20th he ascertained by
observation that his latitude was only 82° 36´, or less than five
miles to the northward of his situation at noon on the 17th, although
he was positive that they had travelled at least twelve miles.
During the next few days the result of the observations was always
the same, and he invariably found himself several miles south of the
point to which he believed the previous day’s journey had brought
him. He was therefore forced to the conclusion that the ice over
which he was travelling was drifting steadily southward, and that he
was losing during the day much of the ground that he had made during
the night. So, after reaching lat. 82° 45´, a point which had never
been attained before, and stood as a record for forty-five years, he
decided to turn back. He was now only 172 miles from the _Hecla_,
and of these 100 miles represented the journey over the water before
reaching the ice. But as most of the 72 miles over the ice had been
covered at least three, and sometimes five, times, the distance that
they had travelled was about 580 geographical or 688 statute miles,
almost exactly the distance from the _Hecla_ to the Pole in a direct
line.
The return journey was begun on July 27, and on August 21 they
reached the _Hecla_ without meeting with any contretemps. They set
sail for home on August 28, and on September 29 Parry went to report
himself at the Admiralty, where, curiously enough, he met Franklin,
who had returned from his North American journey on exactly the same
day.
Parry was received with enthusiasm wherever he went, and honours were
showered on him in England and on the Continent. But from that point
he leaves our narrative, for he never again sailed for the Polar
seas.
CHAPTER IX
ROSS’S ADVENTURES IN THE “VICTORY”
The idea of discovering a north-west passage, though temporarily
eclipsed by Parry’s great effort to reach the North Pole, was by no
means set aside, and in 1828, soon after the return of the Polar
Expedition, Captain John Ross approached the Government with a plan
for the long-dreamt-of route through Prince Regent’s Inlet. It will
be remembered that Ross had had some previous experience of Arctic
navigation, for in 1818 he had set out with the _Isabella_ and
_Alexander_ on a voyage through Baffin’s Bay, Parry being his second
in command. On that occasion he distinguished himself by jumping
to the conclusion that Lancaster Sound was a land-locked bay, and
possibly on account of this error the Government did not see fit to
entertain his new proposal.
Thanks, however, to the generosity of his friend Mr Felix Booth, he
was able, in 1829, to buy and fit out a paddle steamer called the
_Victory_, which had previously been used as a steam packet running
between Liverpool and the Isle of Man.
In those days, of course, navigation by steam was in the very
earliest stages of its development, and the experiment of sailing
the Arctic seas in a boat propelled by the new motive power had yet
to be tried. The disadvantages of paddles in the ice were many and
obvious, but they were minimised by an ingenious contrivance whereby
the paddles could be lifted out of the water in a minute; while the
_Victory_ was also so fitted out that she could be used as a sailing
vessel if necessary.
No sooner was the news of the preparation of the expedition made
known, than Ross received offers of service from many experienced
Arctic navigators, among them being Lieutenant Hoppner, Parry’s
former colleague, and Captain Back, Franklin’s friend and companion.
He had, however, already selected his nephew, Lieutenant James Clark
Ross, as his second in command, and he could not, in consequence,
accept their proposals.
The _Victory_ set sail on May 23, 1829, and it was soon found to
be fortunate that she had her sails to fall back upon, for the
machinery, which was of the crudest description, was constantly
getting out of working order, and, bit by bit, was ultimately
rejected and thrown away.
Lancaster Sound was reached without any serious misadventure, and
on August 10 the _Victory_ rounded Cape York and entered Prince
Regent’s Inlet. Ross then headed for the western shore, and he was
soon off the place where the _Fury_ had been lost on Parry’s previous
expedition. The weather was bad, but he eventually succeeded in
effecting a landing within a quarter of a mile of that ill-fated
spot. Of the _Fury_ herself no trace was to be seen, but the shore
was strewn with coal, while in the officers’ mess-hut, which Parry
had erected before leaving, were quantities of stores which proved
of inestimable value to the present party of explorers. The bears
had evidently been bestowing their attentions upon the contents of
the store-house, but they had been unable to make anything of the
preserved meats and vegetables which, in spite of their four years’
exposure to the weather, were in an excellent state of preservation.
The _Victory_ had been originally provisioned for a thousand days,
and as he had already drawn pretty freely upon his stores, Ross
decided to make up the deficit from the hoard left by the _Fury_.
They consequently took on board enough stores and provisions to
complete their equipment for two years and three months, and set sail
for the south.
On August 15 they passed Cape Garry, the furthest point of the coast
yet discovered. From this point onwards, of course, they devoted
themselves to mapping out and naming the principal features of the
seaboard along which they sailed; and in due course they reached what
appeared to them to be a continuous stretch of land, which they named
Boothia, in honour of Mr Felix Booth, who had equipped the expedition.
Whether it was ill luck, or whether it was a lack of perspicacity,
it is difficult to say, but certain it is that Ross seemed always to
be foredoomed just to miss the prize for which he was seeking. On
his former voyage he mistook Lancaster Sound for an inlet, and, in
consequence, the kudos which he might have gained from its discovery
went to Parry instead. But on this occasion he was even more
unfortunate, for, just before he reached Boothia, he passed Bellot
Strait, which, as Kennedy subsequently discovered, leads directly
into the Arctic Sea, the very North-West Passage, in fact, for which
he was looking. He again missed his chance, however, and, failing to
recognise it as a strait, he named it Hazard Inlet and went on his
way without the remotest idea of the discovery which he might have
made had he taken the trouble to examine the inlet a little more
closely.
Soon after this the _Victory_ fell in with the ice and her voyage
became one of the most hazardous description. Over and over again she
seemed in imminent danger of being sunk, but she always managed to
pull through, and eventually, on October 1, Ross found himself in a
bay which seemed to be designed by nature for his winter quarters.
Here, accordingly, he decided to stay and his vessel was soon put
ship-shape and in order for what ultimately proved to be the longest
sojourn ever made by an explorer in the Arctic regions till then. It
was not, indeed, until four winters had passed that the party was
able to leave this dreary quarter of the world, and even then they
were obliged to abandon their ship and take to the boats.
Very little that is worthy of note occurred during the first winter.
The monotony of the excessively dull season was, however, relieved
by the appearance of a party of Eskimos, who proved to be thoroughly
friendly, except on one occasion when they nearly assassinated half
the party because they imagined that they had caused the death of
one of the members of their tribe by witchcraft. The white men, by
the way, won their sinister reputation in a rather curious way.
One of the Eskimos had had the misfortune to lose a leg during an
altercation with a bear. The ship’s carpenter, seeing how severely
handicapped the man was, thoughtfully provided him with a wooden
leg, to the amazement and delight of himself and his fellows, who
imagined that their new friends must be possessed of some very
extraordinary powers to be able to provide the legless with fresh
means of locomotion. One of them was so fascinated by the carpenter’s
ingenuity that, having done some slight damage to one of his own
legs, he suggested that it would not be amiss if he were provided
with a new one. On being informed, however, that it would be
necessary to cut the other off first, he regarded the scheme with
less enthusiasm.
With a view to obtaining from the Eskimos such geographical
information as they might possess, Ross would frequently invite
parties of them to dinner in his cabin. They did not, however,
look upon English food with much favour. Salt meat, pudding, rice,
or sweets they regarded with abhorrence, and the only articles of
English diet that they would touch were soup and salmon, which they
would wash down with beakers of oil, wine proving not at all to their
tastes.
It was not until September 17 that the _Victory_ was floating in open
water again, but her release was destined to be short-lived, for
after drifting about for a fortnight, the explorers found themselves
frozen in again on September 30, only a few miles from the spot at
which they had spent the previous winter.
For some months it had been pretty evident, from the variations of
the compass and the dip of the magnetic needle, that they were very
near that mysterious centre of terrestrial magnetism, the North
Magnetic Pole, and Ross came to the conclusion that his present
enforced sojourn among the ice might be profitably employed in
determining the point exactly. Accordingly, at the end of May 1831,
the younger Ross set out with a party, armed with the instruments
necessary for making the discovery which had occupied the thoughts
of Parry on his earlier journey. They travelled westwards over the
Boothia wilderness, and at eight o’clock on the morning of June 1
they realised that they had discovered the object of their search.
There was nothing in the place itself to distinguish it from the
surrounding country, but the horizontal needles, which were suspended
in the most delicate manner possible, remained absolutely inactive,
while the amount of dip recorded by the dipping needle was 89° 59′,
or within one minute of the vertical.
Having come definitely to the conclusion that he was actually
standing on the Magnetic Pole, Ross hoisted the British flag and took
possession of it and of its adjoining territory in the name of Great
Britain and King William IV. He then raised a cairn of stones, in
which he buried a canister containing a record of the discovery, and
having determined the latitude to be 70° 5′ N., and the longitude
96° 43′ W., he set out on the return journey, which was accomplished
without misadventure.
It had been hoped that the _Victory_ would be able to sail for
the open sea at the end of August, and by the 27th the bay was
practically free of ice. But the travellers were once more doomed
to disappointment, for adverse winds sprang up, and before she had
travelled many miles she was driven into a small bay into which she
was promptly frozen.
By the middle of January 1832 it became perfectly obvious that if the
members of the party were ever to return to England alive they must
make a push for it; for scurvy broke out, and the health of his men
became so enfeebled that they were faced by the unpleasant prospect
of dying, one by one, in those inclement regions. Accordingly Ross
determined to abandon the _Victory_ and to take to the boats.
Experience, however, had taught him that it would be madness to
hope to make any substantial progress in the very short time during
which the sea in that neighbourhood appeared to be free from ice. So
sledges were prepared, and the winter months were spent in dragging
the boats over the ice in the direction of Fury Beach. The men
were terribly reduced in strength by illness, and the hardships of
their journey were appalling. However, it was their only chance of
surviving, and they plodded steadily on. They left the _Victory_ on
May 29, and it was not until July 2 that they found themselves on
Fury Beach, after an incredibly laborious journey which, in a direct
line, was over three hundred miles, but which, in their case, was
vastly lengthened by the fact that the combined strength of the whole
party was often only sufficient to drag one boat at a time, and they
were constantly obliged to cover each stretch of their journey two or
three times.
On arriving at Fury Beach they built themselves a house, which they
named Somerset House, and settled down to wait for the breaking up
of the ice. Once more, however, they were doomed to disappointment.
At the beginning of August they set sail for the north, and the open
sea, but they were almost immediately driven ashore again by the ice,
and though they made one subsequent attempt to escape, they met with
no better success.
There was nothing for it, therefore, but to make the best of a bad
business, and to return to Somerset House for the winter. Mercifully
there was still an abundance of the _Fury’s_ stores left, and they
were, in consequence, in no danger of starving, but it may well be
imagined that the disappointment was extreme, and that the prospect
of being obliged to spend an Arctic winter in a cabin, that was but
ill protected against the weather, was not enticing.
Their troubles, however, were approaching an end, for in the
following summer the ice cleared away from the inlet, and the
explorers were able to quit the country in which they had spent
four tedious winters. Sailing on July 14 they were picked up on the
26th by a whaler which, curiously enough, Ross himself had once
commanded—the _Isabella_, of Hull. It was only with some difficulty
that they succeeded in persuading the mate of the boat which put out
to meet them that they were not their own ghosts, for the party had
long since been given up as lost. However, this difficulty having
been satisfactorily overcome, they were taken on board, and they
eventually arrived home in the middle of October.
Ross failed in the object of his voyage, partly, perhaps, through his
own stupidity, for as we have already pointed out, he was at one time
within an ace of finding the North-West Passage. But his expedition
had most valuable results, for not only did his nephew, James Clark
Ross, locate the Magnetic Pole, but he also mapped out some six or
seven hundred miles of coast line on either shore of Boothia and he
made some exceedingly serviceable notes on the climatic conditions of
North-Eastern America.
If he has never received full credit for his work, it is, perhaps,
his own fault, for he made himself a most unpopular commander, and,
if we may judge from the persistent pessimism of his diaries, he
must have been a most depressing companion in the Arctic regions.
Consequently most of the _kudos_ has been given to his nephew, who
was, no doubt, personally responsible for the discovery of the
Magnetic Pole, but who, after all, was only a member of his uncle’s
expedition, and was acting entirely under his uncle’s orders and
directions.
CHAPTER X
BACK’S TWO JOURNEYS
The prolonged absence of Ross and his party naturally gave their
friends at home cause for the keenest anxiety. Many, believing it to
be impossible for any Englishman to survive four consecutive winters
in the inhospitable Arctic regions, gave them up for dead. There were
others, however, who, knowing of the abundance of supplies on Fury
Beach, entertained a hope that they might still be alive, and among
these was Mr George Ross, a near relative of the commander of the
_Victory_.
Mr Ross felt that, if it were possible to find a man who would be
prepared to lead an expedition through Northern America, and thence
to Fury Beach, the crew of the _Victory_ might be rescued, or, at
any rate, some definite information might be obtained concerning
their fate. Such a man was forthcoming in Captain George Back, the
companion of Franklin, both on the _Trent_ and on his two land
expeditions. It was in June 1832 that Back first heard of the
projected expedition, and he promptly offered his services, which
were as promptly accepted. So much interest did the Government take
in the enterprise that they contributed largely towards its expenses,
the rest of the necessary funds being easily obtained by public and
private subscription.
In the meanwhile, the Hudson’s Bay Company was not slow to display
its sympathy. Its agents were informed that an expedition was likely
to set out in the following spring, and were ordered to make the way
easy for it, while two boats, two canoes and 120 bags of pemmican
were placed at the disposal of Back, who was also empowered to levy
contributions of provisions and stores at any of the Company’s
stations.
The plan of campaign was to be as follows. After spending the winter
of 1833-34 at the Great Bear Lake, the expedition was to attempt the
navigation of the great and hitherto unexplored river which had its
source slightly to the east. This river was known to the Indians
by the tongue-twisting name of Thlew-ee-chon-desseth, which, being
translated, merely means the Great Fish River. Nothing definite was
known concerning it, but it was believed to flow either into the
eastern extremity of the Polar Sea or into Prince Regent’s Inlet
itself. Thence it would only be a matter of 300 miles to Fury Beach,
where, it was well known, Ross intended to call for supplies. It will
be seen that this expedition was to open up entirely new ground, and
it was hoped that Back, who was to be accompanied by Mr Richard King,
a naturalist of repute, and eighteen men, would make some valuable
scientific discoveries.
The Great Slave Lake was reached without misadventure, and as the
season was still early, Back determined to set out on a preliminary
expedition in search of the source of the Great Fish River, which
had never yet been properly located. He found that his task was
by no means light, for his way lay through a chain of rivers and
lakes, involving countless portages, while, to add to his troubles,
his interpreter fell ill and two of his Indian companions deserted.
However, on August 31 he succeeded in reaching the river for which
he was searching, and, though the season was now too late to admit
of extended exploration, he was able to find out what build of boat
would be necessary for the descent in the following year. This done,
he made his way back to the spot on the Great Slave Lake which had
been selected for the party’s winter quarters.
Here he found that the construction of their quarters was proceeding
apace. The framework of the house was already up, a fishery had been
established which was yielding a plentiful supply of food, while
Indians were already beginning to flock to Fort Reliance, as Back had
named his winter quarters. The Indians of that country, it should be
said, had an innate objection to being burdened with the sick and
aged members of their tribe, and were in the habit of entrusting them
to the care of the nearest white man, a species of dumping against
which it was impossible to take any protective measures. Consequently
Back soon found himself with a number of helpless dependants upon his
hands, who were all the less welcome because the fishery, as time
went on, did not prove an unalloyed success and the supply of food
ran rather low.
The latter misfortune was attributed by the natives simply and solely
to the evil machinations of a stone observatory which the explorers
erected at the Fort. The use of the astronomical instruments which it
contained was totally beyond their comprehension, and in consequence
they adopted what seemed to their untutored minds to be the only
rational explanation, namely that they were in some way connected
with witchcraft. This opinion was strengthened by the evidence of two
Canadian voyagers, who, having chanced to peep into the observatory
at the moment when Back and King were taking the dip of the magnetic
needle, instantly told their companions that they had caught the
white chief in the very act of raising the devil.
More than once during the winter the food supply was in danger
of failing. The party, however, was preserved from starvation by
Akaitcho, the old Coppermine chief, who put in a timely appearance
with a supply of fresh meat. Still the distress at the Fort was often
very serious, for not only was food scarce, but the winter was one
of the coldest on record. The thermometer often stood at 70° below
zero, while some idea of the difficulties attending ablution may be
gathered from the fact that, on one occasion, when Back was obliged
to wash his face at a distance of three feet from the fire, his hair
was clothed with ice before he had time to dry it.
Towards the end of April a messenger arrived at the Fort with news
that materially altered Back’s plans, for he brought with him
extracts from the _Times_ which told of the safe return of Ross
and his party. However, there was still his work of exploration to
be carried out, so at the end of June he started off for the Great
Fish River, whither carpenters had already been sent to build boats
suitable for the voyage to the sea.
The descent of the river actually began on June 27, and was one
of the most exciting trips on record. The stream was constantly
interrupted by rapids, falls, and rocks, and had not Back been
provided with a bowman and a steersman of exceptional nerve and
dexterity in Sinclair, a half-breed, and M’Kay, a Highlander,
calamity would have overtaken his party before it was very far on its
way.
A characteristic story is told of M’Kay which well deserves
quotation. At a peculiarly crucial moment, when the boat was being
swirled down one of the most dangerous rapids that the expedition had
had to negotiate, an oar broke, and the boat and its occupants were
within an ace of being hurled incontinently down an appalling fall.
The situation proved altogether too much for one member of the crew,
who began to cry aloud for Divine assistance. He was interrupted,
however, by M’Kay, who yelled at him in a voice which carried even
above the roar of the water, “Is this a time for praying? Pull your
starboard oar!”
After a most perilous voyage, during which they covered 530 miles and
negotiated no fewer than eighty-three falls, rapids, and cascades,
Back and his party reached the mouth of the Great Fish River at the
end of July. His hopes of being able to penetrate westward as far as
Cape Turnagain were, however, doomed to disappointment, for the shore
was so encumbered with ice that navigation was out of the question.
After waiting for a few days in the hope that the sea would clear
he determined to return home, so, after giving the name of King
William Land to the big island which lay opposite the mouth of the
river, he started on the homeward journey on August 21, reaching his
destination on September 17, and in the following year he returned to
England. It should be added that, in honour of this voyage, the name
of the river was changed to that of Back River.
Back was not destined to remain idle for long, for in 1836 he was
despatched by the Government to find a passage from Prince Regent’s
Inlet into the Polar Sea, if such a passage existed. According to
his instructions he was to make for Wager Inlet or Repulse Bay in
the _Terror_, which had been specially fitted out for the voyage,
and was manned by a splendid company, including Robert M’Clure, the
future discoverer of the North-West Passage, and Graham Gore, one of
Franklin’s companions on his last and fatal expedition. There he was
to spend the winter, and in the following year he was to cross the
isthmus joining Melville Peninsula to the mainland and pursue his way
towards Cape Turnagain.
Unfortunately he was not destined even to reach the scene of
operations. Before she had made Southampton Island the _Terror_
was caught in the pack, and all her captain’s efforts to set her
free again were unavailing. From this time onwards the situation
of the crew was one of perpetual peril. Northerly winds swept the
ice down upon her with terrific force, and, had she not been of an
exceptionally strong build, she must have been crushed to pieces. As
it was, her bolts started and her timbers cracked, till it was found
necessary to hold her together with chains passed under her keel.
[Illustration: THE DISRUPTION OF THE ICE ROUND THE “TERROR”
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPT. SMYTH]
As the winter wore on matters became worse, for not only did the
danger from the ice show no signs of diminishing, but scurvy broke
out, and several men died of that terrible disease. For long and
weary months the crew lived under the very shadow of death, and it
was not until the beginning of May, by which time the _Terror_ had
drifted to the mouth of Hudson’s Strait, that they dared to entertain
any hopes of ultimate deliverance. At last, however, the ice broke
away from the ship’s sides, and she was afloat once more, but in so
terribly crazy a condition that she was by no means fit for a voyage
across the Atlantic. However chain cables were passed under her and
made fast to ringbolts on the quarter deck, and, thus patched up,
she accomplished the journey in safety, reaching British waters on
September 3.
CHAPTER XI
THE DISCOVERIES OF DEASE AND SIMPSON
Meanwhile the exploration of the shores of Northern America was
proceeding apace. At the time when the _Terror_ sailed for Hudson’s
Strait the situation was this. Beechey, starting from the west, had
mapped out the coast as far as Point Barrow. No white man had yet
examined the coast from Point Barrow to Return Reef, a matter of some
150 miles. The expeditions of Franklin and Richardson, however, had
covered the whole distance between Return Reef and Point Turnagain,
but the coast-line between that point and the mouth of the Great
Fish or Back River still remained to be explored, as, too, did the
shore of the Polar Sea eastward of the Great Fish River. It was to
the last-named stretch of coast-line that the greatest importance
was attached, because it was felt that search might very possibly
reveal the existence of a waterway between Regent’s Inlet and the
Polar Sea. There being so much work to be done in this direction, in
1836 the Hudson’s Bay Company determined to send out an expedition on
its own account “to endeavour to complete the discovery and survey
of the northern shores of the American continent.” The command of
the expedition was given to two of the Company’s officers, Mr Peter
Warren Dease and Mr Thomas Simpson. Dease had accompanied Franklin
on his expedition of 1825-26, and, on account of his seniority in
the Company’s service, the command of the party was given to him.
Simpson was only a junior official, but he was a man of such immense
enthusiasm and ability that, to all intents and purposes, before many
weeks were over, he became the actual leader, and the most important
discoveries made by the expedition must really be accredited to him.
According to the official instructions, the party, which was to
consist of twelve men in addition to the two officers, was to proceed
to the Athabasca Lake, and to winter either at Fort Chipewyan or
at Fort Resolution. The summer of 1837 was to be devoted to the
exploration of the coast-line between the mouth of the Mackenzie
River, which would lead them to the sea, and Point Barrow. As soon as
winter set in the party was to make its way to the Great Bear Lake,
whence, in the summer of 1838, it was to pass down the Coppermine
River, with a view to linking up Franklin’s discoveries with those of
Back.
In pursuance of this plan Dease set out for the Athabasca Lake at the
end of July, while Simpson, who was a man of extraordinary energy,
went south to the Red River Settlement, with a view to rubbing up his
astronomy, entirely undeterred by the fact that he would have to make
the whole of his journey to the Athabasca Lake—a distance of 1277
miles—on foot, in the depth of winter, over a rugged and trackless
waste. It was to energy of this kind that he owed so much of his
success. Frequently during his subsequent trips he achieved feats
which had hitherto been regarded as absolutely impossible, while he
invariably travelled at a pace which none of his predecessors had
ever approached. He covered the whole of the distance between the
Red River Settlement and Lake Athabasca in sixty-two days; and what
makes the achievement all the more remarkable is that he invariably
insisted on “raising the road” himself—in other words, he marched on
ahead of the party to mark out the track through the snow. This task
is so exceedingly trying, that, as a rule, each member of a party
undertakes it in turn for an hour at a time.
The winter at Fort Chipewyan was very largely occupied in the
construction of the two boats that were to take the party down to
the Polar Sea. The _Castor_ and _Pollux_, as they were named, were
light clinker-built craft of 24 feet keel and 6 feet beam, carrying
two lug-sails apiece. They were duly launched at the end of May,
and on June 1 the party set out on its way down to the sea. At
Fort Norman four men were sent off to the Great Bear Lake to build
winter quarters, establish a fishery, and make all the necessary
preparations for the return of the party.
The voyage down the Mackenzie passed off without misadventure, and
on July 9 the party found itself on the shores of the Polar Sea. The
next fortnight was spent in verifying Franklin’s discoveries, but on
July 23 they reached Return Reef, and there they began to open up new
country. Fog, ice, and adverse winds now made their progress rather
slow, and Simpson feared that if the conditions did not improve they
would not reach Point Barrow before winter set in. Accordingly he
determined to make a push for it, and selecting five men to accompany
him, he started off to accomplish the rest of the journey on foot.
The weather was bitterly cold, with a biting north-east wind and a
thick fog. The coast, moreover, was intersected by countless salt
creeks, through which it was necessary to wade, and the conditions
altogether were as disagreeable as could well be imagined.
On the second day of the journey, however, when they had proceeded
about thirty miles, they had the good fortune to come upon an Eskimo
encampment. Here Simpson succeeded in borrowing an “oomiack,” or
large family canoe, which proved of such material assistance that
before long they were at their journey’s end.
The first part of their expedition was now safely accomplished, for
they had surveyed the whole of the 150 miles of coast-line between
Return Reef and Point Barrow, thus linking up the discoveries of
Beechey and Franklin. There was, therefore, nothing left for them to
do but to make the best of their way up the Mackenzie River to the
Great Bear Lake, which they duly reached on September 25.
The winter passed without any misadventure whatever. The usual
Indians, of course, swarmed to the Fort and expected to be fed by the
Englishmen. Fortunately, however, provisions were plentiful, and the
party, unlike some of the preceding expeditions, was never in danger
of starvation, in spite of the enormous appetites in which most of
its members rejoiced. The intense cold of these climates makes a
liberal supply of animal food absolutely indispensable, and the daily
ration served out to each man was 10 or 12 pounds of venison, or,
when they could be obtained, four or five whole fish weighing from 15
to 20 pounds. Even this was found insufficient by some members of the
party.
As soon as summer began Simpson and his companions set out on their
journey to the Coppermine River. Their way lay up Dease River and
across the Dismal Lakes, and, as the ice had not yet given way to the
thaw, the journey was attended by not a few difficulties. However,
with characteristic enterprise, Simpson fixed his boats firmly on
stout iron sledges, and having hoisted his sails sped away over the
lakes at a good pace, to the immense astonishment of the natives.
On reaching the Coppermine they found it greatly swollen with
the melting snow and strewn with loose ice. Delay, however, was
intolerable to the explorers, and they determined to make the best
of their way down to the sea without more ado. Navigation was
extremely dangerous, for the river went raging down between gigantic
precipices, along whose base the breakers raged and foamed with
overwhelming fury. Simpson’s account of the shooting of Escape Rapid,
which they reached at noon on the first day of their journey, is well
worth quoting as showing the sort of difficulties with which they had
to contend: “A glance at the overhanging cliffs,” he says, “told us
that there was no alternative but to run down with a full cargo. In
an instant we were in the vortex, and, before we were aware, my boat
was borne towards an isolated rock which the boiling surge almost
concealed. To clear it on the outside was no longer possible; our
only chance was to run between it and the lofty eastern cliff. The
word was passed, and every breath was hushed. A stream which dashed
down upon us over the brow of the precipice, more than a hundred
feet in height, mingled with the spray that whirled upwards from
the rapid, forming a terrific shower bath. The pass was about eight
feet wide, and the error of a single foot would have been instant
destruction. As, guided by Sinclair’s consummate skill, the boat
shot safely through those jaws of death, an involuntary cheer arose.
Our next impulse was to turn round to view the fate of our comrades
behind. They had profited by the peril we incurred and kept without
the treacherous rock in time. The waves there were still higher, and
for a while we lost sight of our friends. When they emerged the first
object visible was the bowman disgorging part of an intrusive wave
which he had swallowed and looking half-drowned. Mr Dease afterwards
told me that the spray, which completely enveloped them, formed a
gorgeous rainbow round the boat.”
They reached the shores of the Polar Sea on July 1, and here they
were doomed to disappointment. The winter had been one of exceptional
length and severity, and in consequence the shores of the sea itself
were so encumbered with ice as to make navigation almost impossible.
They pushed slowly along, but they found both Coronation Gulf and
Melville Sound completely covered with solid ice, and by August 19,
when the time was rapidly approaching for them to return, they were
still three miles short of the furthest point reached by Franklin.
There was no chance of proceeding any further in their boats, but
Simpson was determined to set foot on land which had never been
trodden by an European, so with a party of seven men he set out on
a ten days’ tramp eastward. Travelling was very painful, for the
way lay mostly over loose stones and was intersected by numberless
brooks and streams. Their labours, however, were well rewarded.
Simpson had feared from the formation of the land along which he was
travelling that the coast-line of the Polar Sea was not continuous.
On August 23, however, he reached a lofty cape, on ascending which
he discovered that in reality he had merely been travelling along
the southern shore of a strait. Beneath his feet lay an immense sea
rolling away eastward as far as the eye could reach, while to the
north he saw an extensive land to which he gave the name of Queen
Victoria Land.
After travelling a few miles south-south-east the expedition was
obliged to start on their way back, the five days allotted to the
outgoing journey having now expired. On the 29th they rejoined the
rest of the party at Boathaven, and on September 4 they began the
journey up the Coppermine. Hitherto the ascent of the Coppermine by
boat had been considered impossible. Simpson, however, determined
to prove that the reverse was the case, and with infinite labour he
succeeded in towing the boats safely up all the rapids. On September
5 they reached a spot about four miles below the junction of Kendal
River, which they considered to be the nearest point to Fort
Confidence. Here, accordingly, they dragged the boats out of the
water, and leaving them high and dry in a wood, they made their way
back to their winter quarters on foot, reaching their journey’s end
on September 14.
There everything had been got in perfect readiness for the long
winter. The buildings had been put in order, a quantity of dried
venison had been purchased from the Indians, and several thousand
fish had been caught and cured. Consequently they were in no danger
of want, and spent their time in comparative comfort until June
brought a release from the frost. As soon as it was possible they
set off for the point on the Coppermine at which they had left the
_Castor_ and _Pollux_, and in due time they reached the Polar Sea.
In the first week or so their progress was rather slow. The season
was, however, far more open than was that of the preceding year
and, on reaching Coronation Gulf, they found it, to their great
delight, perfectly navigable. From that point they pushed on apace.
On the night of the 20th they stopped at Boathaven, and thence,
helped by a favouring wind, they ran rapidly along the west coast
of Kent Peninsula to Cape Franklin, which they reached exactly a
month earlier than Simpson’s party had reached it in the preceding
year. Here again they were favoured by fortune, for they found
an open passage of water, two miles wide, along which the boats
bowled merrily. They reached Cape Alexander on the 26th, and then,
rounding the eastern extremity of Kent Peninsula, they ran along the
shore which they had been previously obliged to traverse on foot,
discovering and naming Melbourne Island and Roxborough Cape as they
went.
On the 10th they entered the strait which is now called by Simpson’s
name, and it was then that they realised that they were on the verge
of linking up Franklin’s discoveries with those of Back, for the
rapid rush of the tide from the east told them that they were about
to enter the open sea into which the Great Fish River disgorged its
waters. On the 13th all doubts on this point were set at rest for, on
rounding a very sharp cape, they saw before them a sandy desert which
they knew to be Back’s Ogle Point.
By reaching the estuary of the Great Fish River they had practically
accomplished the objects of their expedition. Simpson, however, was
by no means disposed to rest upon his laurels, and he determined
to make an effort to discover whether or not the North American
continent was linked to Boothia Felix or whether a strait connected
the Boothia Gulf with the Arctic Sea. Accordingly, with his wonted
energy, he selected three volunteers and set off on a short voyage
of exploration in one of the boats. He was not destined, however, to
succeed in his search, for on the 20th adverse winds compelled him
to take shelter in a small river, which he named after the _Castor_
and _Pollux_. To attempt to proceed any further would have been
foolhardy, and might well have resulted in the loss of the entire
party. Accordingly, having decided his position as lat. 68° 28´ N.,
long. 94° 14´ W., he turned back and reached Cape Britannia, where
Dease had remained, on August 20.
They decided to vary their homeward journey by sailing along the
coast of Victoria Land, which had never, of course, been explored.
They made its nearest point, which they named Cape Colborne, on
September 6. The 7th and 8th were spent in sailing across two great
bays, to which they gave the names of Cambridge and Wellington Bays,
and on the 9th they were nearly opposite Cape Franklin, the shore of
the American continent being then about twenty miles away. On the
following day they made for Cape Barrow, having explored some 156
miles of the new country.
The ascent of the Coppermine was difficult, as winter had now set
in, and the ice on the rocks afforded very poor foothold to the men
who were towing the boats. The journey was, however, accomplished
in safety, and on September 25 they reached Fort Confidence. Thence
they passed on to Fort Simpson, where the leader of the expedition
proposed to spend the next few weeks in writing up the account of his
voyages and discoveries. These were completed by December 2, on which
date he set out for his own station at Red River Settlement, which he
reached on February 2, having travelled 1900 miles on foot in those
sixty-one days.
This was destined to be the last journey which the indefatigable
young traveller undertook, for within a few months he was lying in
his grave. The exact circumstances which led to the tragic death of
one of the most brilliant and enthusiastic explorers England ever
possessed have never been properly ascertained, and no one ever knew
whether he was murdered or whether he committed suicide.
Briefly put, the story is as follows: The Governor of the Hudson’s
Bay Company at that time was a relation of the explorer, who was not,
however, too well disposed towards him. Though the expedition had
accomplished great things, it seems that Governor Simpson thought
that it ought to have accomplished more; and in one of his letters to
its leader he expressed his regret that the party was not prepared
to spend another year in the Arctic regions, with a view to pushing
its discoveries on in the direction of Fury and Hecla Strait. As the
younger Simpson had already told him in one of his letters that his
men were utterly worn out and his provisions exhausted, the tone
adopted by the Governor seems to have been distinctly unreasonable.
That his relative was perfectly prepared to prosecute his researches
still further was obvious from an offer which he made to lead another
expedition north in the following year, with a view to surveying
Boothia Felix, and, if possible, to passing through Fury and Hecla
Strait, and so making his way to Hudson’s Bay. This offer was,
however, entirely ignored by Governor Simpson, who, indeed, gave the
young explorer to understand that, if another expedition were fitted
out, the command would be given to someone else.
Simpson was very much hurt by the Governor’s attitude, and wrote him
a somewhat strong letter upon the subject, with the result that he
was ordered to repair to England immediately. The controversy seems
to have affected the explorer’s health very seriously indeed, and it
is obvious from some of the letters that he wrote to the Governor
that he was suffering from great mental excitement. Had he but known
it, there was every prospect of his continuing his excellent work
as an explorer, for a letter which he had written to the directors
of the Hudson’s Bay Company suggesting a fresh voyage of discovery
through the Gulf of Boothia had been very favourably considered by
them, and they wrote him a formal reply appointing him to the command
of a fresh expedition within a few days of the date on which he set
out on his homeward journey from the Red River Settlement.
He took leave of his friends on June 6, 1840, and started off in the
direction of St Peters with a party which consisted of James Bruce of
the Red River Settlement, a father and son of the name of Legros, and
John Bird. Bruce’s sworn testimony as to the events which took place
on the journey is to the following effect. On June 14 Simpson seemed
to be restless and ill. He frequently expressed a desire to return
to the Red River Settlement, and urged the others to go with him. He
did not appear to be suffering from any particular complaint, but he
wished, nevertheless, to consult a physician, and told his companions
that he feared that he could not live much longer. Towards the
evening Bruce, Bird, and the elder Legros were engaged in pitching
the tent, standing with their backs to their leader. Suddenly Bruce
heard the report of a gun, and looking round, he saw that Simpson
had shot Bird, who fell dead upon the spot. Simpson then turned his
gun upon the elder Legros and fired at him, wounding him mortally,
though death did not ensue immediately. When they were sufficiently
recovered from their horror and amazement, Bruce and the younger
Legros approached Simpson, who told them that it had come to his
knowledge that Bird and Legros had formed a plot to kill him during
the night for his papers, and that he had only acted in self-defence.
Before he died Legros denied the existence of any such plot, and to
this day it is not known whether or not Simpson had any ground for
his suspicions.
The young explorer was still standing with his gun in his hand, and
Bruce and the younger Legros, fearing, apparently, that they might
share the fate of their comrades, mounted their horses and rode back
to find another and larger body of travellers whom they had left on
the previous day, and who were encamped a few miles back. On reaching
their friends they gave the alarm, and having been joined by five
men they returned to the scene of the murders. As they reached the
cart near which Simpson had been standing, they called him by name.
The only answer that they received was the report of a gun and the
whistle of a bullet. That Simpson had shot himself was the inevitable
conclusion, but, with a view to frightening him if he should be
still alive, they fired their guns as they approached the cart. The
precaution was unnecessary, however, for, on drawing nearer, they
found that Simpson had shot himself through the head. The bodies of
the three men, Simpson, Legros, and Bird, were there and then buried
in the same grave.
Such is the story as told by Bruce, but it is impossible to vouch for
its truth as there was no corroborative evidence, the younger Legros
never having been examined. Having regard to the state of Simpson’s
health at the time, it is more than probable that he really believed
that he was only acting in his own defence in shooting Bird and
Legros. But whether he died by his own hand, or whether he was shot
by Bruce or one of the party who returned with him, it is impossible
to say.
CHAPTER XII
FRANKLIN’S LAST VOYAGE
The failure of Back’s expedition in the _Terror_ to accomplish
anything of importance proved so discouraging to the Government that,
for a while, they desisted from any further attempts to discover
the North-West Passage, and turned their attention to the Antarctic
instead. The brilliant success of Dease and Simpson’s journey along
the shores of the Polar Sea, however, had the effect of giving a
fresh impetus to the public interest in Arctic exploration; so,
when the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ returned from their voyage to the
Antarctic, the authorities listened favourably to the representations
of the Royal Geographical Society and of a number of men of science
who were interested in the work, and decided to fit them out again
for an expedition to the Polar seas.
For the last seven years Franklin had been acting as Governor of
Tasmania, but he returned at about the time when the new expedition
was under discussion, and it was naturally felt that, as senior
Arctic explorer, he ought to be given the command. Lord Haddington,
then first Lord of the Admiralty, was at first rather chary of
offering it to him, thinking that, after his long and brilliant
career, he might well wish to spend the rest of his days in peace at
home. “I might find a good excuse for not letting you go, Sir John,”
he said, “in the rumour that tells me you are sixty years of age.”
“No, no, my lord,” exclaimed Franklin, “I am only fifty-nine!” So to
everyone’s delight the appointment was duly made.
The _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were fitted out for the service with all
the most modern appliances. Provided as they were with engines of
twenty horse-power and auxiliary screws, they were the first Arctic
vessels to put the discovery of steam to practical use, for the
engines of the _Victory_, as we have seen, were so crude that they
had to be discarded. Naturally enough the authorities were flooded
with applications for appointments to the ships, and they were able,
in consequence, to select some of the most able officers in the navy
for the service, among them being Commander Fitzjames, who had been
through the China War; Crozier and Graham Gore, who had served under
Parry and Ross; Fairholme, Hodgson, and Des Vœux.
Franklin’s official instructions were to pass through Lancaster Sound
with all possible despatch, wasting no time in examining openings to
the northward, and, after reaching Cape Walker, to turn southward and
eastward with a view to finding his way to Behring Strait. Should
neither of these two routes prove practicable, he was to go northward
up Wellington Channel in the second summer.
The two ships sailed from the Thames on May 19, 1845, and were soon
well on their way up Baffin Bay. Most of what we know of the early
part of the voyage we owe to Commander Fitzjames, a delightful
correspondent, who, in a series of letters to Mrs Coningham, gave
some character sketches of his companions which are well worth
preserving. Here is a passage which refers to Franklin. “I like a man
who is in earnest. Sir John Franklin read the church service to-day,
and a sermon, so very beautifully that I defy any man not to feel the
force of what he would convey. The first Sunday he read was a day or
two before we sailed, when Lady Franklin, his daughter, and niece
attended. Everyone was struck with his extreme earnestness of manner,
evidently proceeding from real conviction.... We are very fond of
Sir John Franklin, who improves very much as we come to know more of
him. He is anything but nervous or fidgety; in fact, I should say
remarkable for energetic decision in sudden emergencies, but I should
think he might be easily persuaded where he has not already formed a
strong opinion.”
Here is a note on the purser. “I have just had a game of chess with
the purser, Osmer, who is delightful.... I was at first inclined
to think that he was a stupid old man, because he had a chin and
took snuff; but he is as merry-hearted as any young man, full of
quaint, dry sayings, always good-humoured, always laughing, never a
bore, takes his pinch after dinner, plays a rubber, and beats me at
chess—and he is a gentleman.”
The subject of the next sketch to be quoted is Harry Goodsir, the
assistant-surgeon of the _Erebus_, who, though still young, was
already well known as a naturalist of more than ordinary ability.
Before taking up his appointment to the expedition he had been
curator of the Edinburgh museum. “I can’t make out,” says Fitzjames,
“why Scotchmen just caught always speak in a low, hesitating,
monotonous tone of voice, which is not at all times to be understood;
this is, I believe, called ‘cannyness.’ Mr Goodsir is ‘canny.’ He
is long and straight, and walks upright on his toes, with his hands
tucked up in each jacket pocket. He is perfectly good-humoured, very
well informed on general points, in natural history learned, was
curator of the Edinburgh museum, appears to be about twenty-eight
years of age, laughs delightfully, cannot be in a passion, is
enthusiastic about all ’ologies, draws the insides of microscopic
animals with an imaginary pointed pencil, catches phenomena in a
bucket, looks at the thermometer and every other meter, is a pleasant
companion and an acquisition to the mess.”
Crouch, the mate, “is a little black-haired, smooth-faced fellow,
good-humoured in his own way; writes, reads, works, draws, all
quietly; is never in the way of anybody, and always ready when
wanted; but I can find no remarkable point in his character, except,
perhaps, that he is, I should think, obstinate. Stanley, the surgeon,
... is rather inclined to be good-looking, but fat, with jet-black
hair, very white hands, which are always abominably clean, and
the shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he
would not mind cutting off one’s leg immediately—if not sooner.”
Graham Gore, the first lieutenant, is “a man of great stability of
character, a very good officer and the sweetest of tempers. He plays
the flute dreadfully well, draws sometimes very well and sometimes
very badly, but is altogether a capital fellow.”
The expedition was probably the happiest and the most united that
ever set out from England, and some of Sir John’s kindly spirit seems
to have been infused into all the members of the party. As an example
of the good feeling which pervaded the whole crew, a little story
concerning Osmer, the purser, may be quoted from Fitzjames’s diary.
It occurred when the ships were off the Danish settlement of Disco, a
spot where the scenery is grand but unutterably bleak and desolate.
Fitzjames happened to go on deck at midnight, and there he found
Osmer indulging in a little _pas-seul_. “What a happy fellow you
are!” exclaimed Fitzjames, “always in a good humour.” “Well, sir,”
said the purser, “if I am not happy here, I don’t know where else I
could be.”
The first few days of July were spent off Disco, taking in supplies
and generally making the last preparations for the Arctic journey.
At this time the prospects of success seemed to be unusually bright.
The season at Disco was the mildest and earliest ever known, and, in
their last letters home, the officers asked their relations, in jest,
to address their future correspondence to Petropaulovski, a seaport
beyond the Behring Strait, on the coast of Asiatic Russia.
There is a passage in one of these letters, written by Lieutenant
Fairholme, which we cannot refrain from quoting, as it forms the last
tribute to Franklin that was penned during his life. “On board,” it
runs, “we are as comfortable as it is possible to be. I need hardly
tell you how much we are all delighted with our captain. He has, I
am sure, won not only the respect, but the love of every person on
board by his amiable manner and kindness to all, and his influence
is always employed for some good purpose, both among the officers
and men. He has been most successful in his selection of officers,
and a more agreeable set could hardly be found. Sir John is in much
better health than when we left England, and really looks ten years
younger. He takes an active part in everything that goes on, and his
long experience in such services as this makes him a most valuable
adviser.”
On July 12 Franklin wrote his last official letter to the Admiralty.
“The ships,” he says, “are now complete with supplies of every
kind for three years; they are, therefore, very deep; but happily
we have no reason to expect much sea as we proceed farther.... It
is unnecessary to assure their lordships of the energy and zeal of
Captain Crozier, Commander Fitzjames, and the officers and men with
whom I have the happiness of being employed on this service.”
On the same day the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ sailed away north-west
up the Waigat Strait. On the 26th they were sighted by the whaler
_The Prince of Wales_, moored to an iceberg near the south entrance
to Melville Bay, waiting for a favourable opportunity to round the
middle ice and enter Lancaster Sound. The master of the whaler,
Captain Dannett, was invited to dine with Sir John on the following
day, but a favourable breeze sprang up, and the ships parted company.
Captain Dannett was the last white man to set eyes on the ill-fated
_Erebus_ and _Terror_.
CHAPTER XIII
RAE AND THE BOOTHIA PENINSULA
In order to preserve the chronological order of events, it is now
necessary to leave the Franklin expedition for a while, and to take
up the thread of the exploration of Northern America where it was
dropped by Dease and Simpson. It will be remembered that shortly
before his untimely death Simpson had written a letter to the
Governors of the Hudson’s Bay Company, suggesting that he should
conduct an expedition along the undiscovered shores that lay between
the Castor and Pollux River and Fury and Hecla Strait. Though he was
destined never to know it, the plan was very favourably received by
the directors, and their letter, conferring on him the sole command
of the expedition, reached America very shortly after his death.
The immediate result of this sad event was that all plans for
prosecuting the exploration of Northern America were held in abeyance
for some years—till, indeed, 1845, when the news that England was
fitting out a fresh expedition, with a view to discovering the
North-West Passage, urged the Company on to further efforts. The
command of the new expedition was offered by Sir George Simpson, who
was still Governor-in-Chief of the Company’s territories, to Dr John
Rae, then new to Arctic exploration, though he subsequently proved
his worth, not only by the success which he achieved on the present
journey, but also by the good work that he did in his search for
Franklin.
The plan of campaign arranged by the Company differed materially
from that originally propounded by Simpson. Simpson had proposed to
travel eastward from the Castor and Pollux River and, after surveying
Boothia Felix, to make his way, if possible, to Hudson’s Bay. Rae’s
expedition, on the other hand, was to set out from Hudson’s Bay
and to make its way up Rowe’s Welcome to Repulse Bay. There it was
to cross the isthmus connecting the Melville Peninsula with the
mainland, which, if the Eskimo stories were to be believed, was not
more than three days’ journey, and, on reaching the sea on the other
side, it was to push on till it had reached the point where either
Ross or Dease and Simpson had left off. It must be remembered that
at this time it was not known whether Boothia Felix was an island or
a peninsula. If it proved to be the former, Rae was to make his way
through the passage that divided it from the mainland and so into the
Arctic Ocean. If the latter, he was to travel up its western shores
until he reached some point that had been visited by the Rosses in
the _Victory_.
The journey was likely to prove adventurous, for there was no degree
of certainty that the party would be able to obtain sufficient
provisions to keep them from starving. Rae was only to take two small
boats with him, so that it would be impossible for him to equip
himself with any great quantity of food, and he would be obliged to
depend on such poor supplies as the barren country had to offer. As,
therefore, it seemed more than probable that the party would have to
face the unpleasing alternatives of being either starved or frozen to
death, he had some difficulty at first in obtaining volunteers.
On June 1846, however, the preliminary difficulties having been
overcome, Rae, with ten men, set out from York Factory. His boats,
which were named the _North Pole_ and the _Magnet_, were strong,
clinker-built craft, 22 feet long by 7 feet 6 inches broad. In
addition to the ordinary equipment, he carried an oiled canvas canoe
and one of Halkett’s air-boats which had never been tried on one of
these expeditions before, and proved eminently satisfactory.
The first part of the journey was necessarily slow, as in many cases
the sea was still blocked with closely-packed ice, which needed
careful negotiation. On July 24, however, the boats rounded Cape Hope
and entered Repulse Bay, where the original exploration was to begin.
On landing in Gibson Cove, they came upon a party of Eskimos, from
whom they learnt the good news that the isthmus was not more than
forty miles across, and that over a full thirty-five miles of this
distance a chain of lakes afforded a waterway.
On the following morning the ladies of the tribe paid Rae a state
visit. “They were all tattooed on the face,” he writes, “the form
on each being nearly the same, viz. a number of curved lines drawn
from between the eyebrows up over the forehead, two lines across
the cheek from near the nose towards the ear, and a number of
diverging curved lines from the lower lip towards the chin and
lower jaw. Their hands and arms were much tattooed from the tip of
the finger to the shoulder. Their hair was collected in two large
bunches, one on each side of the head, and, a piece of stick about
ten inches long and half an inch thick being placed among it, a
strip of different-coloured deer-skin is wound round it in a spiral
form, producing far from an unpleasing effect. They all had ivory
combs of their own manufacture, and deer-skin clothes with the hair
outwards; the only difference between their dresses and those of the
men being that the coats of the former had much larger hoods (which
are used for carrying children), in having a flap before as well
as behind, and also in the greater capacity of their boots, which
come high above the knee, and are kept up by being fastened to the
girdle.” Curiously enough, one of these women had visited the _Fury_
and _Hecla_ twenty-three years before, and among her most prized
possessions were some beads which Parry had given her.
With immense labour the boats were dragged up the stream which
connects Repulse Bay with the chain of lakes, and the serious work
of the expedition began. Rae found that he had not been misled by
the stories of the Eskimos, and by August 1 he was on the shores of
Committee Bay, the southernmost arm of Prince Regent Inlet. His first
hope was that he would be able to sail round the bay and survey its
shores. Ice and fog, however, rendered this quite impossible, so he
decided, as there seemed to be no chance of the ice breaking up that
season, to turn back to Repulse Bay and to hope for better luck in
the following summer.
Game, fortunately, was plentiful at that time of the year, and the
doctor, who was an enthusiastic sportsman and an excellent shot,
soon relieved his party of any dread that they might have of death
from starvation. The sporting-book for September showed that 63
deer, 5 hares, 1 seal, 172 partridges, and 116 salmon and trout were
brought into Fort Hope—the name given to their winter quarters—while
in September he accounted for 69 deer. Fuel, however, was exceedingly
scarce, and, as bitterly cold weather set in in the middle of
October, the party was put to no small inconvenience. At first the
frost was hailed as an unmixed blessing, for it hardened the wet
clay with which the walls of the house had been dressed, and made
the place weatherproof. Anything that was at all damp, however, was
instantly frozen solid, and when Rae attempted to open some books
which had been lying on a shelf, he found their leaves a solid mass.
As fuel grew scarcer, the doctor forbad its use for any purpose
except cooking, and a member of the party who wished to dry his wet
clothes was obliged to take them to bed with him. The evaporation
arising from them always froze on the blankets, which in consequence
generally sparkled with hoar frost.
Almost the only form of exercise which the party was able to take
was an occasional game of football on the snow. These games were
not unattended by difficulties, for the snow was so hard that
several pairs of heels were usually to be seen in the air at the
same time, while the air was so bitter that the players were obliged
to rub their faces continually in order to prevent them from being
frost-bitten. A part of the time was also spent by the men in
mastering the art of building snow houses after the Eskimo fashion,
an accomplishment which proved of inestimable service to them later
on when they were engaged in the exploration of Boothia and Melville
Peninsula.
At this time the Eskimos of the neighbourhood engaged a good deal of
Rae’s attention. They appear to have been an extraordinarily hardy
race, who suffered no inconvenience even in the bitterest cold. On
one occasion he found a member of the tribe engaged in repairing
the runners of his sledge. “The substance used,” he writes, “was a
mixture of moss chopped up very fine, and snow soaked in water, lumps
of which are firmly pressed on the sledge with the bare hand, and
smoothed over so as to have an even surface. The process occupied
the man nearly an hour, during the whole of which time he did not
put his hands in his mits, nor did he appear to feel the cold much,
although the temperature was 30° below zero.” On another occasion
he paid a visit to their camp, where he acquired the interesting
intelligence that it was their custom to strip off all their clothes
before retiring to bed even in the depth of winter. They kept their
huts comparatively warm, however, by an ever-burning lamp, and Rae
observed with some astonishment that, during the visit in question,
his waistcoat thawed. That article of his attire had been frozen
solid some time before by the congelation of his breath, and had
had no opportunity of returning to its normal condition in his own
comfortless quarters.
On April 5 Rae started off on his second journey across the isthmus
which now bears his name, his object being to explore the western
shores of Committee Bay and to discover whether any waterway led
westward from it to the Arctic seas. With the details of the journey
we need scarcely concern ourselves, for it was not enlivened by any
incident of special interest. It will be sufficient to say that his
efforts were attended by complete success, for on April 18 he reached
Lord Mayor’s Bay, the most southern point reached by Ross, thus
completing the discovery of the southern and western shores of Prince
Regent’s Inlet, and proving that Boothia was a peninsula.
Having duly taken possession of the newly-discovered country in the
name of the Queen, he set out on the return journey to Fort Hope,
which he reached on May 5. The eastern shores of Prince Regent Inlet
still remained to be explored, and as the season was early, Rae
decided to waste no time in setting about that part of his task.
Accordingly he only rested at Fort Hope for a few days, and then,
taking with him four men and a good supply of provisions, he set off
again. By May 27 they were close to Cape Ellice, which is within ten
miles or so of Fury and Hecla Strait. The journey, however, had been
exceedingly exhausting and food was running short, so Rae decided
that it would be madness to attempt to push his exploration any
further. Accordingly the party turned homewards again and arrived
at Fort Hope early in June, tired and very thin, but in excellent
spirits. They finally reached York Factory on September 6, after a
most successful journey, in the course of which they had discovered
several hundred miles of unknown coast-line and had considerably
reduced the area in which the North-West Passage must be sought.
CHAPTER XIV
THE FRANKLIN SEARCH BEGUN
It was in the summer of 1847 that serious doubts concerning the
safety of the Franklin expedition were first entertained and the
Government decided to take steps towards its relief. As we have
already seen, the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were last sighted in
Lancaster Sound, and there was no means of knowing in what direction
they had sailed from that day onwards. Accordingly, it was thought
best to send out relief parties from the east, through Lancaster
Sound, from the west, through Behring Strait, and from the south, to
search the northern shores to America.
The first of these to start was that which was to attempt to meet
Franklin by way of Behring Strait. The _Herald_ (Captain Kellett), a
survey ship of 500 tons was already near the scene of action, and it
was decided to reinforce her with the _Plover_, a store ship of 213
tons, under Commander Moore, and to send these two ships on a voyage
round the North American coast to the Mackenzie River.
The _Plover_ proved herself to be a very poor sailor, and it was
not until June 1849 that the two ships met at their appointed
rendezvous in Kotzebue Sound. Here they were joined by the _Nancy
Dawson_, a small yacht owned and commanded by Mr Robert Sheddon,
who had sailed north with a view to taking part in the search. The
three ships sailed north in company, and, on reaching Wainwright
Inlet, despatched three boats, filled to the brim with provisions
and commanded by Lieutenant Pullen, on the long journey to the
Mackenzie River. Mr Sheddon determined to accompany Lieutenant Pullen
for a part of his journey, but the _Herald_ and _Plover_ sailed
on and explored the waters to the north of Behring Strait. Beyond
discovering the two islands which now bear their names, however, they
accomplished but little.
By September 2 the two government ships and the _Nancy Dawson_
were all lying in Kotzebue Sound, where it had been decided that
the _Plover_ should spend the winter. After supplying the wants of
her companion ship, the _Herald_ sailed away south with the _Nancy
Dawson_, reaching Mazatlan, on the coast of Mexico, at the beginning
of October. Mr Sheddon, who had been in failing health for some time,
did not survive the winter.
In the meanwhile, Moore, of the _Plover_, opened up communications
with the natives round Kotzebue Sound in the hope that he might
obtain tidings of Franklin. The result was that circumstantial
tales concerning white men travelling in the interior, were poured
into his ears, and, in attempting to verify these, Bedford Pim very
nearly lost his life. Neither then, however, nor in the summer, when
the _Herald_ and _Plover_ made a cruise round the coast, could they
discover that these stories had any foundation in fact, nor did their
search give them any reason to suppose that Franklin and his party
had approached the shores along which they were sailing.
Lieutenant Pullen’s boat expedition to the Mackenzie met with no
better success. Cramped up in open boats which were in constant
danger of being wrecked by gales or the drifting ice, he and his
men suffered tortures from cold and exposure, and the difficulties
and dangers of their 1500-mile journey were enhanced by the
unfriendliness of the natives. The winter was spent at the various
stations of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and, in the following spring,
Pullen set out again for the shores of the Polar Sea. The conditions,
however, were such as to preclude any possibility of success, and
he was obliged to turn back before he had even reached the point at
which his search proper was to have begun.
The conduct of the first overland journey was entrusted to
Richardson, who, with Rae as his lieutenant, was commissioned
to search the coast of North America from the Mackenzie to the
Coppermine. The Polar Sea was reached without misadventure, but from
that point onwards the journey proved dangerous and difficult, as
owing to the lateness of the spring they were obliged to cache their
boats and make a great part of it on foot. In the following year
Rae returned to the mouth of the Coppermine only to find that the
natives had discovered the boats and had broken them up for the sake
of the copper fastenings. Any sea voyage was, therefore, out of the
question, and, after cross-examining the Eskimos and sweeping the
shores of Wollaston Land with a telescope, he was obliged to return
to headquarters at Fort Confidence.
The first two attempts at conducting the search through Lancaster
Sound were not a conspicuous success. Sir James Clark Ross started
off in the _Enterprise_ and _Investigator_ and explored most of
Prince Regent Inlet and the northern gulf of Boothia, but without
obtaining any clues to Franklin’s fate, while, in the following
year, Saunders, who was sent out in the _North Star_ with provisions
for Ross, was caught in the ice and never succeeded in reaching his
destination.
In 1851, however, the search was prosecuted with far greater vigour,
and no fewer than five expeditions left British and American shores
almost simultaneously. Of these, the Government sent out two, one
consisting of four ships, the _Resolute_ and the _Assistance_, with
their steam tenders, the _Pioneer_ and the _Intrepid_, commanded by
Captain Horatio Austin, with Captain Ommaney, Lieutenant Osborn, and
Lieutenant Cator under him, and the other of two whalers, the _Lady
Franklin_ and the _Sophia_, under William Penny, a whaler of great
repute, who, it was hoped, would meet with rather more success in
battling with the ice than did his predecessors, Ross and Saunders.
Two private expeditions also set out from England, one of them,
the _Prince Albert_, having been equipped by Lady Franklin, while
the other, the _Felix_, was placed under the command of Ross. The
American expedition consisted of the _Advance_ and the _Rescue_, with
Lieutenant De Haven at the head of affairs.
Unfortunately, all of these expeditions had one common objective—to
pass up Lancaster Sound and examine the shores of Wellington Channel,
the south-east entrance to which they reached almost simultaneously.
It was now that the first traces of the missing explorers were found,
for, going ashore on Beechey Island on August 23, Ommaney discovered
signs that a party of white men had encamped there, and Penny,
examining the spot four days later, came upon the graves of four men
belonging to the _Erebus_ and _Terror_. In addition to the graves
there was a hut, some pieces of rope of the pattern used in the Navy,
and such miscellaneous odds and ends as torn mits, fragments of
writing paper, meat-tins, and coal-bags, but, search as they would,
they could find no sign of any written document such as might give
some hint as to the direction which Franklin had taken on leaving his
winter quarters. At Cape Riley again traces were found in abundance,
but no information of any value was forthcoming.
Leaving his companions to follow up these discoveries, Forsyth
instantly made his way back to England. De Haven also intended to
return home, but the ice intervened, and the American ships were
firmly beset before they had left Wellington Channel. From that time
onwards their experiences were much like those of the _Terror_.
Drifting northward with the ice, they were carried up to Grinnell
Land, which had never been sighted before, and then, the drift
changing to the south, they were borne down Wellington Channel along
Lancaster Sound, and into Baffin Bay, till, after covering a distance
of over a thousand miles in this fashion, they were finally released
in July.
There was now nothing for the other three parties to do but to find
winter quarters, whence they might prosecute the search as soon as
spring made it possible for them to send out sledging parties. The
_Lady Franklin_, the _Sophia_, and the _Felix_, therefore, put into
Assistance Bay, at the south end of Cornwallis Land, while Austin and
his squadron made for Griffith Island, where they were frozen in in
September.
It was Penny’s special duty to explore the shores of Wellington
Channel, and, as soon as the worst of the winter was over, he and
Petersen started out with this end in view. As they pushed northward,
they became more and more convinced that the channel led into a
great open sea, and they had already determined to pursue their
investigations further in this direction as soon as summer should
have released the ships, when, to their amazement, on rounding
a headland, they came upon a great channel of water, stretching
away for at least twenty-five miles to the northward, and probably
further. Racing back to the ship with all possible speed, they
obtained a boat and succeeded in dragging it over the ice to the
scene of their discovery. Unfortunately, however, contrary winds and
drifting floes made it impossible to proceed any further, and they
were obliged to turn back without exploring the water-way and its
shores.
[Illustration: BOATS AMONG THE ICE
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPTAIN BACK]
In the meanwhile Austin was pushing on his work with tremendous
vigour, and to him and to his able junior officer, M’Clintock,
must belong the credit of bringing the art of sledging to a higher
pitch of perfection than had ever been attained before. The autumn
was spent in establishing depots of provisions along the routes
which were to be followed in the spring, and in examining the
southern shores of Cornwallis Land in the hope that some traces of
Franklin might be found there. It was in the middle of April that
two great sledge parties started out under Ommaney and M’Clintock
to pursue the search to the south and east. Ommaney discovered
and explored the northern shores of Prince of Wales’ Land, which
lay in the route where Franklin had been instructed to seek for the
North-West Passage. He found, however, that the sea was so shallow
and the ice so old that by no possibility could the _Erebus_ and
_Terror_ have approached the shores. During his sixty days’ absence
from the ship he covered 480 miles and explored 205 miles of new
coast. M’Clintock’s objective was Melville Island, which had not
been visited since Parry wintered there, but, though he covered 770
miles during his eighty-one days’ absence, he found no trace of the
explorers. Other parties sent out from the ships made important
geographical discoveries, but, so far as the main object was
concerned, their efforts were as fruitless as were those of the two
big sledge expeditions.
As soon as the ice broke up, Penny approached Austin with a
suggestion that one of his steam tenders should explore the northern
half of Wellington Channel. Austin, however, did not think that any
useful purpose would be served thereby, and, as he was not prepared
to spend another winter in the ice the whole squadron returned home.
In the same summer the _Prince Albert_, which, it will be remembered,
had sailed for home with tidings of the discovery of Franklin’s first
winter quarters, set out once more under the command of Captain
Kennedy, with a French volunteer, Lieutenant J. R. Bellot, as second
in command. It was while he was examining the northern shores of
Prince Regent’s Inlet that Kennedy’s career was very nearly brought
to an untimely close, for, with four companions, he became separated
from the ships, and for a long time there seemed no prospect of his
being able to rejoin her. Fortunately, he found that the stores which
Ross had left at Somerset House in 1832 were in good condition, and
there he and his companions remained for six weeks, at the end of
which time Bellot succeeded in rescuing them. In the spring the two
officers made a brilliant sledge journey, in the course of which
they discovered that Brentford Bay was really a strait—which Kennedy
promptly named after his companion—and travelled round the whole
coast of North Somerset. In spite of their efforts, however, they did
not light upon a single trace of Franklin and his men.
CHAPTER XV
THE VOYAGES OF COLLINSON AND M’CLURE
It will be remembered that, in organising the Franklin search, the
Government determined to send out expeditions from three points of
the compass, east, west, and south. The first group was to follow
in Franklin’s tracks, the second was to attempt to meet him by way
of Behring Strait, and the third was to search the North American
coast in the hope that he might have found his way thither. As we
have seen, the _Herald_ and _Plover_ had already been sent to Behring
Strait, but the authorities felt that there was ample room for
another expedition in that direction, so in 1849 they refitted the
_Enterprise_ and _Investigator_, and, putting them under the command
of Captain Richard Collinson, C.B., and Captain J. Le Mesurier
M’Clure, they despatched them on this hazardous service. Though
Collinson was nominally leader of the expedition, M’Clure actually
became its central figure, and it is with his doings that we shall
have principally to deal.
M’Clure was a fine seaman and a man of indomitable courage, but, as
we shall see presently, he possessed almost more than his fair share
of that peculiarly British quality of never knowing when he was
beaten, and he came near, in consequence, to sacrificing the lives of
every member of his expedition.
The two ships set sail from the Thames on January 10, 1850, but early
in February they parted company, and did not meet again till they
reached Magellan Bay, though, curiously enough, they had crossed the
line on the same day. On the evening of the day on which they left
the Bay they were separated by a gale, never to meet again.
The _Investigator_ was rather the better ship of the two, and she
entered Behring Strait considerably in advance of her companion.
Here M’Clure fell in first with the _Plover_ under Commander Moore,
by whom he sent a message home to England saying that he was making
for Banks Land and was provisioned for three years, and later with
the _Herald_. Kellett, who commanded the latter ship, told him that
nothing had yet been heard of the _Enterprise_, and ordered him to
await her arrival in accordance with his official instructions.
This plan, however, by no means commended itself to M’Clure, so,
signalling back “Important duty; cannot on my own responsibility,”
he sailed on his way. Kellett ought, no doubt, to have insisted on
M’Clure obeying orders, but he was very awkwardly situated. He knew
that the _Investigator_ was on its way to succour Franklin, and that
a winter’s delay might ruin its chances of success, and, naturally
enough, he did not like to incur the grave responsibility of stopping
her in her work of humanity.
The main pack was sighted on August 2, but M’Clure was fortunate
enough to find open water to the south of it, and he was soon round
Point Barrow and sailing in waters which had never been travelled
by a ship before. Navigation was very far from easy, for the sea
was covered with detached floes which, driven onward by the wind,
came charging down upon the ship with tremendous force, setting her
aquiver from stem to stern, and often endangering the safety of her
masts.
Whenever it was possible M’Clure sent parties ashore to erect cairns
and to open up communications with any natives that they might find.
From these he gleaned one valuable piece of information, namely, that
they had never before seen a “big oomiak” like the _Investigator_.
The _Erebus_ and _Terror_, therefore, could not have reached these
shores.
After passing Return Reef navigation became more perilous than
ever, owing to the innumerable shoals composed of driftwood and
the deposits of the neighbouring rivers. On one occasion the
_Investigator_ went aground and lay for some time in imminent danger
of being crushed to matchwood by the drifting floes. With all
possible speed, a liberal supply of provisions was transferred to the
boats, one of which unfortunately capsized and sixteen casks of salt
meat went to the bottom. The loss was very severely felt later on.
Sailing with great care and circumspection, M’Clure succeeded in
reaching Cape Parry. Here a south-easterly wind sprang up which
cleared the sea of ice and gave him an open way to the north, of
which he was not slow to take advantage. In a few hours the welcome
cry of “land on the port bow” rang out, and Banks’ Land came in
sight. At first there was some doubt as to what this new land might
be. Some thought that it was a continuation of Wollaston Land,
others held that it was a part of Banks’ Land. In his uncertainty
M’Clure gave it the name of Baring Island, but when, later on, it
was found to be the southern extension of the land sighted by Parry
from Melville Island in 1819-20, its original name was, of course,
retained.
McClure’s delight was completed when he found a perfectly
open channel extending along the shores of the new land in a
north-easterly direction. Up this channel he sailed, hardly daring
to hope what was actually the truth, that this was the North-West
Passage. His doubts were not, however, to be set at rest immediately,
for thirty miles from the point at which the channel joins Barrow
Strait his career was summarily checked by a barrier of ice which
there was no penetrating, and all that he could do was to make up his
mind to spend the winter where he was.
The early days of October brought with them the exceedingly
unpleasant discovery that 500 lbs. of preserved meat were putrid
and only fit to be thrown away. A little later, an examination of
his stores showed him that another 424 lbs. were unfit for food,
bringing the loss up to nearly a thousand pounds, in addition to the
sixteen casks of salt meat which had fallen into the sea earlier in
the voyage. The matter was especially serious as he had assured the
Admiralty that he was fully provisioned for three years.
However, there was nothing for him to do but to make his crew forget
the misfortune as quickly as possible, so he set about sending out
expeditions along the shores of Prince of Wales’ Strait, as he had
named the channel which he had just discovered, and through Banks’
Land. It was during one of these that he actually discovered the
North-West Passage and so earned the ten thousand pounds offered
by the Government. This event took place on October 26th, when
M’Clure, having ascended a high hill found that, as he had hoped,
Prince Albert Land trended away to the eastward, while Banks’ Land
terminated in a low promontory about twelve miles from the point on
which he stood. Away beyond the northern entrance to Prince of Wales’
Strait he gazed across the frozen waters of Melville Sound, in which
Barrow Strait terminates.
The dark days of winter passed away without misadventure, and, with
the return of spring, M’Clure decided to send out sledge parties in
search of Franklin. Few of those whose lot is cast in warmer climates
can realise the dangers and discomforts of a long sledge journey in
the Arctic regions. Sherard Osborn knew them well, and he gives so
eloquent a description of them that we may quote it for the benefit
of the uninitiated.
“If they should feel cold,” he writes, “they must be patient, for
until their return to the ship they will have no fire to warm them.
Should their parched tongues cleave to their mouths, they must
swallow snow to allay their thirst, for water there is none. Should
their health fail, pity is all that their comrades can give them, for
the sledge must move on its daily march. If hungry, they must console
themselves by looking forward to being better fed when the travelling
is over, for the rations are, necessarily, in sledge journeys,
weighed off to an ounce. In short, from the time they leave the
ship till their return to it, the service is ever one of suffering
and privation, which call for the utmost endurance and most zealous
energy.”
Three parties were sent out, which surveyed the coasts of Banks’
Land and Prince Albert Land, but their labours were fated to be
unrewarded, for not a trace of the missing expedition could they
discover.
As soon as the thaw released him, M’Clure naturally made an effort
to complete the North-West Passage. Ice and contrary winds, however,
rendered it impossible for him to make his way through Prince of
Wales’ Strait, so he put about and determined to try to find a
passage round the western coast of Banks’ Land, and so into Melville
Sound. At first all went well, but when he reached lat. 73° 55′, the
highest point that he had yet attained, he was once more brought to
a standstill. The channel of open water became narrower, the coast
became more dangerous, and towering hills of ice hemmed them in on
every side, threatening the ship with instant destruction.
At one time M’Clure feared that he would be obliged to spend the
winter in this desolate situation, but fortunately a southerly wind
arose which drove the ice off the shore and allowed him to proceed
on his way. Weeks of valuable time had been wasted in the pack, and
there was now nothing for him to do but to look for suitable winter
quarters, which he eventually found in Mercy Bay.
Although, dreading lest his stay in the Arctic regions might be
prolonged indefinitely, M’Clure found it necessary to put his men
on rather short rations, the winter was passed comfortably enough,
and, as soon as spring came round, he set out with seven men across
the icepack to Melville Island in the hope that he might find
another of the search expeditions stationed there. To his intense
disappointment, all that he discovered was M’Clintock’s record of
his visit of the previous year. Of ships or human beings there was
not another trace. Fortunately for himself he left a notice there
describing the position of the _Investigator_ in Mercy Bay, and this
ultimately proved his salvation.
When he returned to his ship he found that matters were not going too
well with his men. They had, it is true, been fairly successful with
their hunting, but scurvy had broken out and Dr Armstrong already
had thirteen patients in his care. Worse, however, was to come, for
July brought no sign of the desired thaw. Ice still choked the bay,
thick ice covered the sound, and an ominous blink glowed in the sky.
Early in September the frost once more had the bay in its grip and
the unfortunate men realised that they were destined to spend a third
winter in the ice.
M’Clure was now faced by a very difficult problem. In the first
place, his pride and his sense of duty bade him to save his ship,
which was still in perfect condition. In the second place, he felt
that he could hardly ask his men to stay by him on the chance of
release in the following summer. His solution of the problem cannot
be regarded as entirely satisfactory. Calling his men on to the
quarter deck one day in the early winter, he told them that he had
decided that, as soon as spring came round, he would send away half
of the crew in two divisions. One of these was to make for the mouth
of Prince of Wales’ Strait, where he had left a boat, and thence to
the coast of America, while the other was to march for Wellington
Channel, where, he hoped, that they would be picked up by a whaler.
Armstrong knew that the men were quite unfit for such a journey, and
told his commander so in no uncertain terms, but without producing
the least effect. M’Clure was an incurable optimist and never could
be induced to believe that his men were not capable of performing
the impossible, so, with a view to ensuring a fairly adequate supply
of provisions for the travelling parties, he cut down the rations
once more. The result was that the whole crew lived in a state of
perpetual hunger. The scurvy patients grew worse and those who had,
up to the present, remained healthy, sickened rapidly. To add to
their discomforts, the winter was one of the coldest on record, and
on one occasion the thermometer registered ninety-nine degrees of
frost.
Unfit though his men were for the service he contemplated for them,
M’Clure set about making the final preparations for the expeditions.
These were sufficiently extraordinary to startle even Dr Armstrong,
accustomed as he was to his leader’s vagaries, for M’Clure informed
him one day that it was his intention to dispatch the weaker half of
the crew from the vessel and bade him make the necessary selection.
Armstrong could only do as he was told, and, with a sad heart,
he picked out thirty of the most scorbutic members of the ship’s
company, and told them off into two divisions of fifteen each. As a
final protest against what he evidently considered to be little short
of murder, he and his assistant, Mr Piers, recorded in a letter their
conviction that the men could not survive such a journey. This,
however, had as little effect as his earlier representations.
Early in April the gloom that had settled upon the ship was deepened
by the first appearance of death, for one of the seamen, John Boyle,
fell a victim to scurvy after only one day’s illness. Fortunately,
however, the clouds were soon to break, for, while M’Clure and
Lieutenant Haswell were superintending the work of hewing a grave for
Boyle out of the frozen earth, they were amazed to see a strange man
coming towards them across the ice. So far as they could tell he was
no member of their own crew, and their astonishment was increased
when he began rushing across the ice, flinging up his arms and
shouting wildly.
“In the name of God, who are you?” cried M’Clure, when he came within
speaking distance.
“I’m Lieutenant Pim of the _Resolute_, now at Dealy Island,” was
the answer, “and I’ve come to relieve Captain M’Clure and the
_Investigators_.”
At first the men could not believe the evidence of their senses, but
all doubts were set at rest when Pim’s sledge, with the two men who
had accompanied him, and a supply of provisions put in an appearance.
It seemed that M’Clure’s record at Winter Harbour had been found, and
that Kellett, fearing that the _Investigator_ might be still detained
in the ice, had sent off Pim as soon as the conditions permitted, to
bring its crew relief if they needed it. The journey had lasted a
full month, and he only arrived just in time, for two or three days
later the unfortunate sledge parties were to have started off on
their terribly forlorn hope.
On April 8, M’Clure, accompanied by an officer and six men, set
out on the return journey to the _Resolute_ leaving orders for the
two sledge parties to follow him. By some unaccountable oversight,
however, he omitted to put the men who remained behind on full
rations, and two more lives were lost in consequence.
Even now M’Clure’s excessive optimism had not deserted him, and, on
reaching the _Resolute_, he told Kellett that the twenty men still on
board the _Investigator_ were quite well able to bring her home or to
endure another winter in the ice if necessary. Kellett, however, had
seen the condition of the men who composed the sledge-parties, and
was altogether disinclined to agree with the gallant captain on this
point. He accordingly arranged that his own surgeon, Dr Domville,
should proceed to the _Investigator_, and, after joining Dr Armstrong
in a medical survey of the crew, should make an unbiassed report
thereon. There could only be one result. The two doctors found that
none of the men were entirely free from scurvy, while many of them
were very seriously ill. M’Clure, however, was by no means disposed
to yield without a struggle. Accordingly he called the men on deck,
and asked if any of them were prepared to volunteer for further
service. Only four of them stood forward, so he had to yield to the
inevitable.
The ship was cleaned and put in thorough order, and, after M’Clure
had examined her for the last time, and had addressed a few words
to the men, which according to Armstrong, were not particularly
complimentary, the _Investigator_ was abandoned on June 3. Lieutenant
Cresswell and several members of the expedition joined the _North
Star_ at Beechey Island, and were finally conveyed to England by
H.M.S. _Phœnix_ during the summer of 1853. Those who remained on
board the _Resolute_ and _Intrepid_ were destined to spend yet
another winter in the ice, but they eventually reached home in safety
during the autumn of 1854. The ships themselves, however, had to be
abandoned, the crews being taken on board the _North Star_, which was
still in the neighbourhood.
It is worthy of mention that in May, 1854, a party was sent from the
_Resolute_ to report on the condition of the _Investigator_ in Mercy
Bay. It appeared, from the condition of the ice, that she had not
been released during the summer, and that M’Clure and his men would
have perished had they remained on board.
The expedition, though it resulted in the discovery of the North-West
Passage, cannot be regarded as an entire success. It must be
remembered that it was sent out to take part in the Franklin Search
and not to add to the world’s store of geographical knowledge. The
coast of Bank’s Land was examined, it is true, but had not M’Clure
been so possessed of a desire to complete the passage himself, he
would probably have accomplished a great deal more.
Collinson’s voyage in the _Enterprise_, if less sensational than
M’Clure’s, was really far more remarkable, not only for the brilliant
manner in which he conducted it, but also for the fact that, though
he did not know it, he was the first of the search parties to
approach the spot where the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ had been lost.
Passing Cape Lisburne a fortnight later than M’Clure, and not knowing
whither the _Investigator_ had gone, he examined the pack for a
short distance and then sailed south to Hong-Kong, where he spent
the winter. As soon as the conditions permitted he returned to the
scene of his labours and rounded Point Barrow on the last day of
July. Entering Prince of Wales’ Strait, he succeeded in following
it almost to its mouth, but, as he had already learnt from a record
left by M’Clure that his junior officer had discovered the North-West
Passage, and that there was, in consequence, no object in his
proceeding further in that direction, he turned south again and found
winter quarters in Walker Bay.
Sledging expeditions were sent out during the autumn and spring
to look for the _Investigators_ and to try to discover traces of
Franklin, but in neither object did they meet with any success. The
_Enterprise_ was released in August, 1852, and, having explored
Prince Albert Sound, Collinson set his course eastward along the
coast of America, and eventually reached the east end of Dease
Strait, where he spent the next winter.
It was during a sledging expedition in the following spring that
he came nearest to the discovery of the remains of the Franklin
expedition, for on May 10 he stood on Gateshead Island and looked
across the strait to King William Land, where lay the skeletons of
the lost sailors. Had M’Clure only seen fit to remain with his leader
more might have been accomplished, for it would have been possible
to send out stronger sledging parties and to examine that part of
the coast more thoroughly. Moreover, on board the _Investigator_ was
the only interpreter which the party possessed, and Collinson was,
in consequence, unable to learn the origin of an engine rod which
he obtained from the natives. It is practically certain, of course,
that this was a relic of one of the ill-fated ships, as also was a
hatch-way which was found on Finlayson Island.
On being released from his winter quarters, Collinson turned westward
again and spent his last winter in the Arctic regions off Flaxman’s
Island, whence he returned to England in the following year.
His voyage was unquestionably one of the most remarkable in the
whole history of Arctic exploration. In a sailing ship of none too
good a quality he succeeded in covering a distance within the Arctic
circle which has only once been excelled, and that by a steamer, the
_Vega_. He came within fifty-seven miles of completing the North-West
Passage, the nearest approach on record; and of all the Government
expeditions sent out he came nearest to bringing the Franklin search
to a successful conclusion. His name ought to rank high in the annals
of Arctic travel, and it is to be feared that he has never really
received his just due.
CHAPTER XVI
BELCHER AND THE FRANKLIN SEARCH
We now come to one of the strangest chapters in the whole history of
the Franklin search. That Sir Edward Belcher’s expedition, the last,
and in every way the most complete equipped by the Government, was a
fiasco it is quite impossible to deny. At the time public feeling ran
very high about it, and Belcher became the object of much opprobrium,
more, probably, than he actually deserved. The fact, however, that
five valuable ships had been abandoned, apparently unnecessarily,
that not a single trace of Franklin had been found, and that the
search was given up, although its field had been so narrowed down
that the direction which the missing expedition had taken was
practically a matter of certainty, naturally rankled in the breasts
of the British taxpayers. Belcher himself, too, added fuel to the
fire by writing a singularly fatuous account of his travels which is
largely composed of stories illustrative of his own preternatural
sagacity.
We do not propose to dwell at very great length upon Belcher’s
monumental work, much of which, indeed, is absolutely unintelligible
to the average mind; but it contains one or two gems which ought to
be preserved.
He imagined himself to be the happy possessor, among other things, of
a marvellous gift of prophecy, very nearly, as he naïvely remarks,
approaching to sorcery. In support of this claim he mentions the
following incident in his diary.
“To-day I felt so perfectly satisfied that a sledge was due from
Kellett (if he existed), that I fully intended when the master
reported noon, to desire him to send a person to look out on the
hill. It escaped me, being then engaged on other matters; but my
clerk coming in, reporting, ‘A dog sledge nearly alongside, sir!’
my reply, instigated by what was then passing in my mind, was very
short, and without emotion, ‘I know it,’ which somewhat astonished
him.” Parenthetically, we may remark that this is a very fair example
of the author’s style as well as of his gift of prophecy.
Here, too, is a delicious passage which contains several bulls of the
finest dimensions. “I ascended the hill, where I had ordered a cairn
to be built; possibly it was deemed too steep for younger blood;
we built three, _one was a house_, the two others were constructed
by myself—the last being on the _inaccessible_ summit of True Star
Bluff—and unattended. I must say that I would not have _ordered it
to be done by any but a volunteer_.” The italics are our own; the
English, however, is entirely Sir Edward Belcher’s.
But we must return to the expedition itself, resisting the temptation
to quote further examples of its leader’s unconscious humour. The
Government was evidently disposed to leave no stone unturned to
make it as complete as possible. The active work of the search was
to be pushed on from four ships, the _Assistance_, Commander G. H.
Richards; the _Resolute_, Captain Henry Kellett; the _Pioneer_,
Lieutenant Sherard Osborn; and the _Intrepid_, Commander F. L.
M’Clintock. In addition to these, the expedition was provided with
a depôt ship, the _North Star_, commanded by Lieutenant Pullen. The
plan of campaign was to be as follows: On reaching the western end
of Lancaster Sound the squadron was to divide into two parts. The
_Assistance_ and its tender, the _Pioneer_, were to devote their
attention to Wellington Channel, while the _Resolute_ with its
tender, the _Intrepid_, was to visit Melville Island and explore the
Parry Islands. For some reason known only to themselves, the Arctic
committee had decided that it would be useless to pursue the search
south of these regions.
The rendezvous at Beechey Island was reached without misadventure,
and the two divisions immediately set off in their several
directions, leaving the _North Star_ behind. Kellett, with the
_Resolute_ and _Intrepid_, sailed direct for Winter Harbour, which he
had intended to make his headquarters. He was disappointed, however,
to find it entirely blocked with ice, and he was compelled, in
consequence, to moor his ships in a bay between Dealy Island and the
mainland, which was found to answer his purpose admirably. No sooner
were the preparations for the winter completed than the work of
sending out sledge parties began. He was fortunate in having several
excellent officers under his command, among them being Lieutenants
Mecham, Bedford Pim, and Hamilton, the mate, Mr Nares, who commanded
the great Polar expedition of 1875, and De Bray, a French volunteer.
The brief autumn days were spent not in the serious work of the
search, but in forming depôts of provisions at points where it was
thought that they would be most useful on the long spring journeys,
and it was during one of these that Mecham visited Winter Harbour and
found the paper that M’Clure had left there during the spring of the
same year, recording the detention of the _Investigator_ in Mercy Bay
and the discovery of the North-West Passage.
The winter passed uneventfully enough, but as soon as the first
signs of the advent of spring appeared, the ship was alive with
preparations for the sledge journeys. One of the first to be sent
out was that which Lieutenant Bedford Pim conducted in search of
the _Investigator_, but as we have already dealt with that, it is
unnecessary to dwell upon it again here. Nor is there very much to be
said concerning the parties led by M’Clintock of the _Intrepid_, and
Mecham and Hamilton of the _Resolute_. By exploring the Parry Islands
thoroughly they added greatly to the world’s store of knowledge
concerning those regions, but one sledge journey in the Arctic
regions bears a very strong family likeness to another, and these
differed from their predecessors in no important essentials. Some
idea of the vigour with which the work was pushed forward, however,
may be gathered from the following figures. During the autumn and
spring M’Clintock, the greatest of all Arctic sledgemen, covered 1661
miles in 145 days, Mecham, 1375 miles in 117 days, Roche, 1039 miles
in 79 days, Nares, 980 miles in 94 days, Domville, 739 miles in 77
days, and De Bray, 642 miles in 62 days. Altogether, the various
parties covered about 8558 miles, most of which had never been
traversed by a white man before.
Early in August, 1853, the ice began to loosen, and Kellett,
realising that nothing further could be done in these regions so
far as the Franklin search was concerned, decided to sail for
Beechey Island. He was not destined, however, to get very far, for
on September 9th the ships were caught in the pack, and were soon
so firmly embedded in it that there was no prospect whatever of
escape during that season at any rate. The outlook, however, was
not unpromising, for the ice, after drifting eastward for a while,
soon became stationary, and Kellett found himself in a position
which pointed to an early escape during the following summer. It
was disappointing, of course, especially for those members of the
_Investigator’s_ crew who were on board, but, as they had been so
fortunate as to obtain an ample supply of game, there was no prospect
of starvation.
[Illustration: FAST IN THE ICE
FROM A SKETCH BY LIEUT. BEECHEY]
Early in the spring of 1854 Kellett decided to send out three
sledge parties, one under Krabbe, to report on the condition of the
_Investigator_, another under Hamilton to open up communications
with Sir Edward Belcher, and the third under Mecham to explore
Princess Royal Islands, in Prince of Wales’ Strait. Of these three
the last was by far the most remarkable. In the face of immense
difficulties, Mecham and his men made their way to Princess Royal
Islands, and there they found records left by Captain Collinson of
the _Enterprise_, which, it will be remembered started out with, but
was soon separated from the _Investigator_. From these records
they learnt that Collinson had passed up the strait as far as Point
Peel, had turned back and had passed the winter of 1851-52 in lat.
71° 36′ N., long. 117° 41′ W. The records went on to say that the
north and south shores of Prince Albert Land had been thoroughly
explored, that several parties had visited Point Hearne, on Melville
Island, and that the ship had left with a view to exploring a passage
which, it was supposed, separated Prince Albert Land from Wollaston
Land. Having obtained this intelligence, Mecham resolved to return at
once to the _Resolute_. On reaching Dealy Island, however, he found
orders to make for Beechey Island, which he accordingly proceeded to
do, arriving there on June 12, after an extraordinary journey of 70
days during which he and his men had covered 1336 miles.
It is now time to return to the fortunes of Sir Edward Belcher and
the _Assistance_. It will be remembered that when Kellett sailed
away westward, Belcher and his two ships turned northwards with the
intention of exploring Wellington Channel. Fortune favoured them and
they passed without difficulty first up Wellington and then through
Queen’s Channel to Northumberland Sound, on the west side of Grinnell
Peninsula. Belcher soon found himself at the entrance to the Polar
Sea, and his voyage resulted in the discovery of Belcher Channel,
which links up Queen’s Channel with Jones’ Sound. He did not push
his explorations very far, however, for, having received dispatches
telling him of the rescue of the _Investigators_, he suddenly
turned back presumably with the intention of intercepting Kellett
at Beechey Island. He did not succeed in reaching his proposed
destination, for, when about fifty miles from the mouth of Wellington
Channel the _Assistance_ was caught in the ice.
Early in September Sherard Osborn set out with dispatches for Beechey
Island. On his return he brought news of the arrival of H.M.S.
_Phœnix_, commanded by Captain Inglefield, and of the sad death of
Lieutenant Bellot who had volunteered for service on the _Phœnix_,
which was sent out with supplementary stores for the _North Star_.
Bellot, it appeared, had started off for the _Assistance_ with a
number of official letters for Sir Edward Belcher. On the way, while
travelling over the ice, he had suddenly and completely disappeared,
and it was supposed that he had met his death by slipping down into a
crevice between two hummocks.
During the winter Belcher indulged in another fit of prophecy, in the
course of which he foresaw that he would shortly receive orders from
England to abandon his ships and make the best of his way home. He
accordingly decided to anticipate these commands, and immediately set
about making preparations for quitting the vessels in the spring. His
orders came upon his officers like a bolt from the blue. Having no
idea that he contemplated any such step, they had carefully husbanded
their provisions, and, as their men were, on the whole, in excellent
health, they could see no reason why an attempt to extricate the
ships should not be made during the summer. Belcher, however, secure
in his faith in his prophetic instinct, was as adamant, and nothing
that they could say could move him from his purpose. Accordingly,
early in May the four ships were put in order and the crews,
regretting bitterly the step which they were compelled to take, bade
them a last farewell. In accordance with Belcher’s orders, they met
on the _North Star_ at Beechey Island, and there they were eventually
found by the two transport ships, the _Phœnix_ and the _Talbot_.
The abandonment of these five vessels created much unpleasant feeling
in the country. Not only did it entail a serious financial loss,
apparently unnecessarily, but it also discouraged the Government
from taking any further steps towards the discovery of the fate
of Franklin and his expedition. In the middle of October, a court
martial was held with a view to sifting the matter thoroughly.
M’Clure and Kellett were first tried on the charge of abandoning the
_Investigator_ and the _Resolute_, but they were naturally enough
acquitted, as they were able to show that they were acting under the
orders of their superior officer. Their swords were returned to them
with sundry graceful compliments by Admiral Gordon, the president of
the court. Sir Edward Belcher was also acquitted, but with an implied
rebuke, a rebuke which was pointed by the return of his sword in dead
silence.
Most of the ships were never seen again. The _Resolute_, however,
drifted 1000 miles through Barrow Strait, Lancaster Sound and
Baffin Bay, and was eventually found off Cape Dyer by Captain J. M.
Buddington, an American whaler. Buddington brought the ship safely
to the United States’ port of New London, where she was promptly
purchased by the American Government for $40,000. She was then
refitted, the ship’s stores, flags, officer’s libraries and her
other appointments were restored to their original positions and she
was presented to the Queen and the people of Great Britain as a token
of goodwill on the part of the American nation.
CHAPTER XVII
RAE’S JOURNEYS OF 1851-53
Rae had displayed such ability when acting in conjunction with
Sir John Richardson that the Government felt that they could not
do better than entrust the conduct of the next expedition to him,
so they asked Sir George Simpson for the loan of his services and
commissioned him to continue the Franklin search in 1851 in whatever
manner he thought best, only stipulating that the voyage should be
made by boat.
With considerable difficulty he succeeded in getting two small
boats built at the Great Bear Lake, and, after a preliminary
sledge-expedition to Wollaston Land, in which he covered no less than
1100 miles in thirty-one days, on June 15, 1851, he started off on
the serious work of the year from Provision Station, Kendall River,
whither the boats had been brought to meet him. Passing through
Dease Strait he soon made Cape Colburn, and instantly set to work
to examine the east coast of Victoria Land, much of which had never
been visited by a civilised man before. His boats, however, had to be
abandoned after a while, for a stiff northerly gale and packed ice
made it impossible for him to use them, and he felt that he would
do better if he pursued his journey on foot. The rugged limestone
debris with which the shore was covered, however, made this mode of
travelling exceedingly irksome, and, meeting with no better success
inland, he was obliged to turn back after attaining lat. 70° 03´
long. 101° 25´ thus, though he did not know it, reaching a higher
latitude than that in which the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were abandoned.
On his way home he found a boat’s stanchion and the butt-end of a
small flagstaff, with a piece of rope attached to it in the form
of a loop, which he rightly supposed to be relics of the Franklin
expedition.
He returned to Fort Confidence, at the eastern extremity of the Great
Bear Lake, without misadventure, after a brilliant journey, in the
course of which he had explored 725 miles of unknown coast-line in
Wollaston and Victoria Lands. For this service the Royal Geographical
Society awarded him the founder’s gold medal.
His next journey was undertaken not as an agent of the Government,
but as a servant of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and his mission was to
explore the west coast of Boothia, of which very little was known at
that time.
His first objective was his old headquarters at Repulse Bay, and
thither he sailed in August. The outlook was calculated to fill
with misgivings the heart of a less intrepid explorer than Rae.
The weather, in the first place, was unfavourable for fishing and
hunting. In the second place, not a trace of an Eskimo was to be
found, from which fact he gathered that game was not so plentiful
now as was the case when he had paid his last visit to Repulse Bay.
Consequently he began to feel serious doubts as to the possibility
of spending the winter there, for, being of the opinion that the
country ought always to be made to support the explorer, he had only
brought sufficient provisions for three months, and had depended
on his guns and his nets to make up the deficiency. Consequently,
he did not feel justified in asking his men to share the dangers
of an Arctic winter with him against their will, so he called them
together, told them exactly how matters stood, and asked them whether
they would stay there or return. Such was their confidence in their
leader that they one and all volunteered to remain where they were.
Luckily for them the weather improved a little, and before the end of
September they had laid in a sufficient supply of provisions and fuel
to last them up to the period of the spring migrations of the deer.
It was on the last day of March that Rae and four men started out on
the great spring journey which would, as they hoped, lead them across
Boothia Peninsula from Pelly Bay to the Castor and Pollux River, and
thence northward along the western coast of Boothia as far as Bellot
Strait, thus connecting Simpson’s discoveries with those of Kennedy.
They had been travelling for about three weeks when they happened
to fall in with an Eskimo, from whom they obtained the first news
of Franklin’s fate. The story is, perhaps, best given in Rae’s own
words:—
“The man was very communicative, and, on putting to him the usual
questions as to his having seen white men before, or any ships
or boats, he replied in the negative; but said that a party of
‘Kabloonans’ (whites) had died of starvation a long distance to the
west of where we then were, and beyond a large river. He stated that
he did not know the exact place, that he had never been there, and
that he could not accompany us so far.”
The substance of the information then and subsequently obtained was
to the following effect:—
“In the spring four winters past (1850), whilst some Eskimo families
were killing seals near the north shore of a large island, named
in Arrowsmith’s charts King William Land, forty white men were
seen travelling in company southward over the ice, and dragging a
boat and sledges with them. They were passing along the shore of
the above named island. None of the party could speak the Eskimo
language so well as to be understood; but by signs the natives were
led to believe the ship or ships had been crushed by ice, and that
they were then going to where they expected to find deer to shoot.
From the appearance of the men (all of whom, with the exception of
one officer, were hauling on the drag ropes of the sledges, and
were looking thin,) they were then supposed to be getting short
of provisions, and they purchased a small seal, or piece of seal,
from the native. The officer was described as being a tall, stout,
middle-aged man. When their day’s journey terminated they pitched
tents to rest in.
“At a later day the same season, but previous to the disruption of
the ice, the corpses of some thirty persons and some graves were
discovered on the continent, and five dead bodies on an island near
it, about a long day’s journey to the north-west of the mouth of a
large stream, which can be no other than Back’s Great Fish River,
as its description and that of the low shore in the neighbourhood
of Point Ogle and Montreal Island agree exactly with that of Sir
George Back. Some of the bodies were in a tent or tents, others
were under the boat, which had been turned over to form a shelter,
and some lay scattered about in different directions. Of those seen
on the island, it was supposed that one was that of an officer
(chief), as he had a telescope strapped over his shoulders, and his
double-barrelled gun lay underneath him. From the mutilated state of
many of the bodies, and the contents of the kettles, it is evident
that our wretched countrymen had been driven to the last dread
alternative—cannibalism—as a means of sustaining life. A few of the
unfortunate men must have survived until the arrival of the wild fowl
(say until the end of May), as shots were heard, and fresh bones and
feathers of geese were noticed near the scene of the sad event.
“There appears to have been an abundant store of ammunition, as the
gunpowder was emptied by the natives in a heap on the ground, and a
quantity of shot and ball was found below high-water mark, having
probably been left on the ice close to the beach before the spring
thaw commenced. There must have been a number of telescopes, guns
(some of them double-barrelled), watches, compasses, etc., all of
which seem to have been broken up, as I saw pieces of these different
articles with the natives, and I purchased as many as possible,
together with some silver spoons and forks, an order of merit in
the form of a star, and a small plate engraved ‘Sir John Franklin,
K.C.B.’”
These spoons and forks, it may be mentioned, bore the crests and
initials of some fifteen members of the expedition.
So far as Rae could discover, the natives had seen no traces whatever
of the ships, and whenever they were questioned about them, they
always reverted to the _Victory_, which was abandoned by Ross in
the Gulf of Boothia in 1832. “My chief reason,” he writes, “for
believing that none of the ships had been found was the fact that,
in 1854, the Eskimos were so destitute of wood, that, although they
had plenty of sealskins to make their small hunting canoes, they had
no wood for the frames. Now, as 1846 was fourteen years after Ross’s
vessel was abandoned, and as 1854 was only four years by Eskimo
account—actually six years—after the Franklin ships were abandoned,
the probability is that had these ships, or even one of them, been
found, the natives would have had at least as much wood in 1854 as
they had in 1847. The testimony of the _Fox_ expedition of 1854 tends
to support this idea, as no large wooden sledges were found, and
no wood of a size larger than might have been got from the keel of
a boat was seen.... I questioned the Repulse Bay Eskimos over and
over again about whether any of the ships of the starved white men
had been found, but they could tell me nothing, and always went back
to the story of the _Victory_, stating that it was the only vessel
from which wood had been obtained. I still believe that this was
the ship to which the Eskimos referred when speaking to M’Clintock
in 1859, and that they concealed the locality of the wreck lest he
should wish to go there.... I may add that the white men when seen
alive by the Eskimos made the latter understand by signs and a word
or two of Eskimo, that they were going to the mainland (noo-nah) to
shoot deer (took-took).... The Eskimos also remarked that it was
curious that the sledges were seen with the party when travelling,
but none were seen where the dead were, although the boat or boats
remained. I pointed out to them that the white men having got close
to the mouth of the Great Fish River, would require their boat to go
up it, but as they did not require the sledges any more, they might
have burned them for fuel. A look of intelligence immediately lit up
their faces, and they said that they might have done so, for there
had been fires.... They said also that feathers of geese had been
seen, so they had probably shot some of these birds—an evidence that
some of the party must have lived until the beginning of June, the
date at which the geese arrive so far north.... What struck me at
the time, as it does still, was the great mistake made by Franklin’s
party in attempting to save themselves by retreating to the Hudson’s
Bay territories. We should have thought that the fearful sufferings
undergone by Franklin and his companions, Richardson and Back, on
a former short journey through these barren grounds, would have
deterred inexperienced men from attempting such a thing, when the
well-known route to Fury Beach, certainly more accessible than any
of the Hudson Bay Company’s settlements, and by which the Rosses
escaped in 1832-33, was open to them. The distance from their ships
to Fury Beach was very little greater than that from where Ross’s
vessel was abandoned to the same place, and Franklin and his officers
must have known that an immense stock of provisions still remained
at the place where the _Fury_ was wrecked, and where, even so late
as 1859, an immense stock of preserved vegetables, soups, tobacco,
sugar, flour, etc., still remained (a much larger supply than could
be found at many of the Hudson’s Bay trading posts); besides, the
people would have been in the direct road of searching parties
or whalers. The distance to Fury Beach from where the ships were
abandoned, roughly measured, is, as nearly as possible, the same as
that between the ships and the true mouth of the Great Fish River,
or about 210 geographical miles in a straight line. Had the retreat
upon Fury Beach been resolved upon, the necessity for hauling heavy
boats would have been avoided, for during the previous season (that
of 1847) a small sledge party might have been despatched thither to
ascertain whether the provisions and boats at the depot were safe and
available. The successful performance of such a journey should not
have been difficult for an expedition consisting of 130 men who, in
the record found in 1859 by M’Clintock, were reported all well in the
spring of 1847.”
These discoveries of Rae’s were, of course, mere side issues, and
had no connection with the main object of his journey, which was the
exploration of the western coast of Boothia. He accordingly resisted
the strong temptation to inquire more closely into Franklin’s fate,
and went on with the work which he had in hand. Unfortunately for
him he had no sledges with him and no Eskimos to give him their
assistance, for the natives who brought him the news already detailed
soon left him; he was, in consequence, severely handicapped, and a
naturally difficult journey was made all the more arduous. By dint
of great exertions, however, he succeeded in reaching Simpson’s
farthest on the Castor and Pollux River. Thence, in accordance with
his instructions, he turned north, with the object of making his way
to Bellot Strait, thus linking together the discoveries of Simpson
and Kennedy. At Point de la Guiche, however, he was brought to a
stop by fog and snow, and it soon became apparent that he could not
attempt to reach the Strait without endangering the lives of his
party. Accordingly, on May 7 he turned back, and finally reached
Repulse Bay on May 26, after a brilliantly successful journey, during
the course of which he had not merely added many miles of coast-line
to the chart, but had also gained the first authoritative news of the
fate of Franklin, for which he was awarded the £10,000 offered by the
Government.
CHAPTER XVIII
M’CLINTOCK AND THE “FOX”
The news that Rae brought home naturally created the greatest stir
in England, and it was felt that steps ought to be taken at once
to discover whether any of the luckless explorers had succeeded in
making their way to the territories of the Hudson’s Bay Company.
Unfortunately the Crimean War was at that time occupying the full
resources of the nation, and the Government accordingly appealed
to the Hudson’s Bay Company to send out yet another expedition to
search the neighbourhood of the Great Fish River. In response to this
appeal, Mr James Anderson, chief factor of the Company, was detailed
for the service, but, as he did not succeed in discovering any
valuable clues, his journey need not detain us here.
After this failure the Government was indisposed to take any
further steps in the matter, arguing—and it is not to be denied
that they had a certain amount of reason on their side—that it was
practically impossible that any member of the expedition should be
still alive, seeing that eleven years had elapsed since they left
England. Lady Franklin, however, was by no means disposed to let
matters rest here, so, with the help of a number of friends, she
fitted out the _Fox_, a steam yacht of 157 tons, and placed it under
Commander M’Clintock, whose brilliant work in the Arctic Seas made
him peculiarly fitted for such a mission. Lieutenant W. R. Hobson
joined as second in command, Captain Allen Young consented to act as
sailing-master, while many other members of the company had already
seen Arctic service, among them being Dr Walker and Carl Petersen,
the interpreter.
Fully provisioned for twenty-eight months, the _Fox_ set sail from
Aberdeen on July 1, 1857. M’Clintock found the ice in Melville Bay
in a far from satisfactory condition, but, being determined to run
any risks rather than linger on the journey, he entered the pack and
attempted to make Lancaster Sound. For three weeks or so he pushed on
in the face of great difficulties, but it soon became evident that he
was not destined to cross the bay that year, and before the middle of
September the _Fox_ was firmly frozen into the pack with no prospect
of release until the following spring.
After a somewhat exciting winter, during the course of which the
voyage of the yacht was, on more than one occasion, nearly brought to
an untimely end, she was at last released, and, after putting into
Holsteinberg Bay for repairs, she made her second attempt to cross
Melville Bay. On this occasion fate was kinder to her, and, on August
6, she steamed up Lancaster Sound, anchoring off Beechey Island on
the 11th. Here M’Clintock landed a handsome tombstone sent out by
Lady Franklin in memory of her husband and his companions, which was
placed close to the monument erected to the memory of Bellot and
those who had died on the previous search expeditions.
Peel Sound proved impracticable, so M’Clintock determined to make
for Bellot Strait, through which no ship had yet sailed, and the
very existence of which was disputed by many. All doubts upon the
latter point were soon set at rest, but the violent currents which
raced through the strait, bearing with them vast masses of ice that
threatened the ship with instant destruction whenever she attempted
to force a passage through, made it impossible for M’Clintock to
reach the western ocean, and, after several gallant attempts, he was
obliged to resign himself to the inevitable, and to make preparations
for spending the winter in an indentation on the north side of the
strait, which he named Port Kennedy.
The winter passed without misadventure, and on February 17 M’Clintock
set out on a preliminary expedition, with a view to gleaning
such information as he could from the Boothian natives. To his
disappointment the coast seemed completely deserted, and he was
thinking of turning back when he came upon four Eskimos, members
of a tribe which was established in a snow village not far off.
From these men he obtained some tidings of the fate of the missing
explorers, though they could not add very much to what he already
knew. A number of white men, they said, had been starved to death on
an island near a river. None of them had seen the men, but both they
and their friends had articles in their possession which had once
belonged to the whites. Having engaged these natives to build him a
snow-hut for the munificent remuneration of a needle apiece, he sent
them back to tell their friends that he was willing to purchase any
relics that they possessed at a good price. On the following day the
whole community, from the oldest man to the youngest baby, put in an
appearance, bringing with them numbers of spoons, forks, buttons, and
knives, which M’Clintock immediately acquired. He then set out on the
return journey to the ship, reaching Port Kennedy on March 14. During
his absence of twenty-five days he had covered about four hundred and
twenty miles, and had completed the discovery of the coast-line of
continental America.
Immediately after his return he despatched Young, who had been
depositing a store of provisions on Prince of Wales’ Land, on a
trip to Fury Beach, with instructions to bring back a supply of
sugar from the stores left there by Parry. He found an immense stock
of provisions of all kinds, most of them in a marvellous state of
preservation. In addition to 1200 lbs. of sugar, he brought back a
couple of tins of “carrots plain” and “carrots with gravy,” which had
lain on the shore for thirty-four years and were still in excellent
condition.
By the beginning of April everything was in readiness for the
extended sledge journeys. M’Clintock arranged that the operations
should be conducted by three different parties, led by himself,
Hobson, and Young. Each party was to consist of four men drawing one
sledge and six dogs drawing the second sledge, besides the officer
in charge and the dog-driver. He was, of course, a past master of
the art of arranging sledging expeditions, and so carefully had he
disposed his depots of provisions, and so skilfully had he adjusted
the travelling equipment of the parties, that he expected that each
of them would be able to absent itself from the ship for seventy or
eighty days without any difficulty whatever.
M’Clintock and Hobson started off on their journeys on April 2. For a
while their routes coincided, and, by hoisting their tents as sails,
and so taking advantage of a favourable breeze, they made excellent
progress. It was not until they were well on their way down the coast
of Boothia that they fell in with natives, and from these they learnt
that two ships had been seen some years before off King William Land.
One of them had sunk in deep water, but the other had been forced
ashore by the ice, where she was still supposed to remain, though
much broken. It was from the latter ship, according to their story,
that they had obtained most of their wood.
On April 28 they reached Cape Victoria, on the south-west Coast of
Boothia Felix. Here they were to separate, and all credit must be
given to M’Clintock for his generosity to his junior officer. Though
he knew that, if relics were to be found at all, it would be on the
west coast of King William Land, he sent off Hobson to explore that
district, reserving the far less promising east coast for himself.
Hobson’s instructions were to cross to Cape Felix, the most northern
point of King William Land, and then to search the whole of the
west coast for the missing ship or any relics or records that might
be deposited there. Should his search prove unsuccessful, he was
to cross to Victoria Land, and to complete the exploration of that
coast from Collinson’s farthest point. In the meanwhile, M’Clintock
himself meant to push southward down the east coast of King William’s
Land in the direction of the Great Fish River.
The results were exactly as we have indicated. M’Clintock examined
the whole of the east coast and the estuary of the Great Fish River
with the utmost care, but, with the exception of an occasional relic
obtained from the natives, his search was fruitless. He accordingly
crossed the strait on May 24, and proceeded to link up his own
explorations with those of Hobson. On the following day his patience
was at last rewarded, for, while slowly walking along a gravel ridge
near the beach, which the winds kept unusually bare of snow, he came
upon a skeleton partly exposed. From the clothing that lay near by
he gathered that the victim must have been a steward or officer’s
servant, who, selecting the bare ridge-top as affording less tiresome
walking, had fallen on his face in the position in which his skeleton
was found. It may here be said that an old woman with whom M’Clintock
communicated on his outward journey had told him that the unfortunate
explorers had “fallen down and died as they walked along.” Of the
melancholy truth of her words this discovery afforded a terrible
confirmation.
At Cape Herschel M’Clintock found the cairn erected by Simpson, and
this he demolished in the hope that the missing explorers might have
left some record there, but he found nothing. Twelve miles further
on he learnt that that for which he had been searching so diligently
had been discovered, for he came upon a second cairn of more recent
construction—the cairn which marked the end of Hobson’s brilliantly
successful journey. In penetrating thus far Hobson had passed the
point at which the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ had been abandoned, and
had found the first, and, indeed, the only important record of the
journey which it fell to the lot of a white man to discover.
The record, which was enclosed in a tin box and found beside a
tumbled cairn, was brief enough, but it contained the whole history
of the ill-fated expedition. It consisted merely of one of those
printed Government forms which were supplied to all discovery
ships. These forms were intended to be filled up with intimations
of discoveries, accident or distress, and then to be enclosed in a
bottle and thrown into the sea or else buried under a cairn. A note
at the head, written in several different languages, requested the
finder to forward the paper to the Secretary of the Admiralty, or,
if more convenient, to hand it over to the nearest British consul,
with an intimation concerning the time and place at which it had been
found. It was on one of these that Franklin’s officers had made their
last communication to the world. The contents of the document ran as
follows:—
“H.M. ships _Erebus_ and _Terror_,
Wintered in the ice in lat. 70° 5´ N., long. 98° 23´ W.
28th of May 1847.
Having wintered in 1846-7 at Beechey Island in lat. 74° 43´ 28´´ N.,
long. 91° 39´ 5´´ W., after having ascended Wellington Channel to
lat. 77°, and returned by the west side of Cornwallis Island.
Sir John Franklin commanding the expedition.
All well.
[Illustration: THE FRANKLIN RECORD]
Party, consisting of 2 officers and 6 men, left the ships on
Monday, 24th May 1847.
GM. GORE, Lieut.
CHAS. F. DES VŒUX, Mate.”
The following notes were written round the margin:—
“April 25th, 1848.—H.M. ships _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were deserted
on the 22nd April, 5 leagues N.N.W. of this, having been beset
since 12th September 1846. The officers and crews, consisting of
105 souls, under the command of F.R.M. Crozier, landed here in lat.
69° 37´ 42´´ N., long. 98° 41´ W. Sir John Franklin died on 11th
June 1847; and the total loss by death in the expedition has been,
to this date, 9 officers and 15 men.
(Signed)
F. R. M. CROZIER,
Captain and Senior Officer.
(Signed)
JAMES FITZJAMES,
Capt. H.M.S. _Erebus_.
And start on to-morrow, 26th,
for Back’s Fish River.”
“This paper was found by Lieutenant Irving under the cairn supposed
to have been built by Sir James Ross in 1831, four miles to the
northward, where it had been deposited by the late Commander Gore in
June 1847. Sir James Ross’s pillar has not, however, been found; and
the paper has been transferred to this position, which is that in
which Sir James Ross’s pillar was erected.”
From this paper it will be seen that Franklin had made the most
remarkable voyage ever recorded in the annals of Arctic exploration.
After being sighted in Baffin’s Bay on July 26, 1845, he had sailed
through Lancaster Sound and Barrow Strait, and up Wellington Channel
as far as 77° N. He had then returned to the mouth of the channel via
the west coast of Cornwallis Island, and had wintered off Beechey
Island in 1845-46 (the date given in the paper is obviously wrong).
As soon as he was released he had attempted to make his way south
to the American coast, but had been caught in the pack, never again
to be released. The winter of 1846-47 was passed at a point about
fifteen miles north-west of Cape Felix, the most northerly point
of King William Island; and in the spring, when all on board were
reported to be well, two officers and six men started off on an
expedition, the direction and purpose of which are not stated. A
fortnight later death spared Franklin the pain of knowing that his
party could never again reach home, and of seeing his men dying of
cold and starvation, one by one, before his eyes. The summer brought
no prospects of escape, and during the following winter the two ships
drifted southward with the ice for a distance of about thirty miles.
As early in the spring as the conditions permitted, all the survivors
left the ship in an effort to win their way back to civilisation, but
not a single one of them succeeded in accomplishing his task. “So
sad a tale,” says M’Clintock, “was never told in fewer words. There
is something deeply touching in their extreme simplicity, and they
show in the strongest manner that both the leaders of this retreating
party were actuated by the loftiest sense of duty, and met with
calmness and decision the fearful alternative of a last bold struggle
for life, rather than perish without effort on board their ships.”
Before reaching the _Fox_ M’Clintock was destined to find yet more
grim evidence to the fate of the unfortunate explorers. After
rounding Cape Crozier, the westernmost point of King William Island,
the desolation of which was absolutely beyond description, he came
upon a boat which had formed part of the Franklin expedition, and
in which lay two skeletons. Hobson had previously discovered the
boat, and had left in it a note for his commander to the effect that
the most careful search had failed to reveal any journal or other
memoranda such as might fill in the details of the story of which
they already knew the terrible outline. M’Clintock instantly set
about another examination of the boat and its surroundings, in the
hope that he might come upon something that had escaped the eyes of
his junior officer, but he was unrewarded. The boat itself he found
to be of a light build such as would be suitable for the ascent of
the Great Fish River, and fitted with sails, a sloping canvas roof,
an ice-grapnell and a deep-sea sounding-line, which was probably
intended for river work as a track-line. She was, however, mounted
on so heavy a sledge that seven men in the best of health would have
found dragging her over the ice no easy task.
In this boat lay two skeletons, one of them huddled up in the bows,
and the other across the afterthwart. Beside them were five watches,
two guns, and a number of books, for the most part devotional, but,
search as they would, M’Clintock and his men could find no trace of
a pocket-book or journal, nor even a scrap of clothing marked with
a name which might reveal the identity of the two victims. Pieces
of plate and an extraordinary variety of miscellaneous articles,
ranging from two rolls of sheet-lead to tacks, were scattered about
in the boat, and these M’Clintock describes as “a mere accumulation
of dead weight, of little use, and very likely to break down the
strength of the sledge-crews. The only provisions we could find,”
he continues, “were tea and chocolate. Of the former, very little
remained, but there were nearly forty pounds of the latter. These
articles alone could never support life in such a climate, and we
found neither biscuit nor meat of any kind.”
From the direction in which the boat’s head was pointing, and from
its contents, M’Clintock concluded that the party attached to it had
started out for the Great Fish River, but, finding themselves too
utterly worn out to proceed far, had turned back intending to make
their way to the ship. Unable to drag the boat any further, they had
left it where it was found by the explorers, meaning to bring back
food to their two companions who had been obliged, through weakness,
to remain behind. The fact that five watches were left in the boat
points to the conclusion that they had not thought of abandoning
it finally. Overcome by cold and fatigue, however, they must have
perished on the way.
After leaving the boat, M’Clintock pushed on his way with all
possible dispatch, searching for traces of the wrecked ship as he
went, but without success. He reached Point Victory on June 2, and
there he found a note from Hobson, telling him that he had met with
no better fortune in the execution of this part of his mission, but
that he had found a duplicate of the record which we have already
described. M’Clintock spent some little time in examining the cairn
under which the paper had been discovered, and found strewn about
it a vast variety of such miscellaneous articles as cooking-stoves,
pickaxes, shovels, four feet of a copper lightning conductor, long
pieces of brass curtain rods, a medicine chest, and some scientific
instruments. There was also a pile of clothing four feet high, of
which every article was searched. The pockets, however, were all
empty, and not a single piece of the clothing was marked with its
owner’s name. “These abandoned superfluities,” M’Clintock writes,
“afford the saddest and most convincing proof that here—on this
spot—our doomed and scurvy-stricken countrymen calmly prepared
themselves to struggle manfully for life.”
There was now nothing left for M’Clintock but to return to the _Fox_,
and this he accordingly did with all possible speed, reaching Bellot
Strait on June 18. On the return journey he learned from a note left
at one of the depots that Hobson had been taken seriously ill, and
had grown so feeble that it had been found necessary to place him on
one of the sledges. To his great relief he heard, on reaching the
ship, that the scurvy from which his junior was suffering had already
yielded to treatment, and that he was on the high road to recovery.
With the principal fruits of Hobson’s journey we have already
dealt, and the rest may be dismissed in a few words. After leaving
M’Clintock at Cape Victoria, he crossed James Ross Strait without any
difficulty, and immediately turned westward round Cape Felix. Here
he came upon the first signs of the Franklin expedition, in the shape
of “a large cairn, close beside which were three small tents, with
blankets, old clothes, and other vestiges of a shooting or magnetic
station. But,” says M’Clintock, “although the cairn was dug under and
a trench dug all round it to a distance of ten feet, no record was
discovered.... Two miles farther to the south-west a small cairn was
found, but neither record nor relics; and about three miles to the
north of Point Victory a third cairn was examined, but only a broken
pickaxe and empty canister found.” These with, of course, the boat
and the famous record, completed the list of Hobson’s discoveries.
In the meanwhile Young had been very far from idle. It had been his
mission to explore Peel, or, as it was afterwards called, Franklin
Strait and Prince of Wales Island, and he had accomplished his task
in the face of great difficulties. In the first place, gales were
almost incessant, and it was no easy matter to make any headway at
all against them; in the second place, he was disgusted to find that
a channel existed between Prince of Wales Land and Victoria Land,
and that his field of discovery would, in consequence, be widened,
and his search lengthened. Accordingly, with a view to having as few
mouths to feed as possible, he sent back most of his men and dogs to
the ship, and tramped on accompanied only by a young man-of-war’s man
named George Hobday. For forty days they pushed forward till Young
became so ill through cold and exposure that he was obliged to return
to Port Kennedy, which he reached on June 7. His spirit, however,
was quite indomitable, and, in spite of the protests of the doctor,
he was off again on a fresh journey three days later. In all, he was
away from the ship for seventy-eight days, during the course of which
he explored no fewer than 380 miles of new coast-line. This, with the
420 miles explored by M’Clintock and Hobson, makes the splendid total
of 800 miles, a record of which the expedition had good reason to be
proud.
M’Clintock now determined to make the best of his way home as soon as
the thaw should release him. Steam was got up on August 6, in order
that the opportunity might be seized when it arrived, which desirable
event took place three days later. The death of his engineer had left
M’Clintock very short handed, and he himself stood at the engines
for twenty-four consecutive hours. Though held up occasionally by
the ice, the return journey passed without any misadventure, and the
_Fox_ reached the English Channel on September 20.
It may here be added that in 1875 Captain Young attempted to follow
the route opened up by Franklin and to reach Behring Strait via Peel
and Franklin Straits; an impenetrable ice-barrier in Peel Strait,
however, compelled him to turn back. In 1878-79, Lieutenant F.
Schwatka, of the United States Army, and Mr W. H. Gilder, in the
course of a brilliant journey, thoroughly explored the route over
which the men of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were supposed to have
travelled on their way to the Great Fish River, but, though they
found many relics of the expedition, they could not discover a single
paper or document of any kind.
CHAPTER XIX
THE VOYAGES OF KANE AND HAYES
Up to the middle of the nineteenth century America had not played
a very important part in the history of Arctic exploration. In
1853, however, an expedition set out under the command of Dr Elisha
Kent Kane—the young doctor who accompanied Lieutenant De Haven in
the _Advance_ and _Rescue_—which won immortality for itself by
penetrating Smith Sound to a point never reached by any previous
explorer. Although Kane had special instructions from the Secretary
of the United States Navy to “conduct an expedition to the Arctic
seas in search of Sir John Franklin,” it is really hardly possible to
regard his enterprise as a serious part of the Franklin search, for
it concerned itself with a region in which there was no possibility
of finding any traces of the missing explorers.
The ship chosen for the expedition was our old friend the _Advance_,
and the expenses were shared by Mr Grinnell, Mr Peabody, and a number
of American scientific institutions. The crew consisted of seventeen
officers and men, among them being Brooks and Morton, both of whom
had served under De Haven, and Isaac Israel Hayes, a young surgeon,
who was destined to conduct an expedition on his own account later
on. The equipment of the ship seems to have been carried out with
but little regard to the laws of hygiene, as recognised by Arctic
explorers. “We took with us,” says Kane, “some 2000 lbs. of pemmican,
a parcel of Borden’s meat biscuit, some packages of exsiccated
potato, some pickled cabbage, and a liberal quantity of American
dried fruits and vegetables. Besides these we had the salt beef
and pork of the navy ration, hard biscuit and flour.... I hoped to
obtain some fresh provisions in addition before reaching the upper
coast of Greenland.” Such a dietary as this made it almost inevitable
that scurvy would break out, and, as will be seen later on, the crew
suffered terribly from the ravages of this fearful disease.
It was on May 30, 1853, that the _Advance_ set sail from New York,
never to return. Her passage north through Baffin Bay was by no means
free from difficulties, but by August 6 she was in sight of Cape
Alexander and Cape Isabella, the tremendous cliffs which guard the
entrance to Smith Sound. On the following morning, as he was nearing
Littleton Island, which lies well within the mouth of the sound, Kane
was disappointed to see the ominous ice-blink ahead of him, which,
taken in conjunction with the fact that the wind was freshening from
the northward, augured ill for the future. However, he decided to
press on as best he could, only pausing to place a boat and a store
of provisions _en cache_ on the island, a step on which he had good
cause to congratulate himself later on.
On the next day he first closed with the ice, and began his attempt
to bore his way through. A fog, however, compelled him to beat a
retreat into a land-locked cove, which he named “Refuge Harbour,”
where he had to remain for several days. On the 13th, taking
advantage of a change in the weather, he attempted to push on once
more, but he was constantly hampered by gales; these, by the 20th,
had increased to a hurricane, which very nearly made an end of the
whole party.
By the 22nd the storm had abated, and Kane was able to proceed on his
way. His rate of progress, however, was exceedingly slow, for he was
obliged to send men on to the pack with a tracking rope to drag the
ship along as best they could. On the following day he found that he
had reached lat. 78° 41′ N., a point 13′ higher than that reached by
Inglefield, and farther north than any explorer, with the exception
of Parry, had ever penetrated. He now began to realise that there was
very little prospect of his being able to proceed further that year,
and he had to confess that he did not like the idea of being obliged
to spend a winter in so northerly a latitude, as he was so surrounded
with ice that his chances of escape next year were uncertain. He
accordingly called a meeting of his officers and crew, and took
their opinion upon the situation. Why he took this course is not
particularly clear, for the opinions expressed at that meeting did
not influence him in the least. Only one member of the expedition was
in favour of remaining where they were, while all the rest desired to
return south without any delay whatever; yet Kane promptly decided in
favour of the former course, and set about finding winter quarters
for the _Advance_. These he eventually discovered in Rensselaer
Harbour, lat. 78° 37′ N., long. 71° W.
The cold that winter was intense, and the ship’s thermometers ranged
from 60° to 75° below zero. Nor did spring bring much improvement in
the conditions, and Kane found himself obliged to carry out the work
of preparation for his sledge journeys in very trying circumstances.
The matter, however, was not of a nature that would brook delay, so
ten men under Mr Brooks, the first officer, were sent off to place
a store of provisions _en cache_ at a point about ten days’ journey
from the brig.
The whole of the party came within an ace of perishing on the ice,
and had it not been for the efforts of Olsen, the sailing master,
Sontag, the astronomer, and Petersen, the interpreter, who staggered
back to the ship in search of relief, they must have been frozen to
death. As it was, two men died of cold and exposure.
Towards the end of April Kane set out on that sledge journey along
the east shore of Smith Sound which has raised him to the front
rank of Arctic explorers. His expedition was conducted in the face
of two great difficulties—sickness and lack of provisions. As early
as May 30 the scurvy which had attacked the crew during the winter
reappeared, and many members of the party fell victims to it, Kane
himself suffering so severely that his limbs became quite rigid, and
he had to be lashed to the sledge. The shortage of provisions was not
due to any lack of care in the preparations for the expedition, but
to the depredations of the bears, which had found the contents of the
_caches_ so much to their liking that they had completely demolished
them.
“The pemmican,” says Kane, “was covered with blocks of stone,
which it had required the labour of three men to adjust; but the
extraordinary strength of the bear had enabled him to force aside the
heaviest rocks, and his pawing had broken the iron casks which held
our pemmican literally into chips. Our alcohol cask, which had cost
me a separate and special journey in the late fall to deposit, was so
completely destroyed that we could not find a stave of it.”
In spite of these difficulties, however, Kane succeeded in reaching
the Great Glacier of Humboldt, that tremendous sea of ice, one of the
largest of its kind, which stretches from 79° 12′ to 80° 12′. By the
end of the first week in May the condition of the party had become so
bad that it was useless for them to attempt to proceed any further.
Kane was delirious, his companions were almost past walking, and it
was only through the most heroic perseverance that they succeeded in
reaching the ship at all.
For a few days after their return the doctor had his hands full,
but under his skilful treatment the patients recovered rapidly, and
the work of exploration was immediately resumed. The first to leave
the ship was Dr Hayes, who was sent off with a sledge and a team
of dogs to explore the country north and east of Inglefield’s Cape
Sabine. The dogs gave him some little trouble, as their harness was
constantly breaking, and the only material at hand for repairing
it consisted of his own sealskin breeches, large portions of which
he was obliged to sacrifice for the good of the cause. However, he
prosecuted his explorations as far as Dobbin Bay before turning back
to the ship.
Though he had gained a great deal of valuable knowledge concerning
the coast-line on either side of Smith Sound, Kane was still
uncertain whether he was in a channel leading into a polar sea or in
a _cul-de-sac_. From his observations of the tides and the drift of
the ice he was inclined to take the former view, and, in the hope
of setting all doubts upon the subject at rest, he decided to send
out another party, with dogs, which was to be subsisted as far as
the Great Glacier by provisions carried by a foot party in advance.
Unfortunately scurvy is not a disease which is thrown off easily,
and, when the time for making up these parties arrived, only five men
were found to be in reasonably good health. He did the best that he
possibly could in the circumstances. He told off Morton, M’Gary, and
three men to take provisions to the Great Glacier, where they were
to be joined by Hans Christian, the hunter of the party, with dogs.
Morton and Hans were then to cross the strait and advance along the
distant coast as far as they could.
The two explorers attacked their part of the task with immense
ardour, and eventually succeeded in penetrating as far as Cape
Constitution. They returned to the ship with marvellous tales of open
seas and waves dashing against the cliffs, which rejoiced Kane’s
heart exceedingly, for they not only supported his theories, but
they also gave colour to the popular fallacy that an ice-free ocean
existed in the direction of the Pole. Unfortunately, however, it
subsequently transpired that Morton and Hans were quite mistaken.
There is, of course, no reason to suppose that their stories were
mere flights of imagination, composed for the express benefit
of their commander. Other explorers have made similar illusory
discoveries, and have chronicled them in perfectly good faith. No
doubt Morton and Hans honestly believed that they saw an open polar
sea off Cape Constitution; the fact remains, however, that they saw
nothing of the kind.
By the beginning of June 1854, Kane had begun to realise that he
was in a very uncomfortable situation. All his men were diseased,
and several of them were completely disabled; fuel and food were
becoming very short; and, to crown all, there seemed no prospect of
extricating his ship that year. He soon came to the conclusion that
the only thing for him to do was to attempt to reach Beechey Island,
and there to ask for assistance from Sir Edward Belcher. Accordingly,
he patched up his whale-boat to the best of his ability, and, taking
with him the only five members of his crew who were in reasonably
good health, he started off on his hazardous voyage. He was not,
however, destined to get very far, for he found the mouth of Smith
Sound so cumbered with ice that he had no choice but to give orders
for a retreat on the ship, which he reached on August 6.
A careful inspection of his stores now forced him to the conclusion
that he must cut down the allowance of fuel. Here is the passage in
his journal in which he records the step. “Reduced our allowance of
wood to six pounds a meal. This, among eighteen mouths, is one-third
of a pound of fuel each. It allows us coffee twice a day and soup
once. Our fare, besides this, is cold pork boiled in quantity and
eaten as required. This sort of thing works badly, but I must reserve
coal for other emergencies. I see darkness ahead. I inspected the
ice again to-day. Bad! bad!—I must look another winter in the face.
I do not shrink from the thought; but, while we have a chance ahead,
it is my first duty to have all things in readiness to meet it. It
is horrible—yes, that is the word—to look forward to another year of
disease and darkness to be met without fresh food and without fuel.
I should meet it with more tempered sadness if I had no comrades to
think for and protect.”
There was now only one expedient to be tried, and that was a land
journey in search of succour from the Eskimos. Accordingly Hayes,
Petersen and seven men set out from the ship on August 28, leaving
the rest of their companions to shift for themselves as best they
could. Had it not been for an alliance which they made with a tribe
of Eskimos, whose settlement lay some seventy-five miles from the
ship, they would probably have perished miserably of cold and
starvation. By the terms of this alliance the natives undertook
to refrain from stealing from the ship, and to supply the sailors
with fresh meat and dogs, while Kane in return promised them the
assistance of his men on their hunting expeditions, and undertook
to provide them with needles, knives, and other trifles dear to
the heart of the native. The sledge journey from the ship to the
settlement and back was, however, so long and arduous that Kane only
undertook it when it was absolutely necessary.
On December 7 a number of Eskimos put in an appearance bringing with
them two members of the exploring party. From them Kane learnt that
they had failed hopelessly in their mission, and that their comrades
were housed at a settlement 200 miles away. He accordingly sent back
the Eskimo escort with such supplies as he could spare to bring back
the remainder of his friends. So rapidly did the natives travel that
five days later they were back again with Hayes and his party, all
of whom were in a state of collapse. Indeed, had it not been for the
great kindness with which they had been treated by the Etah Eskimos
they must inevitably have perished.
A more unutterably miserable winter was probably never passed by any
band of Arctic explorers. As the anti-scorbutics, the food and the
fuel failed, the condition of the men grew worse and worse, and Kane
made up his mind that as soon as spring came round he would spare
no efforts to make his way to civilised regions. The only person on
board who seems to have been reasonably happy was the hunter, Hans
Christian. While all his comrades were wondering how in the world
they were to support life, he had fallen head over ears in love with
a fair Eskimo damsel of Etah, to whom he intended to get married as
soon as he could make his way to the nearest settlement.
With the details of the return journey we need not concern ourselves.
It began in May, and after almost superhuman exertions, the party
succeeded in reaching Upernivik on August 3. Thence they were taken
back to the United States in the squadron which, under the command of
Lieutenant Harstene, had been sent out to their rescue.
In the following year Hayes, Kane’s surgeon, set out in the schooner
_United States_ on an expedition, the object of which was to verify
Morton’s story of the open polar sea, in which the worthy doctor had
the firmest belief. The winter was marked by a tragedy, for Sontag,
the astronomer and probably the most valuable member of the party,
was frozen to death on a sledging expedition. Had he been spared he
might have saved Hayes from perpetrating the extraordinary series of
blunders which were the most startling feature of his spring journey
up the coast of Grinnell Land. Not only did he make a number of
unreliable observations, with the result that his chart had to be
entirely altered by subsequent explorers, but he also imagined that
he saw a magnificent polar sea, which proved ultimately to be nothing
but the southern half of Kennedy Channel. This part of the channel
freezes late and opens early, owing to the exceptionally high tides,
and is rarely entirely closed.
CHAPTER XX
HALL AND THE “POLARIS”
We now come to one of the most curious figures in the whole history
of Arctic exploration, that of the American, Charles Francis Hall,
who, in the year 1864, set sail for Smith Sound in the barque
_Polaris_. Hall came from Cincinnati, and in his earlier days he
followed the peaceful avocation of a blacksmith. He was an ambitious
man, however, and something of a dreamer, and he had not the least
intention of spending all his days at the forge. Journalism claimed
his attention for a while, and he became editor of the Cincinnati
_Daily Penny Press_, but his heart yearned towards the Polar regions,
and, though he had never seen the sea in his life, he felt himself
irresistibly impelled to quit the life in which he was already
beginning to win some measure of success for the more hazardous
career of an Arctic explorer.
It was probably the fate of the Franklin expedition which first made
him turn his thoughts seriously in this direction. He firmly believed
that the English explorers had been absolutely wrong in their methods
of conducting the search. The only way by which success could
possibly be obtained was, he imagined, by settling among the Eskimos,
by acquiring their language, their ways and their confidence, and
so obtaining from them any information which they might possess
concerning the fate of Franklin’s party, many of whom he believed to
be still alive.
[Illustration: ESKIMO ARCHITECTS
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPT. LYON]
Hall seems to have imagined that he was “called” to undertake this
task himself, so, with an energy and enterprise which must command
our admiration, he promptly set about the fulfilment of his mission.
Funds having been provided by Henry Grinnell and a number of other
men who were interested in the project, he set sail in the barque
_George Henry_ with a crew of thirty officers and men, including an
interpreter. His object was to proceed direct to Boothia, and there
to spend three years among the natives, living with them as one of
themselves, and completing the history of the Franklin expedition.
This scheme, however, he only partially fulfilled. He lived with the
natives, it is true, and became by far the greatest authority of the
day on their manners and customs, but, beyond demonstrating that what
was known as Frobisher Strait was in reality a bay, he did nothing
towards adding to the world’s knowledge of the Arctic regions,
or towards elucidating the mystery of the fate of the Franklin
expedition. He returned home in 1862, and occupied himself for some
time in writing up an account of his experiences.
Two years later he sailed in the barque _Monticello_ on his second
expedition. On this occasion he made for Repulse Bay, where he
proposed getting into touch with the natives and acquiring from them
all the information that they possessed about Franklin’s party and
ships. Unfortunately, it appears that the natives knew how dear his
mission was to him, and, not wishing to disappoint him, employed
their imagination to fill in the gaps in their actual knowledge.
As was only inevitable, Hall ultimately discovered that the
circumstantial tales with which they regaled him were largely flights
of fancy, and, completely disillusioned, he made his way home again
to America.
During his sojourn with the Eskimos, however, he had acquired a real
taste for Arctic exploration, and he at once decided that, as there
seemed to be nothing further to be learned about the _Erebus_ and
_Terror_, he had better direct his attention towards the North Pole.
He was a man of unbounded enterprise, and he soon found friends who
were ready to help him to launch his new project. Chief among these
was Mr Robeson, Secretary of the American Navy Department, through
whose offices Congress voted him $50,000 towards his expenses. A
wooden river gunboat of 387 tons, originally called the _Periwinkle_
but rechristened the _Polaris_ was placed at his disposal, and in
this he set sail from New London on July 3, 1871.
Truth to tell, the expedition was never really marked out for
success, as is pointed out by Sir A. H. Markham in the following
passage: “He (Hall) had no advantages of education, and was
unacquainted with nautical astronomy. He was thus in no sense a
seaman, but rather an enthusiastic leader depending on others
to navigate his vessel and to render his discoveries useful. He
possessed, however, one great advantage. His two previous expeditions
had thoroughly acclimatised him, and given him a complete knowledge
of Eskimo life. The men who accompanied him were also badly chosen.
Buddington was an old whaling captain, without any interest in
the undertaking; and Tyson (the assistant navigator) was a man of
the same stamp. Chester, the mate, was a good seaman and excellent
harpooner, but one who had merely shipped from the inducement of high
pay. Dr Bessels, a former student of Heidelberg, who had served in
one of the German Arctic expeditions and in the Prussian army during
the invasion of France, was the only man of scientific attainments in
the ship, and the only man, besides Hall, who felt any enthusiasm for
the objects of the voyage. Altogether it was an ill-assorted company,
without zeal for discovery, without discipline or control, and in
which every man considered himself as good as his neighbour.”
It was, perhaps, a little unfortunate that this expedition, which
was so poorly adapted to make full use of its opportunities, should
have been more favoured by luck than any of its predecessors. After
stopping at Upernivik to pick up Hans Christian, who brought with
him his wife and a family which had already attained to considerable
dimensions, the _Polaris_ sailed merrily on past Rensselaer Harbour,
through the so-called “open Polar Sea,” through Kennedy Channel,
across Hall Basin and up Robeson Channel, till, on August 30, she was
in lat. 82° 16´, 250 miles, beyond the furthest point reached by any
previous explorer. It seems, indeed, that she might have penetrated
even further than that without much difficulty had Hall only been
a practical seaman, for the stream of ice by which she was stopped
was quite insignificant, and there was a magnificent water-sky
away to the northward. Buddington, however, was dead against the
attempt, and Hall, of course, was obliged to follow his advice, so
the _Polaris_ was allowed to drift southward, until, on September
3, when she had reached lat. 81° 38′, she found herself in a small
indentation called Thank God Bay, in which she was made snug for the
winter.
Two months later a gloom was cast over the company by the tragic
death of Hall. On returning, rather chilled, from a sledge journey,
he was unwise enough to descend at once to the cabin and drink hot
coffee, though his experience of life in the Polar regions ought to
have taught him that it was extremely dangerous to do this without
first divesting himself of his furs and allowing his system to be
toned up to the high temperature of his cabin. Within a few hours he
became seriously ill, and a fortnight later he died. Dr Bessels gave
it as his opinion that his death was due to apoplexy.
The command now devolved on Buddington, who showed himself singularly
unfitted for his duties. In the first place, he abolished the Sunday
services, a step which is always inadvisable, and which, in this
case, was absolutely criminal, as the men were quite ill-disciplined
enough as it was. In the second place, he developed a taste for
sending out exploring parties and calling them back to the ship
again for no comprehensible reason, so that no discoveries of any
value were made, in spite of the exceptionally favourable situation
in which the expedition was then placed. It was, however, after the
_Polaris_ had been set free and while she was on her way home that he
gave the most convincing proof of his incompetence, with the result
that a large portion of his crew came within an ace of absolute
disaster. The ship happened to be caught in the ice with which she
drifted into Baffin Bay. On October 15 she was severely nipped,
whereupon the panic-stricken Buddington promptly cried out, “Throw
everything upon the ice.” Of course the whole ship was instantly
cast into the direst confusion. The sailors hurled everything that
they could lay hands on on to the floe, including a bundle which was
subsequently found to contain two of Hans Christian’s offspring. Men,
women, and children leapt after them, and though Tyson did his best
to calm them his efforts were not of much avail. While everything was
still in confusion and while half the crew were on the ice and the
rest on board, the ship suddenly freed herself and flew off before
the wind at the rate of ten or eleven knots an hour.
It was not until morning came that the castaways were able to take
a serious survey of their situation. They found that they numbered
nineteen, among them being two Eskimo women, and Hans Christian’s
youngest child, Charlie Polaris, which had seen the light of day on
board the ship after which he was named while she was lying in winter
quarters. The floe on which they were cast away was over a mile in
diameter, but though, for the time being, it made a serviceable raft,
there was, of course, no knowing when it would split up.
For over six months, that is to say, from the middle of October
1872 to the end of April 1873, the floe drifted steadily south,
diminishing in size as it went. The most serious split occurred on
March 11, after which it only measured a hundred yards in length
by seventy in breadth. Provisions, too, which were never exactly
plentiful—they had started on their adventurous voyage equipped only
with eleven and a half bags of bread, fourteen small hams, some cans
of meat and soup, a little chocolate and sugar, and 630 pounds of
pemmican—became painfully scarce, and had they not been able to eke
out their menu with a few dogs which had been thrown on to the ice,
and with sundry seals which had been caught during the latter part of
their voyage, they would have died of hunger.
Fortunately for them, the floe drifted down into the track of the
whalers, and on the last day of April they were picked up by the
_Tigress_, of Conception Bay, Newfoundland, which conveyed them
safely to St John’s.
Of the remainder of the voyage of the _Polaris_ herself there is very
little to be said. With fourteen men on board, she was driven north
to Life Boat Cove, where she was safely anchored. Her crew promptly
unloaded her and built a house on shore, where they spent the winter
in tolerably comfortable circumstances, being supplied by the Eskimos
with all the fresh meat that they required. In the spring they made
a couple of boats out of the ship’s timbers, in which they set sail
for the south on June 3. They were ultimately picked up by the whaler
_Ravenscraig_ of Dundee.
As has already been indicated, the results of this expedition might
have been far greater than was actually the case. The _Polaris_,
it is true, penetrated further north than ever ship had penetrated
before. Dr Bessels made many valuable researches into animal and
vegetable life in those regions, and it was conclusively shown that
Kane’s open Polar Sea and the coast-line laid down by Hayes were
quite fictitious. But more might easily have been achieved had the
expedition been better conducted.
CHAPTER XXI
THE “GERMANIA” AND THE “HANSA”
As has been seen in the last chapter, Hall was first inspired to
enter upon the field of Arctic exploration by the loss of the
Franklin expedition, and we have, in consequence, abandoned the
true chronological order of events and dealt with his expedition
out of its place. We must now hark back to the year 1868, when Dr
Petermann, the famous German geographer, fitted out a small ship
called the _Germania_ for a voyage of discovery along the east coast
of Greenland, thus earning for himself the distinction of being the
first of his race to send out an expedition to the Polar regions.
Dr Petermann himself took no active part in the work, but entrusted
the command to Captain Karl Koldewey, an expert in maritime matters,
who had studied navigation at the Polytechnic school in Hanover, and
physics and astronomy at the University of Göttingen.
His first trip in the _Germania_, in which he was accompanied by
a small crew of only eleven men, was not attended by any very
remarkable results. Pack-ice frustrated his attempt to coast
northward along the shores of Greenland, and compelled him to set
his course eastward to the Spitzbergen seas, where he succeeded
in reaching the latitude of 81° 5′. He then turned back down the
Hinlopen Strait, and made his way to Bergen, where he arrived on the
last day of September.
His second expedition, which sailed in the following year, was
much more fully equipped, and on this occasion the _Germania_, a
screw-steamer of 140 tons, which was manned by a crew of seventeen
officers and men, was accompanied by the _Hansa_, a schooner of 76¾
tons, commanded by Captain Hegemann, and having fourteen officers and
men on board. As it was intended that this expedition should spend a
winter within the Arctic circle especial pains were expended upon the
commissariat department, and no better provisioned ships had ever set
out on a voyage of adventure.
For a while progress was slow, owing to the heavy gales which
prevailed during the latter half of the month. They pressed steadily
on, however, keeping well in company with one another, and at the
beginning of July the knowledge that they were now reaching the
higher latitudes was brought home to them by the fact that the
sun did not set until 10.15, and that it was possible to read the
smallest print at midnight without the aid of artificial light. A
few days later, when they were off the coast of Jan Mayen Island,
they saw the midnight sun for the first time, and Dr Borgen and Dr
Copeland—the latter an Englishman who had studied and worked in
Germany—embarked with increased ardour on that series of scientific
observations which was the most valuable result of the expedition.
It was soon after this that a misunderstanding occurred which
resulted in the two ships being separated for ever. They were sailing
along in company, searching for a passage through the ice which
would, it was hoped, extend far away to the north. Koldewey, wishing
to consult with Hegemann, signalled to him to come within hail, but
he, unfortunately, misunderstood the signal, and, setting more sail,
disappeared into the fog before Koldewey could follow him.
Separated from his consort, Hegemann did all that lay in his power
to reach Sabine Island, the appointed rendezvous in the event of
any accident of this nature. The weather, however, was against him,
and, try as he would, he could not succeed in approaching within
thirty-five nautical miles of his destination. The _Hansa_ now found
herself in serious difficulties. For many weeks she had been fighting
against the ice, which was rapidly hemming her in on every side, but
lack of steam power made it impossible for her either to reach Sabine
Island or to force her way through to the landward water which lay
along the coast. On September 6 her captain had no choice but to lay
her up between two promontories of a large ice-field, and on the
following day she was completely frozen in.
It was now, of course, obvious that the crew would have to spend the
winter where they were, and they instantly set about building a house
of coal bricks, of which they had an ample supply on board. These
formed an excellent building material, since they absorbed the damp
and kept the warmth in the room, while water and snow made a perfect
substitute for mortar. “We only needed,” says Hegemann, “to strew
finely-powdered snow between the grooves and cracks, pour water upon
it, and in ten minutes all was frozen into a strong compact mass.” So
well did the men work that the house was finished and provisioned
for two months in little more than a week.
They were not much too soon, for before the month was over the fate
of the unfortunate _Hansa_ was sealed. On October 8 a gale arose
which blew violently for several days. On the 18th, the ice began
to make itself conspicuous by “thrusting and pressing against the
ship. This unpleasant noise lasted until the afternoon. At regular
intervals underneath, the ice, like a succession of waves, groaned
and cracked, squashed and puffed; now sounding like the banging of
doors, now like many human voices raised against one another; and
lastly, like a drag on the wheel of a railway engine. The evident
immediate cause of this crushing was that our field had turned in
drifting, and was now pressed closer to the coast ice.... For a time
the _Hansa_ was spared, though trembling violently. The masts often
swayed so much that it seemed as though someone was climbing them.”
Worse, however, was to follow, for on the next day the pressure of
the ice became so terrible that the deck seams sprang and the bow
of the ship was forced upwards seventeen feet. “The rising of the
ship,” says Hegemann, “was an extraordinary and awful, yet splendid
spectacle, of which the whole crew were witnesses from the ice. In
all haste the clothing, nautical instruments, journals, and cards
were taken over to the landing bridge. The after part of the ship,
unfortunately, would not rise, and therefore the stern post had to
bear the most frightful pressure, and the conviction that the ship
must soon break up forced itself upon our minds.... The first thing
to be done was to bring all necessary and useful things from the
tween decks on to the ice—bedding, clothing, more provisions and
coal. Silently were all the heavy chests and barrels pushed over the
hatchway. First comes the weighty iron galley, then the two stoves
are happily hoisted over; their possession ensures us the enjoyment
of warm food, the heating of our coal house, and other matters
indispensable for a wintering on the floe. At three o’clock the water
in the cabin had reached the table, and all movable articles were
floating. The fear that we should not have enough fuel made us grasp
at every loose piece of wood and throw it on the ice. The sinking of
the ship was now almost imperceptible, it must have found support
on a tongue of ice or some promontory of our field. There was still
a small medicine chest and a few other things, which, in our future
position, would be great treasures, such as the cabin-lamp, books,
cigars, boxes of games, etc. The snow roof (with which the _Hansa_
had been equipped for the winter) and the sails were brought on to
the ice; but still all necessary work was not yet accomplished. Round
about the ship lay a chaotic mass of heterogeneous articles, and
groups of feeble rats struggling with death and trembling with the
cold!”
By degrees the crew got things in order and settled down for the
winter in their fairly comfortable though not particularly secure
abode. Occasionally they had a bad fright. On the afternoon of
January 2, for example, as they were resting after dinner, they
heard “a scraping, blustering, crackling, sawing, grating, and
jarring sound, as if some unhappy ghost was wandering under our
floe. Perplexed, we all jumped up and went out; we thought that our
store-house had fallen in. Some of the sailors, going in front
with the lamp, carefully searched the path to it. But in whatever
direction the light fell on the sparkling and glittering ice-walls
we saw nothing. Immovable hung the rigid icicles, often a foot long;
evidently nothing was amiss here. We rummaged in the snow path before
the house. Although completely snowed up (indeed, the whole house
was buried more than a foot deep in ice), we all rushed out, but, of
course, we could not see more than the steps, nor hear anything but
the howling of the storm. Still, between whiles, we could detect the
same rubbing and grinding. For a change we laid ourselves flat down,
with our ears to the floor, and could then hear a rustling like the
singing of ice when closely jammed, and as if water was running under
our great floe. There could be no doubt that it stood in great danger
of being smashed to pieces, either from drifting over sunken rocks
and bursting up, or breaking over the ice-border; perhaps both at
once. We packed our furs and filled our knapsacks with provisions.
Our position, if the floe should be destroyed, seemed hopeless.”
Next morning they found that huge masses of the floe in the
neighbourhood of the house had broken off, and, on the following
day, when the storm had cleared off and they were able to take a
careful survey of the situation, they discovered, to their horror,
that it was not half its former size. The distance from the house
to the edge of the ice, which was once 500 paces, was now only 200;
except on one side, where the distance, formerly 3000 paces, was now
diminished to 1000, while the diameter of the floe, which, before
the storm was two nautical miles, was now barely one. The worst,
however, was yet to come, for on January 11 splits appeared in the
immediate neighbourhood of the house, which so reduced the floe that
it soon measured only 150 feet in diameter, and on this frail raft
the unfortunate crew experienced one of the most terrific storms that
they had encountered. By a miracle they escaped with their lives, and
by the beginning of February their trials, which they had borne with
marvellous patience, were practically over.
During the whole of this time they had been drifting steadily south
within sight of the barren shore of Greenland, which, unfortunately,
the ice had never allowed them to reach. On May 7, however, the
sea cleared, and it need hardly be said that they seized gladly on
the opportunity of taking to their boats, in which they reached
Friedrichsthal on June 7. There they received a ready welcome from
the Moravian missionaries, and eventually secured a passage home from
Julianshaab, a seaport on the west coast of South Greenland.
In the meanwhile, Koldewey, after waiting some time for the _Hansa_,
was obliged by the approach of winter to find a harbour for his
ship off Pendulum Islands. In the spring he went out on a sledging
expedition with Payer, during the course of which he reached lat.
77° 01′, the highest point attained up till then on the east coast
of Greenland. While sailing home in the summer, he discovered the
magnificent Franz Josef Fiord, at the head of which Mount Petermann
rears its head to a height of at least 12,000 feet above the sea.
CHAPTER XXII
THE VOYAGE OF THE “TEGETTHOFF”
Many routes to the North Pole had now been tried and found wanting.
Expeditions had started out by Behring Strait, through Smith
Sound, up the eastern coast of Greenland and from Spitzbergen,
but they had one and all been frustrated by those great Arctic
currents, which, rushing down from the Polar basin, carried with
them such quantities of ice that real progress towards the Pole was
practically impossible. There still remained one route, however,
which had scarcely been tried at all, namely that which lay round
the north-east shores of Nova Zembla. Many noted geographers held
that the Gulf Stream did not disappear at the North Cape, and that by
following its warmer waters it might be possible to avoid the Arctic
currents and the difficulties which followed in their train. It was
with a view to testing this theory that the Austrian expedition
of 1872-74 set out in the _Tegetthoff_, under the joint command
of Lieutenant Carl Weyprecht, to whom was entrusted all matters
connected with navigation, and Lieutenant Julius Payer, who was to be
responsible for the conduct of the sledging operations.
In June 1871 Weyprecht and Payer sailed in the _Isbjörn_ on a
preliminary excursion to spy out the land, or rather, perhaps,
the sea, and, the result of their observations being entirely
satisfactory, it was definitely decided that they should adventure
in that direction in the following year. The _Tegetthoff_, a steamer
of 220 tons burden, was accordingly put in a state of thorough
repair and fitted out for two years and a half. Her crew numbered
twenty-two, so that, with her commanders, she carried twenty-four
souls, as well as eight dogs.
The expedition sailed from Tromsö on July 14, and eleven days later
ice was sighted. At first it afforded them no serious difficulties,
for the _Tegetthoff_ was enabled by her steam power to charge the
floes and so to force her way through those round which she could
not sail. On August 20, however, she was brought to a dead stop by
a barrier of ice in lat. 76° 22´ N., long. 63° 3´ E. “Ominous were
the events of that day,” says Payer, “for immediately after we had
made the _Tegetthoff_ fast to that floe, the ice closed in upon us
from all sides, and we became close prisoners in its grasp. No water
was to be seen around us, and never again were we destined to see
our vessel in water.... We were, in fact, no longer discoverers, but
passengers against our will on the ice. From day to day we hoped for
the hour of our deliverance! At first we expected it hourly, then
daily, then from week to week; then at the seasons of the year and
changes of the weather, then in the chances of new years! But that
hour never came.”
The _Tegetthoff_, firmly fixed on her floe, now became the sport
of the winds, for in that sea it is the wind that controls the
ice-movements. By October 12 she had travelled so far northward
that Nova Zembla had completely disappeared from view. On the next
day a great excitement took place, for the floe burst right under
the ship. “Rushing on deck,” says Payer, “we discovered that we were
surrounded and squeezed by the ice; the after-part of the ship was
already nipped and pressed, and the rudder, which was the first to
encounter its assault, shook and groaned; but as its great weight did
not admit of its being shipped, we were content to lash it firmly.
We next sprang on the ice, the tossing, tremulous motion of which
literally filled the air with noises, as of shrieks and howls, and we
quickly got on board all the materials which were lying on the floe,
and bound the fissures of the ice hastily together by ice-anchors
and cables.... But, just as in the risings of a people, the wave
of revolt spreads on every side, so now the ice uprose against us.
Mountains threateningly reared themselves from out the level fields
of ice, and the low groans which issued from its depths grew into
a deep rumbling sound, and at last rose into a furious howl as of
myriads of voices. Noise and confusion reigned supreme, and step by
step destruction drew nigh in the crashing together of the fields
of ice. Our floe was now crushed, and its blocks, piled up into
mountains, drove hither and thither. Here they towered fathoms high
above the ship, and forced the projecting timbers of massive oak,
as if in mockery of their purpose, against the hull of the vessel;
there masses of ice fell down as into an abyss under the ship, to be
engulfed in the rushing waters, so that the quantity of ice beneath
the ship was continually increased, and at last it began to raise
her quite above the level of the sea. About 11.30 in the forenoon,
according to our usual custom, a portion of the Bible was read on
deck, and this day, quite accidentally, the portion read was the
history of Joshua; but if in his day the sun stood still, it was more
than the ice showed any inclination to do.... In all haste we began
to make ready to abandon the ship, in case it should be crushed, a
fate which seemed inevitable, if she were not sufficiently raised
through the pressure of the ice. At 12.30 the pressure reached a
frightful height, every part of the vessel strained and groaned;
the crew, who had been sent down to dine, rushed on deck. The
_Tegetthoff_ had heeled over on her side, and huge pillars of ice
threatened to precipitate themselves upon her. But the pressure
abated, and the ship righted herself; and about one o’clock, when
the danger was in some degree over, the crew went below to dine. But
again a strain was felt through the vessel, everything which hung
freely began to oscillate violently, and all hastened on deck, some
with the unfinished dinner in their hands, others stuffing it into
their pockets.”
Instantly the last preparations were made for leaving the
ship—“whither no one pretended to know: for not a fragment of the ice
around us had remained whole; nowhere could the eye discover a still
perfect and uninjured floe, to serve as a place of refuge, as a vast
floe had before been to the crew of the _Hansa_. Nay, not a block,
not a table of ice was at rest, all shapes and sizes of it were in
active motion, some turning and twisting, none on the level. A sledge
would at once have been swallowed up.”
The party on the _Tegetthoff_ remained for the whole of the winter
on the brink of death. When summer came round it brought with it
hopes of release, but day after day passed by and still the floe on
which the ship was fixed showed no signs of freeing her from its
grasp. In July 1873 an attempt was made to measure the thickness
of the ice by means of a borer; after twenty-seven feet had been
penetrated the attempt had to be abandoned. In August the chances
of release began to lessen considerably, and the bitter thought was
beginning to assail the officers and crew that they would be obliged
to return home without making a single discovery when, on the 30th
of the month, a sudden and unexpected sight infused new life into
them. “About midday,” says Payer, “as we were leaning on the bulwarks
of the ship and scanning the gliding mists, through which the rays
of the sun broke ever and anon, a wall of mist, lifting itself up
suddenly, revealed to us afar off in the north-west the outlines of
bold rocks, which in a few minutes seemed to grow into a radiant
Alpine land! At first we all stood transfixed and hardly believing
what we saw. Then carried away by the reality of our good fortune,
we burst into shouts of joy, ‘Land, land, land, at last!’ There
was now not a sick man on board the _Tegetthoff_. The news of the
discovery spread in an instant. Everyone rushed on deck to convince
himself, with his own eyes, that the expedition was not, after all,
a failure—there before us lay the prize that could not be snatched
from us. Yet not by our own action, but through the happy caprice
of our floe and as in a dream had we won it; but when we thought of
the floe, drifting without intermission, we felt with redoubled pain
that we were at the mercy of its movements. As yet we had secured
no winter harbour from which the exploration of the strange land
could be successfully undertaken. For the present, too, it was not
within the verge of possibility to reach and visit it. If we had
left the floe, we should have been cut off and lost. It was only
under the influence of the first excitement that we made a rush over
our ice-field, although we knew that numberless fissures made it
impossible to reach the land. But, difficulties notwithstanding, when
we ran to the edge of our floe, we beheld from a ridge of ice the
mountains and glaciers of the mysterious land.”
With all due pomp and circumstance they named their new discovery
Franz Josef Land, drinking the health of their Emperor as they did
so. Their jubilation, however, was destined to be short-lived, for
almost immediately a northerly wind arose which drove their floe many
miles to the south, and Franz Josef Land, though still very dear to
memory, was completely lost to sight. When next they found themselves
in its neighbourhood, moreover, an event which occurred towards
the end of September, their sensations were less pleasurable, for
storms were churning up the ice in a most terrifying manner, and they
were in imminent danger of being wrecked upon a shore which, though
they viewed it with eyes of pride, looked, as they had to admit,
distinctly inhospitable. By the 1st of November, however, the ice
had quietened down, and Payer came to the conclusion that he might
safely attempt to effect a landing. The way was difficult, lying as
it did over masses of broken ice which included a rampart fifty feet
high, but the men made light of such obstacles, and it was a proud
moment for them when they were able to set foot on land which had
probably never been trodden by a human being before.
[Illustration: A BEAR HUNT]
They found that the new country consisted of two main masses. That
on which they had landed they called Wilczek Land, and the other
they named Zichy Land, while the sound which separated them they
christened Austria Sound. It was a bleak and desolate land enough,
clothed for the most part in perpetual snow, and absolutely devoid of
any signs of habitation. The vegetation was so scanty that musk-oxen
or reindeer could not have supported life there, and the place
seemed to be given over entirely to Polar bears, foxes, and a few
migratory birds. Everything, however, depends on the point of view,
and it certainly seemed Paradise to the crew of the _Tegetthoff_.
Fortunately for them the ice soon became firmer, and they were able
to explore the new land with less fear of their line of retreat
being cut off. During the early spring Payer mapped out several
of the islands of which he found Franz Josef Land to consist, and
succeeded in penetrating as far north as Cape Fligely, the highest
point attained in the old world up till then. He also added several
new lands to the chart, which have been subsequently shown to be
non-existent, among them being King Oscar and Petermann Lands.
It was, of course, perfectly obvious that the ship must be abandoned,
and during the winter preparations were made for taking that step
as soon as spring came round. The objective was Nova Zembla, where
a depot of provisions had been established for them to meet
eventualities. They had no need to make use of that depot, however,
for while passing Cape Britwin, they fell in with a Russian schooner,
the _Nikolai_, which took them on board and brought them safely back
to Europe in September 1874.
CHAPTER XXIII
NARES AND SMITH SOUND
After the return of Sir Edward Belcher’s expedition in 1854 the
British Government was content to rest on its laurels, so far as
Arctic research was concerned, and to leave the field entirely to
Germans, Austrians, Americans, and to such private individuals as
cared to undertake the very heavy cost of equipping an expedition for
the Polar regions. In the year 1874, however, it once again awoke
to a sense of its responsibilities. There was still about the Pole
a tract of some two and a half million square miles which had never
been trodden by the foot of a civilised man, and it was felt by men
of science that no satisfactory data concerning the cause and the
track of storms, together with the thousand and one other things
concerning the sea which commercial nations wish to know, could be
obtained unless the Polar seas became rather less of a sealed book.
No time was lost in setting about the preparations, and in April
of the following year two ships were commissioned for the great
expedition of 1875-76, and the command was entrusted to Captain
George S. Nares. The ships in question were the _Alert_, a steam
sloop of 751 tons and 100 horse-power, and the _Discovery_, a
steamer of 556 tons and 96 horse-power, which, under the name of
the _Bloodhound_ had already seen service as a whaler. They were
fitted with all the most modern appliances, and were provisioned for
three years, while among the officers of the expedition were Albert
H. Markham, commander of the _Alert_, Pelham Aldrich, who served
as a lieutenant on the same ship, and Henry F. Stevenson, who was
appointed captain of the _Discovery_.
Accompanied by the store ship _Valorous_, from which they were to
take additional supplies at Godhaven, the two ships set sail from
Portsmouth on May 29, 1875. The passage across the Atlantic was long
and boisterous, but they eventually arrived at Godhaven on July 6,
where they parted company with the _Valorous_ after taking on board
everything in the way of provisions that they needed as well as
twenty-four Greenland dogs. At Ritenbenk they shipped more dogs,
together with two drivers, Petersen, the Dane who had served under
Hayes, and Frederick, an Eskimo. At Proven they touched again, to
pick up our old friend Hans Christian, whose family, undeterred by
their previous experiences on the ice-floe, once more insisted on
accompanying him. They reached Port Foulke on July 28, and had the
good fortune to find the entrance to Smith Sound entirely free from
ice. They were net, indeed, delayed until they reached Payer Harbour,
a little south of Cape Sabine, where they were beset in the ice for
several days, during which time Stevenson occupied himself with
exploring Foulke Fiord, while Nares visited Littleton Island and Life
Boat Cove and examined the _cache_ left behind by the _Polaris_.
The journey northward was pursued with very varying fortunes. The
ice was exceedingly bad, and when the ships were not actually beset
in it, they were occupied in charging their way through it. Little by
little, however, they made their way up the channel, caching large
stores of provisions as they went, among the chief being a depot of
3600 rations on the Carey Islands, another depot of the same size at
Cape Hawks, and one of 1000 rations at Cape Lincoln.
But ice was not the only difficulty with which Nares had to contend,
for Hayes’ chart was a source of perpetual annoyance to him, and
a great part of his time was spent in correcting its errors. Cape
Frazer was placed eight miles and Scoresby Bay twenty miles too far
north, and the rest of the western coast was so badly delineated
that Nares pathetically remarked that it was often difficult to know
exactly where he was.
Hugging the western shore and taking advantage of every channel that
opened near the ship, he succeeded in reaching Lady Franklin Bay, on
the other side of which he found a land-locked inlet; this he named
Discovery Harbour, and in it he decided to leave his companion ship
while he himself pushed on in the _Alert_.
As he ascended the strait he observed that the character of the ice
changed rapidly. Off Cape Sabine the biggest floes were only eight or
ten feet thick; off Cape Fraser their thickness increased to twenty
feet, and the ice was obviously older, “but,” he says, “up to the
present time, when the main pack consisted entirely of heavy ice, I
had failed to observe that, instead of approaching a region favoured
with open water and a warm climate, we were gradually nearing a
sea where the ice was of a totally different formation to what we
had ever before experienced, that few Arctic navigators had met,
and only one battled with successfully; that in reality we must be
approaching the same sea which gives birth to the heavy ice met with
off the coast of America by Collinson and M’Clure, and which the
latter in 1851 succeeded in navigating through in a sailing vessel
for upwards of 100 miles, ... which Sir Edward Parry met with in the
same channel in 1820, ... which, passing onwards to the eastward from
Melville Strait down M’Clintock Channel, beset, and never afterwards
released, the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ under Sir John Franklin and
Captain Crozier; and which, intermixed with light Spitzbergen ice,
is constantly streaming to the southward along the eastern shore of
Greenland, and there destroyed the _Hansa_ of the last German Arctic
expedition.” In other words, Nares was in the middle of the ice
formed in the Polar Sea, now known as Palæocrystic, and was the first
man really to understand its character.
With some difficulty, the _Alert_ succeeded in making her way as far
as Floeberg Reach, in lat. 82° 25´ N., long. 62° W., the highest
point yet attained by a ship. Here Nares determined to spend the
winter, for, though the situation seemed at first sight to be rather
exposed, it was well protected by a fringe of heavy floes which were
grounded in eight to twelve fathoms of water. No land was to be seen
to the northward, and Nares was forced to come to the conclusion
that, though he had reached the shores of the Arctic Ocean, it was
the very reverse of that open Polar sea which he had hoped to find.
On September 16 the ship was effectually frozen in for the winter,
and ten days later Captain Markham, Lieutenant Parr, and Lieutenant
May set off on a sledging expedition with the object of establishing
depots of provisions as far north as they could. They accomplished
their work well, but at terrible cost, for seven men and one
officer returned to the ship badly frost-bitten, and in three cases
amputations were necessary. At the same time Pelham Aldrich went
out on an exploring trip in which he succeeded in reaching Parry’s
latitude of 82° 48′ N.
The winter was fairly fine, but bitterly cold—the coldest, in fact,
on record. The _Alert_ experienced a mean temperature for five
days and nine hours of 66.29° below zero, while for two separate
periods of fifteen days each the mercury remained frozen. In the
middle of March Lieutenants Egerton and Rawson attempted to open
up communications with the _Discovery_, but the attempt ended with
disaster, for Petersen, who accompanied them, was taken ill on the
journey, and the whole party had to return. The two officers made
the most heroic exertions to bring him back to health, depriving
themselves of their own warm clothing and suffering severely in
consequence. Their efforts were, however, of no avail, for Petersen
was found to be so badly frost-bitten that both his feet had to be
amputated, and three months later he died of exhaustion. Setting out
again, Rawson and Egerton, accompanied by two sailors, reached the
_Discovery_, and found that her crew had passed a comfortable winter,
though one man was down with scurvy.
As soon as April came round Nares began the serious work of the
spring by sending out two great sledge parties, one of which, under
Commander Markham, was to push as far north as possible, while the
other, under Lieutenant Aldrich, was to explore the northern shores
of Grinnell Land.
Having been accompanied by a supporting party as far as Cape Henry,
Markham set out over the Polar Sea on April 10, 1876. Fearing that
they might chance upon an open sea, the party took with it two boats,
which added greatly to their labours, making it necessary for them to
cover every mile of their journey four times. Their way, moreover,
lay in peculiarly unpleasant places, for the ice-field over which
they had to travel was like a frozen ocean, the depressions between
the waves being filled with snow and broken pack-ice. One of the
boats was soon abandoned, but the men dragged the other as far as
lat. 83° 20´, the highest point attained up to that time.
The homeward journey was even more trying, for scurvy had broken out
among the men, five out of the seventeen had to be placed on the
sledges, and many of the others could barely drag themselves over
the ice. It soon became obvious that they could not reach the ship
without assistance, so Lieutenant Parr gallantly volunteered to set
out by himself, and performed the truly astonishing feat of covering
the thirty miles which lay between his starting-point and the ship
in twenty-four hours. The help that he brought back was only just in
time, for one man died on the way, while eleven of the others had to
be dragged to the ship on sledges.
In many ways Markham’s journey was one of the most extraordinary on
record. Instead of advancing at a steady walk, more than half of
each day was spent by the whole party facing the sledge and dragging
it forward a few feet at a time. The maximum rate of advance was 2¾
miles a day, the mean rate being 1¼, while, though the distance from
the ship to their farthest point was only 73 miles, on the outward
and homeward journeys they actually covered no less than 521 miles.
Aldrich’s expedition also suffered severely from scurvy, but
succeeded, nevertheless, in doing excellent work, by exploring the
northern shores of Grinnell Land for 220 miles, that is to say, as
far as lat. 82° 16′ N., 86° W. Fortunately Nares, becoming anxious
about Aldrich’s safety, sent out Lieutenant May and two sailors to
relieve him. It was as well that he did so, for he found that only
Aldrich and one man were in a fit condition to haul, and the whole
party would probably have perished if it had not been for his timely
aid.
Lieutenant Beaumont’s expedition from the _Discovery_ also very
nearly ended in disaster from the same cause. He was especially
detailed to explore the coast of Greenland to the north, and so
well did he fulfil his mission that he far outdistanced all his
predecessors, and succeeded in reaching lat. 82° 20′ N., 51° W. The
homeward journey was a long and stern fight against disease, which
seemed likely to end in disaster when, on reaching Robeson Channel,
he found the ice too rotten to permit them to cross to the _Alert_.
Fortunately Rawson and Dr Coppinger arrived just in time to save all
of the party but two.
There were now no fewer than thirty-six cases of scurvy on the
_Alert_ alone, and Nares decided to return as soon as he could break
out of winter quarters. He was released at the end of July, and in
October both ships reached England in safety, after a remarkably
successful voyage, in which great tracts of entirely new country had
been opened up.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE GREELY TRAGEDY
Valuable as were the immediate results of Lieutenant Charles
Weyprecht’s voyage in the _Tegetthoff_, its indirect results were
greater still, for he came back from his adventurous journey full
of plans for revolutionising the manner in which Arctic exploration
had been conducted. Up to that time each nation or each group of
individuals had gone on its own way, practically regardless of the
scientific or geographic work of the others, and there had been no
attempt to solve the mysteries of the Arctic regions by concerted
action. In an address delivered before the German Scientific and
Medical Association of Gratz in 1875, however, Weyprecht suggested
that the chief of the nations engaged in Arctic research should
establish a number of stations round the Pole, whereat a series
of simultaneous observations should be made. As a result of this
address, Bismarck appointed a commission of leading men of science
to consider Weyprecht’s proposal, and this commission came to the
conclusion that the work would be of the greatest value, and that
the united action of several nations was essential to its success.
Out of these beginnings gradually grew the International Circumpolar
Conference of 1879. Its first meeting, which was held at Hamburg,
was principally devoted to the discussion of business, and eleven
nations promised their support. The second conference, which met at
Berne in August 1880, decided definitely on the plan of action to
be employed, and adopted a scheme of observations, obligatory and
optional, for use at the fifteen stations which it was proposed to
establish.
Of the fifteen stations ultimately established, Denmark,
Germany, Russia and the United States occupied two each, while
Austria-Hungary, Finland, France, Great Britain, Holland, Norway
and Sweden established one each. In addition, thirty-four permanent
observatories promised their co-operation, with the result that
during several succeeding years important observations were being
simultaneously conducted by competent men of science at forty-nine
different stations, all of them either actually in or in the
immediate neighbourhood of the Polar regions.
With the work of most of these expeditions we need not concern
ourselves at all. It was of a purely scientific nature, and the
curious may find it all set forth in the thirty-one quarto volumes of
the International Polar Scientific Publications, a set which contains
by far the greatest collection of scientific Arctic data extant.
The only party of the fifteen which we need follow, indeed, is that
which America sent out, under the command of Lieutenant A. W. Greely,
to establish a station in Lady Franklin Bay, on the east coast of
Grinnell Land, in the district visited by Nares in 1875.
The plan of the expedition, briefly put, was as follows: Greely,
who was a lieutenant in the Signalling Department of the United
States Army, was to sail on the _Proteus_, a sealer of 467 tons,
with a party of twenty-five, in the spring of 1881. The _Proteus_
was to make direct for Lady Franklin Bay, where he was to land the
expedition and then return home. It was arranged that a vessel should
visit the station with supplies in 1882 and again in 1883. In the
event of her being prevented from reaching the headquarters of the
party, she was to _cache_ quantities of supplies on the east coast of
Grinnell Land, and to establish a depot on Littleton Island. If no
vessel succeeded in reaching Lady Franklin Bay in 1882, the ship sent
out in 1883 was to remain in Smith Sound so long as the conditions
permitted, and, before leaving, was to land a party with everything
necessary for a winter’s stay on Littleton Island. It was hoped that
thus the safety of Greely and his men would be assured.
Unfortunately, it seems that the cabinet minister who was responsible
for the equipment of the party was not too well disposed towards it.
The funds placed at its disposal were quite inadequate, with the
result that Greely was obliged to exercise the most rigid economy
in purchasing his stores, while, owing to a number of vexatious and
quite unnecessary delays in the delivery of papers and so forth, he
had to rush through his final preparations in an inconveniently short
space of time. Eventually, however, the equipment was completed on
an adequate, but by no means liberal scale, and the _Proteus_ set
sail from St John’s, Newfoundland, on July 7, 1881. It was not until
she reached Hall Basin, and when she was actually in sight of her
destination, that she was first delayed by ice. Fortunately, however,
she was equipped with steam, so that she soon charged her way through
the barrier and landed the members of the expedition in Discovery
Harbour, the place finally selected for their headquarters.
Here they found themselves in a delightful spot. Dryas, saxefrage,
sedges, grasses and buttercups clothed the hill slopes and river
banks, and there was animal life in abundance. No sooner were they
ashore than the men set about building their quarters, a work which
they executed with such dispatch that in a fortnight they had made
themselves an exceedingly comfortable house, which they named Fort
Conger. Unfortunately, even at this early stage of the proceedings,
the party does not seem to have been on harmonious terms, and it
appears that Greely, able officer though he was, had an unfortunate
way of alienating the sympathy of his followers. The first signs
of this friction appeared when, eight days after the landing, the
_Proteus_ sailed for home, and took with her one or two volunteers
who had intended to take part in the work of the expedition but
found it impossible to stay. When she was on the point of starting
again, Lieutenant Kislingbury, one of the regular officers of the
expedition, expressed himself dissatisfied with the manner in which
affairs were being conducted and asked permission to return. This was
granted him, but he missed the ship and was obliged to return to the
station. From that time onward Greely hardly spoke to him, and though
he did splendid work as a huntsman for the party and showed himself
anxious to forward its interests in every possible way, he was never
asked to resume his official connection with it.
The earlier days of their stay at Fort Conger were spent in making
short sledge expeditions and in laying down depots of provisions
at Cape Beechey and Cape Murchison. Under the direction of the
astronomer Israel, too, scientific investigations were pursued with
the utmost zeal, and many exceedingly valuable results were obtained.
As soon as spring came round again sledging expeditions were sent out
in all directions, and some members of the party had rather curious
experiences. For example, Pavy, the doctor of the mission, and a
small party, went off on a voyage of discovery in the direction of
the winter quarters of the _Alert_, which they reached in safety.
Eight days later, however, they were unwise enough to take refuge
from a storm on an iceberg. To their horror and alarm, the gale
separated their berg from the main pack and sent it sailing towards
the north. They had reached lat. 82° 56´ N., and were beginning to
wonder whether they would ever return again when, by good luck, their
raft drifted towards the shore which they succeeded in reaching, but
only with great difficulty.
While Pavy and his companions were indulging in their perilous
voyage, Lieutenant J. B. Lockwood, one of the most indefatigable
members of the mission, was making an extraordinary journey up the
west coast of Greenland. He left Fort Conger on April 3 with orders
to explore the coast near Cape Britannia and thence to press on in
any direction which he thought fit. The ice was rough, the gales
were violent, and the cold was intense, the thermometer sometimes
sinking as low as 81° below freezing point. In spite of these
difficulties, however, he pushed rapidly on, and on April 27 he
reached Cape Bryant. Thence he sent back all of his men except two,
Sergeant Brainard and Christiansen, and with these companions he made
his way forward with renewed ardour. In the course of his journey he
crossed Sherard Osborn Fiord, passed the highest point reached by
Beaumont in 1876, doubled Cape May, climbed Cape Britannia, and, on
May 13, reached Lockwood Island, the highest point attained by any
Arctic explorer up to that time (83° 24′ N. 42° 45′ W.). Some miles
to the north he saw Cape Washington, the most northern known land,
but he was unable to determine whether or not there was land beyond
it. Lockwood and his companions then set out on the return journey,
reaching Fort Conger without misadventure on June 1.
The summer was very warm indeed. The snow melted and uncovered
traces of Eskimo habitations, while some of the party actually saw
butterflies and bumblebees. But of the ship which they were expecting
there was not a trace. As, however, they were amply provisioned for
another winter there was no cause for immediate alarm.
In the spring of 1883 Lockwood attempted to repeat his exploit of
the previous year, but the conditions were against him, and he had
to return without fulfilling his object. He immediately set out to
assist Greely in his exploration of the interior of Grinnell Land, a
work which had been begun during the previous summer. The results
of their efforts showed that that country is a positive Paradise
compared with most Arctic lands. It is intersected by rivers and
long fertile valleys in which browsed herds of musk-oxen, while an
enormous glacial lake, some five hundred square miles in area and
fed by glaciers, which they named Lake Hazen, was one of its most
remarkable features.
August brought with it no sign of the expected ship, and Greely now
saw that he must set about his homeward journey in his boats without
delay. Accordingly, on August 9, he and his companions started away
from Fort Conger in their steam launch, two boats and a dingy, taking
with them every scrap of food that they could stow away into the
small accommodation at their command. The voyage was difficult and
dangerous, for the heavy spring tides, rising twenty-five feet and
more, combined with violent gales, kept the ice pack in constant
motion against the precipitous and rock-bound coast. What with the
delays caused by the weather and the constant stoppages which they
were obliged to make in order to pick up every _cache_, however
small, that had been laid down during the years of their stay at
Discovery Harbour, it took them sixteen days to cover the two hundred
miles which lay between their starting-place and Cape Hawks. Worse,
however, was to come, for off Bache Island the boats were frozen into
the ice so securely that they had no choice but to abandon them,
and so adverse were the conditions that nineteen days were spent in
struggling to the shore which was only thirteen miles distant when
they started for it.
At last, however, they succeeded in effecting a landing between Cape
Sabine and Cape Isabella, but they were now really in little better
case than before. They were all in good health, it is true, and they
had saved their instruments and the valuable records of their doings,
but they were desperately short of provisions, and the shore on which
they found themselves was inhospitable in the last degree. However,
there was nothing for it but to make the best of a bad business.
Accordingly, some set about hunting, some started the erection of
winter quarters, while others went out in search of cairns and
records. It was on Cape Sabine that one of these parties found a
record which told them why the _Proteus_ had not put in an appearance
at Lady Franklin Sound. While on her way thither in July 1883, the
record said, she had been crushed by the ice north of the Cape, and
rendered absolutely useless for further service. She had, however,
left a store of provisions there, and her commander, Lieutenant E.
A. Garlington, left a message there to say that he would attempt to
join the U.S.S. _Yantic_ with all possible rapidity with a view to
obtaining immediate succour for the distressed party. Unfortunately
for them, the _Yantic_, which was under orders to repair to Littleton
Island, was only a fair-weather vessel, and could render them no
assistance whatever.
Greely repaired immediately to Cape Sabine, and erected winter
quarters on Bedford Pim Island. The _cache_ spoken of by Garlington
was there, it is true, but it was miserably inadequate, and the party
found themselves face to face with the terrible necessity of passing
a long Arctic winter poorly housed, inadequately clad, and with only
forty days’ rations. From that time Greely’s diary is one long tale
of horror. Hunger, starvation and scurvy played fearful havoc among
the men, and their condition soon became deplorable. Up till the
beginning of April the expedition had only lost one of its members,
but the 5th of that month saw the beginning of the end, and from that
day onwards deaths were terribly frequent. Lockwood, Kislingbury,
Israel, the astronomer, and Dr Pavy all sickened and died within a
few weeks of one another; Rice, the photographer, perished while
attempting to take up a cache; Jens died while out hunting; while
Henry, who acted as cook, had to be executed for stealing from the
small store of provisions left to the famine-stricken men.
At last, on June 22, 1884, Greely was astonished to hear the sound of
a steamer’s whistle. He was too weak to leave the hut himself, but
one of the few survivors of his party brought in news of the arrival
of two relief ships, the _Thetis_ and the _Bear_, under the command
of Captain W. S. Schley and Commander H. H. Emory. No time was lost
in taking Greely and his men on board, and they were conveyed back to
America forthwith, one more death taking place on the voyage.
We now come to a part of the story which is omitted from most
histories of this expedition, but which ought to be given in full,
terrible though it unquestionably is. We have already mentioned that
the Secretary for War of that day, Mr Robert T. Lincoln, was not
too well disposed towards the expedition from the start, and that
he put many difficulties in its way before it left American shores.
Incredible though it may seem, it was in the same spirit that the
authorities approached the relief expeditions, and there can be no
question whatever that most, if not all, of Greely’s men could have
been saved if the original plans had been properly carried out.
As we have already seen, in the summer of 1883 the _Proteus_ started
off, accompanied by the _Yantic_, under Captain Wilde, with orders
either to bring Greely home or to establish an ample depot of
provisions on Littleton Island. The command of the _Proteus_ was
entrusted to Captain Pike, while Lieutenant Garlington, who had
volunteered for the service, was placed at the head of the entire
expedition. The initial mistake was made when the _Yantic_ was
allowed to sail with her boilers in a very poor state of repair,
necessitating an early visit to a Greenland port. Consequently, she
was unable to accompany the _Proteus_ far north, as was originally
designed. Wilde, however, was given orders to join Garlington at
Littleton Island with as little delay as possible.
Near the entrance to Smith Sound the _Proteus_ was stopped by ice.
Garlington, however, while prospecting from a hill not far from Payer
Harbour, saw a lead of open water through what had hitherto been
solid ice, and, returning to the ship, he ordered Pike to proceed
up it. Pike, who had had great experience of ice, said that he did
not like the look of it and would prefer to wait a few days, as the
season was still very early. Garlington, however, insisted, and Pike
had, of course, no choice but to obey his orders. The result was
that the _Proteus_ was caught in the ice and sank. Before the ship
went down, some 3000 rations or more were landed on the floe, but,
a portion of the ice detaching itself, seven or eight hundred were
allowed to drift away, together with a number of dogs, Garlington
refusing to make an effort to save them. Of the 2000 rations or more
taken eventually to Cape Sabine, Garlington only left 500 for Greely,
loading the boats with the remainder and reserving them for his own
use.
He then proceeded to Littleton Island. Here there was no lack of
game, and, as he had plenty of ammunition, he could easily have
formed a splendid depot of provisions for the explorers whom he must
have known would be in dire straits during the winter. He knew this,
and he knew that the _Yantic_ was bound by his orders to join him
at Littleton Island, yet nothing would suit him but to start off at
once in his boats to meet her. Lieutenant Colwell offered to go off
for this purpose in the whaler while Garlington laid in a store of
provisions; the offer was rejected. Pike urged him to wait for a
few days as there could be no doubt that the _Yantic_ would cross
Melville Bay in safety; the advice was rejected. Events showed that
Pike was right, for the _Yantic_ reached Littleton Island three days
after Garlington and his men had left it, having, of course, missed
them on the way. Wilde now had no choice but to put about and look
for the crew of the _Proteus_, and he eventually succeeded in finding
them on the coast of Greenland.
Now comes the most astonishing part of the whole story. No sooner
was Garlington on board than he gave Wilde orders to sail straight
for home, although the navigable season was not yet half over, and
although he had left behind a message for Greely reporting the loss
of the _Proteus_, stating that he was rejoining the _Yantic_, and
adding that “everything in the power of man” should be done to rescue
him.
The _Yantic_ made a good passage home, and even then it would have
been easy to equip and send out a special vessel to Cape Sabine,
for whaling captains were all agreed that a boat leaving New York
as late as September 19 could reach Cape Sabine in safety. General
Hazen, the chief signalling-officer, entreated Lincoln to purchase
and dispatch a vessel at once; nothing was done. Lieutenant Melville,
of whom we shall have cause to say more in connection with the
_Jeannette_ expedition, offered to take a party there himself; his
offer was not accepted, and shortly afterwards Lincoln expressed his
conviction that it was now too late. As events proved, Melville Bay
was navigable that year for forty-five days after that “too late” was
uttered, and many of Greely’s companions paid for the mistake with
their lives.
This story is one of the very few dark spots on the history of
Arctic exploration. No one, of course, would dream of accusing
either Lieutenant Garlington or the Secretary for War of wilfully
sacrificing the lives of their fellow men, but it is extraordinary
that, while they knew that there was the barest likelihood of Greely
and his men starving to death on a barren and inhospitable shore
where there was no chance of their obtaining food, they should have
neglected to use their utmost effort to save them.
CHAPTER XXV
NORDENSKIÖLD AND HIS WORK
Of all the men who have added to the world’s scientific knowledge of
the Polar regions there is none who has made his name more famous
than Adolph Erik Nordenskiöld. The data that he collected, and the
discoveries that he made on his many voyages to the Arctic world have
proved invaluable, and his explorations have not merely been rich in
scientific and geographical results, but they have also benefited
the mercantile world by opening up new fields for enterprise, and
proving the practicability of routes which had always been regarded
as absolutely hopeless.
Nordenskiöld was born at Helsingfors, the capital of Finland, on
Nov. 18, 1832. His father was a well-known naturalist, and the
head of the mining department of Finland, and it was to his early
training that the son owed his first instruction in that particular
branch of science of which he was destined to become one of the
leading lights. Honours crowded thickly upon him, and he was already
becoming one of the most noted mineralogists in Sweden when, at
the age of twenty-six, he joined Professor Torrell’s expedition
to Spitzbergen. Neither with this expedition nor with that of
1861, in which he served under the same leader, need we concern
ourselves. In 1864, however, that is to say, in the year after
Spitzbergen had been circumnavigated for the first time by the
Norwegian Carlsen, the illness of Professor Chydenius, who was to
have acted as leader of the Swedish expedition of that year, left
the command of the expedition open. It was offered to Nordenskiöld,
who, of course, accepted it. This party was sent out with a view
not only to pursuing scientific researches in Spitzbergen, but
also to exploring the unknown regions to the north of that island.
The first part of his task Nordenskiöld fulfilled admirably, among
other things rediscovering Wiche Land, which had not been sighted
since Thomas Edge chanced upon it in 1617; he was only prevented
from fulfilling the second by the fact that he fell in with seven
boatloads of shipwrecked walrus hunters to whom, of course, he had to
give succour. This placed so severe a strain upon his commissariat
department that he was obliged to desist from his original intention.
To Nordenskiöld’s deep regret, the Swedish Government now came to
the conclusion that it had done enough in the way of Arctic research
for the present. The explorer, however, had acquired a taste for
Arctic travel, and he was by no means inclined to give in without a
murmur. Accordingly, he approached Count Ehrensvärd, the Governor
of Gothenburg, upon the subject, and through his kind offices a
fund was raised by such mercantile princes as Dickson, Ekman and
Carnegie, with the result that, in 1868, he was able to depart upon
an expedition during the course of which he succeeded in attaining to
a higher point than ever explorer in the old world had reached in a
ship.
On his return Oscar Dickson, who proved a veritable Maecenas
to Nordenskiöld, asked him if he would not like to continue his
researches in that direction, and it need hardly be said that his
protégé jumped at the offer. The new expedition was to be on a far
larger scale than any of its predecessors, for Nordenskiöld was to
winter on the north coast of Spitzbergen and was to push on thence
over the ice as far as the conditions permitted. One of the first
questions to be considered was that of draught animals, and, with a
view to deciding the rival merits of dogs and reindeer, Nordenskiöld
repaired to Greenland to get up the case for the dogs, while Dickson
conducted inquiries into the ways of the deer. It was during this
visit to Greenland that Nordenskiöld made his first raid upon the
inland ice, of which details are given elsewhere. The result of these
inquiries was a verdict in favour of the deer, the reasons being that
they were the more easily fed and that they could be killed and eaten
if the expedition chanced to run short of provisions.
No pains were spared to make the equipment as complete as possible,
and, accompanied by two provision ships, the _Gladen_ and the _Onkle
Adam_, the party sallied forth on their adventures with high hopes
of accomplishing great things. The fates, however, were against
them, and a heavy misfortune befell them soon after their arrival
at their winter quarters in Mussel Bay. The original plan had been
that the convoy ships should unload and should then return home,
but, on September 16, a terrific storm arose, as a result of which
the ships found themselves so firmly beset in the ice that there
was no prospect of escape that year. Furthermore, the reindeer
took advantage of the storm to effect their escape, and only one
of them was ever found again. This was especially unfortunate,
as Nordenskiöld had been depending upon them not merely for the
prosecution of his plans, but also for that supply of fresh meat
which would be so necessary if scurvy were to break out.
As there were now 67 mouths to feed instead of 24, the only course
for the commander to pursue was to cut down the daily rations by
one-third, and this he accordingly proceeded to do. The men took
the misfortune in a spirit of praiseworthy resignation, but their
fortitude was strongly tried a few days later when the news was
sprung upon them that six walrus-vessels had been frozen in at Point
Grey and Cape Welcome, that their crews numbered 58, and that,
with care and economy, their provisions might be made to last till
December 1, after which they would have to ask Nordenskiöld to help
them. It need hardly be said that the explorer was not overjoyed at
the prospect, more especially as with so many to feed and so little
to eat it was morally certain that they would all starve to death
before the end of the winter. Fortunately, however, he knew that a
Swedish settlement at Cape Thörsden, some 200 miles away, had been
abandoned that year, and that a good store of provisions had been
left behind. He accordingly bargained with the hunters that some of
their party should repair thither, and that he would support the
rest to the best of his ability when their own stock of provisions
had run out. With a view to economising his own so far as possible
he tried the experiment of converting his now useless reindeer moss
into bread. The recipe is not one to be commended to the notice of
epicures in search of a novelty, but it was found to be just eatable.
This precaution, however, fortunately proved unnecessary, for two
of the walrus-ships were released in a gale, and the hunters made
their escape. Those of them who went to Cape Thörsden showed such a
complete disregard for the laws of hygiene that they all died during
the winter.
As was only inevitable in the circumstances, outbreaks of scurvy were
frequent, but they proved amenable to treatment. The huntsmen of
the party were lucky enough to shoot seven reindeer, which formed a
welcome addition to the poorly filled larder. “These,” says Leslie,
“were reins in winter dress. The whole body was covered with a very
close winter coat of hair several inches thick. The head, nearly
indistinguishable from the neck, was short and thick, with broad nose
and eyes visible on careful scrutiny. The trunk appeared shapeless,
and the legs short and clumsy. This peculiarly shapeless appearance
is owing not merely to the coat of long hair, but also to the thick
layer of fat with which at this season the whole mass of muscle
therein is surrounded. It is, indeed, surprising how this animal can
collect such a mass of fat in Spitzbergen, where the vegetation is so
scanty and the summer so short. In spring, even in the end of June,
they are only, as people say, skin and bone; but in autumn, by the
end of August, and throughout September, they resemble fat cattle,
and have their flesh so surrounded and impregnated with fat that it
is for many nearly uneatable.”
As soon as spring came round Nordenskiöld set out upon his northern
journey. Any hopes that he might have entertained of being able to
push far north were soon dashed to the ground, for at Seven Islands
he found the ice so bad that it was useless for him to attempt to
cross it. He decided, therefore, to proceed with what was really
the more valuable work of examining North-East Land, with a view to
determining its geological structure and to settling its eastern
limit, which had always been a vexed question. Round the shore the
ice was rough and hummocky, and going was slow in consequence. On
June 1 the explorers were obliged to take to the inland ice, the sea
front of which, it may be said, presents the largest known glacier.
Here their way became perilous as well as merely difficult. “Scarcely
had we advanced 2000 feet,” says Nordenskiöld, “before one of our
men disappeared at a place where the ice was quite level, and so
instantaneously that he could not even give a cry for help. When we,
affrighted, looked into the hole made where he disappeared, we found
him hanging on the drag-line, to which he was fastened with reindeer
harness, over a deep abyss. He was hoisted out unhurt.” Accidents
like these were of frequent occurrence, while the monotony of the
journey was also varied by a long series of canals 30 to 100 feet
wide, with vertical walls sometimes 40 feet high. These canals were
often crossed by snow bridges which had a way of collapsing under the
travellers’ feet, but none of the men came to any serious harm.
Nordenskiöld’s original plan of making for Cape Mohn was put out of
the question by an impassable terrain, and he accordingly descended
into Hinlopen Strait at Wahlenberg Bay and thence returned to his
headquarters. There the party had the good fortune to be found by the
English yachtsman, Leigh Smith, who relieved them of all fears for
the future.
Valuable though Nordenskiöld’s earlier voyages were, it is, perhaps,
as the discoverer of the North-East passage that his name will be
best remembered. For centuries the idea of finding a way to China
along the coast of Asia had been allowed to lapse, largely, of
course, because other and easier routes were open to all those who
cared to use them. In 1875, however, the subject was revived, and
Oscar Dickson expressed himself willing to fit out an expedition
which should be commanded by Nordenskiöld. It was thought advisable
to send out a small preliminary expedition to spy out the way,
and accordingly in the same year Nordenskiöld started off in the
_Proven_, a small ship of 70 tons, and succeeded in reaching the
mouth of the Yenesei, a feat never before accomplished. The value of
his journey was, however, rather discounted in some quarters, and
many authorities held that his success was largely due to the fact
that the ice was unusually favourable in that year, and that he would
be unable to repeat the performance in any ordinary season. With a
view to silencing these critics, Nordenskiöld sailed from Tromsö
in the _Ymer_ on July 25, 1876, and anchored off the mouth of the
Yenesei on August 15, thus proving the Arctic route to be perfectly
practicable, and opening up a way which has since proved of some
value.
These two successes made Nordenskiöld all the more determined to
make the complete voyage from Tromsö to the Behring Strait; and so
convincingly did he argue his case, that he succeeded in obtaining
a grant from the Swedish Diet, which, with contributions from Oscar
Dickson, King Oscar, and M. Sibiriakoff, enabled him to fit out
the _Vega_, and to set sail in her from Tromsö on July 21, 1878,
accompanied by the collier _Express_, the _Frazier_, with a cargo for
the Yenesei, and the _Lena_, which was to make for Yakutsk.
The Kara Strait was perfectly free of ice, and here the _Vega_ took
the coal from the _Express_ into her own bunkers. The dreaded Kara
Sea was also safely negotiated, and on August 10 the two ships of
which the expedition now consisted were lying off the mouth of the
Yenesei. From this point onward Nordenskiöld was in a state of
nervous tension, for he might at any moment be pulled up by the ice.
Cape Chelyuskin, however, the most northerly point of Asia, was
rounded successfully, the New Siberian Islands were passed, and on
September 12 the _Vega_ was nearing the promontory of Irkaipi, on the
other side of which lay the Behring Strait, the _Lena_ having left
her at the river after which she was named.
Nordenskiöld was now within 120 miles of his destination, and his
ambition to complete the passage in a single voyage seemed on the
verge of fulfilment, when his ship was caught in the ice, and so
firmly frozen in that all hopes of getting her free again that winter
had to be abandoned. The _Vega_ was lying off a Chukche village,
and Nordenskiöld and his assistants at once set about gaining some
knowledge of the manners and customs of the natives. One of them,
he tells us, “carried a Greek cross on his neck. He appeared to
have been baptised, but his Christianity did not amount to much.
He crossed himself with much zeal to the sun in our presence. This
was the only trace of religion or religious observance that we
could discover.” During his intercourse with the natives, Norquist
succeeded in learning about a thousand words of their languages,
while other members of the party made many valuable ethnographical
observations.
On July 18, 1879, the _Vega_ was set free, and on the 20th she
rounded the East Cape, thus being the first ship to accomplish the
difficult passage in a single journey.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE STORY OF THE “JEANNETTE”
There is a double interest attached to the voyage of the _Jeannette_,
for not only is the story itself one of the most terrible tragedies
in the whole history of Arctic exploration, but, as will be seen
later, it was the fate of the unlucky ship which prompted Nansen to
formulate his plan for reaching the Pole by forcing his ship into the
ice, and allowing her to drift north with the current.
The _Jeannette_ expedition owed its inception to Mr J. G. Bennett
of the _New York Herald_, who had frequently shown his interest in
Arctic research by equipping and sending out vessels at his own
expense. He purchased the _Pandora_ from Sir Allen Young, renamed
her the _Jeannette_, and placed her under the command of Commander
De Long, who had been a member of the relief expedition sent out to
the succour of the _Polaris_. Admirably fitted out in every detail
both for navigation and for scientific research, the _Jeannette_
set sail from San Francisco on July 8, 1879. After a brief call at
St Michael’s, where she took on board sledges, furs, dogs, and two
Alaskan dog-drivers, she set sail once more and made for Behring
Strait.
The plan of the expedition was to spend the winter at Wrangel
Land, and then to push on northward, if possible to the Pole.
Unfortunately for De Long’s arrangements, however, the Wrangel Land
of the geographers of the day had no real existence, and he was
destined never to reach it. For over a century it had been held, on
the strength of Chukche reports, that a vast continent existed to the
north of Asia, which extended right across the Pole to Greenland. No
less an authority than the great Petermann himself believed in it,
and the reports of the American whaler, Thomas Long, who discovered
Wrangel Land in 1867, and of other whalers who followed him, tended
to confirm this theory, for the newly discovered land seemed to be of
considerable extent. Accordingly, De Long had every reason to suppose
that here he would find comfortable quarters for the winter.
He was very soon to be disillusioned, however, for before he was
within a hundred miles of the land, the _Jeannette_ was caught in the
ice, and from that time onward her story bore a painful resemblance
to that of the _Tegetthoff_, without any of its compensations.
Drifted constantly westward by the ever-moving pack, now nipped
till her seams almost sprang apart, now threatened with a terrible
destruction by the frozen waves of ice which rolled down upon her,
she was before long reduced to a most pitiable plight. Here is the
description penned by her chief engineer, G. W. Melville, of an event
which was of almost daily occurrence:—
“It was observed that, during the continuance of the wind, the
whole body of ice moved evenly before it; but, when it subsided,
the mass that had been put in motion crowded and tumbled upon
the far-off floes at rest, piling tumultuously upward in a manner
terrific to behold. It was in one of these oppressive intervals
succeeding a gale, when the roar and crash of the distant masses
could be distinctly heard, that the floe in which the _Jeannette_ was
embedded began splitting in all directions. The placid and almost
level surface of ice suddenly heaved and swelled into great hills,
buzzing and wheezing dolefully. Giant blocks pitched and rolled as
though controlled by invisible hands; and the vast compressing bodies
shrieked a shrill and horrible song that curdled the blood. On came
the frozen waves, nearer and nearer. Seams ran and rattled across
them with a thundering boom, while silent and awestruck, we watched
their terrible progress. Sunk in an amphitheatre about five-eighths
of a mile in diameter lay the ship, the bank of moving ice puffed
in places to a height of 50 feet, gradually enclosing her on all
sides. Preparations were made for her abandonment; but—what then?
If the mighty circle continued to decrease, escape was hopeless,
death inevitable. To think of clambering up the slippery sides of
the rolling mass would be equal folly with an attempt to scale the
falling waters of Niagara.”
Summer came on the heels of winter, but it brought no prospect of
release to the wretched crew of the _Jeannette_. They had already
drifted past the northern coast of Wrangel Land, and had found it to
be nothing but an island of moderate dimensions, and there were no
signs of that mythical continent upon which De Long had been pinning
his hopes. The new year found them still held in the relentless grip
of the pack. Here is the comment upon his situation which De Long
penned in his diary:—
“People beset in the pack before always drifted somewhere to some
land; but we are drifting about like a modern _Flying Dutchman_,
never getting anywhere, but always restless and on the move. Coals
are burning up, food is being consumed, the pumps are still going,
and thirty-three people are wearing out their lives and souls like
men doomed to imprisonment for life. If this next summer comes and
goes like the last without any result, what reasonable mind can be
patient in contemplation of the future?”
On May 16 a slight diversion was caused by the discovery of two
islands, which they named Jeannette Island and Henriette Island. De
Long started off on a sledging expedition to them, and, like many
other Arctic explorers, had great trouble with his dogs, which, in
accordance with the traditions of their race, refused to face the
open water, and had to be dragged, sledges and all, through every
lead that intersected their path. “There is no greater violence done
the eternal cause of truth,” says the commander, “than in those
pictures where the Eskimos are represented as calmly sitting in
shoe-shaped sledges with the lashes of their long whips trailing
gracefully behind, while the dogs dash in full cry and perfect unison
across smooth expanses of snow. If depicted ‘true to nature,’ the
scene changes its aspect considerably; it is quite as full of action,
but not of progress. A pandemonium of horrors—dogs yelling, barking,
snapping, and fighting; the leaders in the rear and the wheelers in
the middle, all tied in a knot, and as hopelessly tangled up as a
basketful of eels.”
On Sunday June 12 the pressure became so tremendous that the ship
cracked in every part. She at once began to fill, and the men set
to work to remove on to the ice everything necessary for a sledge
journey to a place of safety. Towards four o’clock on the following
morning the man on watch suddenly burst into the tent. “Turn out if
you want to see the last of the _Jeannette_,” he cried. “There she
goes! There she goes!” “Most of us,” writes Melville, “had barely
time to arise and look out, when, amid the rattling and banging of
her timbers and iron work, the ship righted and stood almost upright;
the floes that had come in and crushed her slowly backed off; and
as she sank with slightly accelerated velocity, the yardarms were
stripped and broken upward parallel to the masts; and so, like a
great gaunt skeleton, its hands clasped above its head, she plunged
out of sight.”
[Illustration: ESKIMOS SLEDGING
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPT. LYON]
On that day they started off with their nine sledges and five boats
on their journey of 150 miles to the New Siberian Islands. They
carried sixty days’ provisions with them, and had not the men been in
an enfeebled condition, and had not circumstances been against them,
they could easily have accomplished the distance. As it was, they
were too weak to drag all their sledges and boats in a single load,
so that every mile of the journey had to be covered seven times,
while an unfortunate northerly drift carried them miles out of their
course. At last, however, the New Siberian Islands were reached, and,
after a short rest, the crew started off in their boats, with only
seven days’ provisions, for the Lena Delta. The first cutter was
commanded by De Long, the second cutter by Lieutenant Chipps, and
the whaleboat by Melville. A storm separated the three boats soon
after they had started, and of Chipps and his men nothing more was
ever heard. De Long landed on September 16, 1881, near the mouth of
the Lena, and he and his companions started off on a long march of
ninety-five miles for the nearest settlement. They had provisions for
seven days, and their chances of reaching their destination seemed
good. Circumstances, however, were once more against them, for they
found their way crossed by unfordable tributaries, and, as they had
been obliged to abandon their boat, there was nothing for them to do
but to wait until ice should bridge over the streams.
On October 6 the first death occurred, and on the following day the
miserable party ate their last provisions. To press forward was
impossible for most of them, so weak and ill had they become, while
to stay where they were meant certain death. De Long and Ambler,
the doctor of the party, however, determined to send on two men to
find assistance, while they themselves heroically remained behind to
take care of their dying comrades. The rest of their story cannot be
better told than by quoting extracts from the commander’s diary:—
“Missed Lee. Went down a hole in the bank and camped. Sent back for
Lee. He had turned back, lain down, and was ready to die. All united
in saying Lord’s Prayer and Creed after supper. Horrible night.”
“October 17, Monday—one hundred and twenty-seventh day. Alexey
dying. Doctor baptised him. Read prayers for sick. Mr Collins’
birthday—forty years old. About sunset Alexey died. Exhaustion from
starvation.”
“October 22, Saturday—one hundred and thirty-second day. Too weak to
carry bodies of Lee and Kaack out on the ice. The doctor, Collins,
and I carried them round the corner, out of sight. Then my eye closed
up.”
“October 30, Sunday—one hundred and fortieth day. Boyd and Görtz died
during the night. Mr Collins dying.”
And here the brave commander’s diary tragically ends. Some months
later Melville, who had made his way to the coast in a less
inhospitable region, and had organised a search-party as soon as he
heard of De Long’s plight, came upon the camp.
“Suddenly,” he says, “I caught sight of three objects, and one of
these was the hand and arm of a body raised out of the snow.... I
identified De Long at a glance by his coat. He lay on his right side,
with his right hand under his cheek, his head pointing north, and
his face turned towards the west. His feet were drawn slightly up,
as though he were sleeping; his left arm was raised with the elbow
bent, and his hand, thus horizontally lifted, was bare. About four
feet back of him, or towards the east, I found his small notebook, or
ice-journal, where he had tossed it with his left hand, which looked
as though it had never recovered from the act, but had frozen as I
found it, upraised.”
During his ill-fated cruise, De Long not only made a number of
valuable physical observations in an unknown region, but he also
proved the Siberian Ocean to be a shallow basin dotted with islands,
and exploded the theory of a great continent to the north of Asia.
CHAPTER XXVII
LEIGH SMITH AND THE “EIRA”
Not a little of our knowledge of Spitzbergen and Franz Josef Land is
due to the exertions of that able yachtsman and hunter, Leigh Smith,
of whom mention has already been made in connection with his rescue
of the unfortunate Swedes at Mussel Bay. Leigh Smith first comes into
the story of Arctic Exploration early in the ’seventies, when in a
series of three voyages, he examined the coast of Spitzbergen and
corrected several errors which then obtained credence concerning the
outline of North-East Land. Valuable as were the scientific results
of these voyages, however, we need not concern ourselves particularly
with them, and it is not until 1880, when he paid his first visit to
Franz Josef Land, that we have to enter into the story of his doings
in any detail.
Experience had taught him that discoveries could always be made
in the icy seas by perseverance and by promptly seizing any
opportunities that might arise, so, when he decided to make another
expedition northward, he made up his mind to sail for the Spitzbergen
seas, to conduct a careful examination of the ice over a large area,
and then to prosecute his researches in the direction which seemed
most promising. With this end in view, he had built for himself a
steam yacht of 360 tons burden and 50 horse-power, which he named
the _Eira_, and with a company of twenty-nine, he set sail for the
north in June 1880.
His first objective was Jan Mayen, but he was prevented from
examining that interesting island by the fact that it was, as usual,
enveloped in a thick mist. He next turned his attention to the east
coast of Greenland, which, of course, still offers a splendid field
to the adventurous explorer, but here again he was foiled, for the
coast was so encumbered by ice that it was impossible for him to
approach it. He then shaped his course for Spitzbergen, but falling
in with the two famous whalers, David and John Gray, he learnt that
the ice was equally bad in that direction. Accordingly, he determined
to try his luck in the Barents Sea, and to discover once and for all
whether there was a practicable sea-route to Franz Josef Land. Payer
and Weyprecht had, of course, found their way thither in 1871, but as
we have seen, they had been drifted there with the ice; a Dutchman
named De Bruyne had actually sighted its high land in 1879, but he
had not succeeded in reaching it; while, in the same year, Captain
Markham, in his little yacht the _Isbjörn_, had pushed as far north
as lat. 78° 24´, and had come to the conclusion that a steamer ought
to be able to make its way through the loose ice with which the sea
was cumbered without very much difficulty. There was, therefore,
every reason for Leigh Smith to hope that he would be able to reach
those shores which had never been visited since they were first
discovered.
Though the sea was covered with ice and dense fogs were of frequent
occurrence, he succeeded in bringing the _Eira_ through in safety,
and on August 14 she was lying at anchor off May Island, which is
situated just to the south of Hooker Island. Continuing her journey,
she steamed past Barents Hook, round the southern shore of Northbrook
Island, and up to Bell Island, between which and Mabel Island an
excellent anchorage was found and named Eira Harbour. Making that his
base, Leigh Smith surveyed the coast-line in all directions, adding
about 110 miles to the maps, and forming an interesting collection
of the flora and fauna of the country. Towards the end of August the
weather became threatening, so he determined to bid farewell to Franz
Josef Land for that year, as he was not prepared to spend a winter
there.
With a view to convincing doubters that the voyage to Franz Josef
Land would be practicable in any year, he set out on his second
voyage thither in the following summer. The _Eira_ was more hampered
by ice than had been the case before, but on July 23 land was
sighted, and Leigh Smith set his course for Cape Ludlow. After
exploring much of the coast-line which he had been unable to reach
during his previous visit, he made for Bell Island, off which he
anchored on August 6.
He had just finished examining Cape Flora and was thinking of
turning eastwards, in the hope that he might pick up some traces of
the lost _Jeannette_, when a calamity took place which completely
upset all his plans. For one fine Sunday morning, when the weather
was beautifully calm, and there seemed to be nothing to fear, the
pack-ice suddenly came down with the tide, and the _Eira_ was caught
between it and the land floe. She was protected by a grounded berg,
and for a while no injury was done to her. Then, without any
warning, the berg gave way, the _Eira_ heeled over, and the water
came pouring into her hold, probably through a hole made by a tongue
of ice. The pumps were tried, but without much effect, so all hands
were set to work, passing provisions and anything else that they
could save out on to the ice. Within two hours she was at the bottom,
in eleven fathoms of water.
There was now nothing for the men to do but to make the best of a bad
business, and to set about preparations for the winter. Fortunately
the land abounds with bears and walruses, and thanks to the united
efforts of the crew and of Bob, their retriever, the larder was soon
filled with a sufficient store of meat to last them comfortably till
the spring. Bob seems to have been a veritable Nimrod among dogs, and
to have combined an enthusiasm for hunting with an unusual degree
of sagacity. On one occasion, while out for a constitutional by
himself, he came upon a herd of seahorses, and succeeded in conveying
the intelligence to his human friends, to the great benefit of the
larder. On another occasion, he decoyed a bear right up to the door
of the hut, where it was promptly shot, while he once nearly died a
sportsman’s death in the embrace of a moribund bear, which, in his
zeal, he had approached rather too closely.
All the boats had fortunately been saved, and the winter was spent
in making preparations for a voyage to Nova Zembla, where, it was
hoped, succour would be found. This hope was amply fulfilled, for, on
reaching their goal after six weeks of very hard work, they fell in
with the Dutch exploring steamer, the _Willem Barents_, and later
on with the _Hope_, which had been sent out to their relief by the
British Government, and by which they were conveyed home none the
worse for their experiences.
Leigh Smith’s voyages were valuable not only scientifically but also
commercially, for he showed that walruses abound in those seas, a
piece of knowledge of which hunters have availed themselves to the
full.
CHAPTER XXVIII
GREENLAND AND THE EARLIER JOURNEYS OF NANSEN AND PEARY
On the whole of the earth’s surface there is probably no more
desolate and uninviting country than Greenland. Extending for a
distance of over 1400 miles from north to south, and of some 900
miles from east to west at its broadest point, almost the whole of it
is covered with a permanent ice-cap, which probably attains in places
a depth of 3000 feet, and on which it is absolutely impossible for a
human being to sustain life for long.
Some small portions of the coast are inhabited by tribes of Eskimos
and by settlers, while here and there traces remain of its early
Norse discoverers, many of them probably Christians, as Holm, in
1880, found ruins of four stone churches in the Julianshaab district.
These settlements are confined to small areas on the western coast;
the eastern coast, with the exception of a small tract between Cape
Bismarck and Cape Farewell, whither a few Eskimos migrated from the
Parry Islands, is entirely uninhabited. This coast, indeed, protected
as it is by an almost impassable barrier of ice and shrouded by
perpetual fog, has never been very thoroughly explored, in spite of
the persistent efforts of generations of daring travellers. During
the earlier days of Arctic exploration, Hudson, the Dane Daniell,
Gale Hamke, Han Egede and his son, Olsen Wallör, and other whalers
mapped out small sections of the coast, but their discoveries did not
amount to very much.
In 1822, however, Captain William Scoresby, jun., one of the most
famous of Scottish whalers, visited the coast, and, in the intervals
of fishing, succeeded in charting and sketching it from Hudson’s
Cape Hold-with-Hope to Gale Hamke Bay, making at the same time a
number of valuable astronomical and trigonometrical observations.
Captain Edward Sabine, while engaged on his great pendulum work of
1823, visited Pendulum Island with Captain Clavering, who explored
much of the coast in the neighbourhood, the field which he thus
opened up being later developed by Koldewey, with whose voyage in the
_Germania_ we have already dealt. Among others who have contributed
to our still scanty knowledge of this desolate land are Blosseville,
Wandell, Graah, Giesecke, Rink, Dalager, Jensen, Steenstrup, Knutsen,
Knudsen, Eberlin, Garde, Ryder, Drygalski, and Nathorst, thanks to
whose efforts much of the east coast has been mapped out.
For centuries even less was known of the great ice-cap which forms
the interior, and, until recently, it remained practically untrodden
by the foot of man. The Eskimos believed it to be the abode of the
Kivitogs, or sorcerers, and would not attempt to penetrate it,
while few of the explorers who had the hardihood to venture upon it
succeeded in achieving much. In 1870 Nordenskiöld and Berggren, the
naturalist, succeeded in penetrating it to a distance of thirty-five
miles from Aulaitsivik Fiord, and discovered a true ice-plant and
a dust of cosmic origin, which the geologist named kryokonite.
Repeating the attempt in 1883, Nordenskiöld, after fifteen marches,
reached 48° 15′ W., at an elevation of 4900 feet. Seeing that it was
impossible for him to proceed much farther, he sent on two Laps on
skis, who covered another 140 miles, and reported on returning that,
though they had reached an elevation of 6600 feet, the ice-field
still rose steadily.
The first man to cross Greenland from one coast to the other was
Dr Fridtjof Nansen, who was later to win still further fame for
himself by his daring attempt to cross the North Pole in the _Eram_.
Nansen was born on October 16, 1861, and from his earliest youth he
displayed the keenest interest in natural science and that absolute
contempt for danger which proved of such immense service to him
later on. It was in 1887, while curator of the Bergen museum, that
he first announced his intention of crossing that terrible ice-cap
which had hitherto defied the efforts of even the hardiest explorers.
The announcement was greeted with ridicule, but, nevertheless, he
received over forty applications from would-be companions, and the
sum of £300, the estimated cost of the expedition, was presented by a
generous Dane.
No sooner had it been made possible for him to carry out his plans
than he set about the preparations for the journey. Not only was it
necessary for him to select his companions and to arrange all the
details of the route which he proposed to follow and the equipment
which he meant to take with him, but he also thought it advisable to
test the various kinds of skis and snowshoes on which the trip was
to be made, and to accustom himself to hardships by sleeping on a
snow mountain protected from the cold by only a bag.
His companions were to be five in number, and consisted of Otto
Sverdrup, a retired ship’s captain; Lieut. Dietrichson, of the
Norwegian army; Christian Christiansen Frana, a peasant from North
Norway; and two Laps, named Balto and Ravna. Nansen’s plan was
daring in the extreme, for he proposed to land on the east coast of
Greenland, and to make his way as best as he could to the west. It
will be obvious that, having once embarked upon the trip, the party
could not possibly turn back. Ahead of them lay civilisation and
food; behind them lay nothing but an uninhabited and inhospitable
coast, where they would be compelled to die of starvation should they
return to it. By adopting this route, therefore, he burnt his boats
behind him.
In May 1888 Nansen and his companions sailed from Norway in the
sealer which was to take them to Greenland. They had made an
arrangement with the captain that business was to come first, and
that he was not to go out of his way to land them. Accordingly it was
not until July 17, when the ship happened to be within two miles and
a half of the shore, that the explorers were able to put off in their
two boats. As we have had occasion to point out more than once, the
east coast of Greenland is generally encumbered with ice, and Nansen
found that reaching the shore was by no means so easy a matter as
he had anticipated. For many days they were drifted about with the
pack, sometimes being carried as far as thirty miles out to sea, and
it was not until July 29 that they were able to effect a landing.
Even now, however, they were not able to start immediately across
the ice-cap, for in the course of their wanderings they had been
carried 200 miles to the south, and it was necessary for them to make
a toilsome journey northward before, on August 10, they were able to
set their course for the west coast.
They found at once that it was quite impossible for them to travel
by day, as the snow was so soft that very little progress could
be made. Even at night the conditions were but little better, for
their way lay over rough and hummocky ice, which was frequently
intersected by chasms, and rain fell in torrents; consequently they
were only able to cover a few miles on each march. As they travelled
upward, however, towards that high plateau of which Central Greenland
consists, the cold grew more intense, with the result that the
ice became firmer, and they were able to travel by day. The cold,
however, though it brought relief to them in one direction, was not
without its disadvantages, for they were unable to find any more
drinking water, and were obliged to content themselves with snow,
which they melted in flasks carried at their breasts.
The upward journey occupied them about three weeks, and it was with
the utmost relief that they found themselves at last on the plateau,
at an elevation of about 9000 feet. The ascent had been terribly
steep, the work of dragging the five sledges had been excessively
arduous, and so much time had consequently been spent, that Nansen
determined to change his course, and, instead of pressing on
to Christianshaab, to make for Godthaab, his nearest point in a
south-westerly direction. The second half of the journey afforded a
very pleasant contrast to the first. Abandoning the biggest of the
sledges and binding the others together in couples, the explorers set
sail and sent them racing down the slope while they glided beside
them on their skis. As they neared the coast they were obliged to go
more cautiously, for they very nearly tumbled head over heels down
the first of the precipices which break up the ice-cap at this point.
With some difficulty they succeeded in reaching the shore, and here
the party split up. Nansen, Sverdrup, and one of the Laps made a
crazy and exceedingly uncomfortable boat out of willows, in which
they sailed to the Eskimo settlement of New Herrnhut. Here they were
received by a missionary, and a party was sent back for the others,
who arrived in safety on October 16.
Nansen had intended to return to Norway that autumn, but the last
ship had sailed, and he was consequently obliged to spend the winter
at Godthaab. He ultimately reached home at the end of May, in the
happy knowledge that he had performed a feat which had hitherto
been considered impossible, and that he had proved the interior of
Greenland to be a vast ice-field. The journey had cost him far more
than he had originally anticipated, but the deficit was soon made
good by private subscription.
Nansen was not the only man of the time who was attempting to solve
the riddle of Central Greenland, for before he set out on his daring
journey, the brilliant young American, Lieutenant Peary, had already
begun that series of raids upon the inland ice which were eventually
to be attended by very remarkable results.
Peary is a native of Maine, and he began his career as an engineer in
the United States navy. He seems, however, to have been predestined
by nature for the life of an Arctic traveller, for, as Sir Clements
Markham well put it, he combines “forethought and prudence in
planning his operations with great skill and undaunted resolution in
carrying them into execution”—qualities which more, perhaps, than
any others go to make a successful explorer. It was in the year 1885
that he first turned his attention seriously to that branch of work
with which his name is now so intimately connected. Realising that
there was still a vast field for research in Central Greenland, he
then suggested to the academies and learned societies of the United
States that he should undertake an expedition thither, with a view
to pursuing scientific investigations in that practically unknown
country, and to discovering once and for all whether or not Greenland
was an island. The idea was taken up enthusiastically, and sufficient
funds were soon raised to enable him to carry his plans into
execution.
His first trip was more or less tentative, for he was at that time
totally inexperienced in Arctic travel, and it was, of course,
necessary for him to find out exactly what difficulties he would
have to encounter on such a journey as that which he proposed to
undertake. Leaving America in May 1886, he was soon at Godhaven,
where he met his friend Christian Maigaard, a prominent official
in those parts, who intended to accompany him on his journey.
Thence he sailed up the Pakitsok Fiord, at the end of which lay
his starting-point. After carefully reconnoitering the glacier and
discovering a tongue of ice which seemed reasonably accessible, he
started off with Maigaard and two Eskimos, their equipment consisting
of a couple of sledges and provisions for about three weeks. Their
way did not lie in particularly pleasant places, for the ice-field
was intersected with innumerable crevasses which needed a good deal
of negotiation. He found, however, that travelling was by no means
impossible, and the party succeeded in penetrating the interior to a
distance of about a hundred miles before lack of provisions compelled
them to beat a retreat.
He returned to America more enthusiastic than ever about his plans
for exploring the north of Greenland, and fully convinced that he
could accomplish great things there, given the opportunity. It was
not, however, until the year 1891 that he was able to set out on his
second journey on the steamboat _Kite_, commanded by Captain Richard
Pick. On this occasion he was accompanied by his wife; Dr Cook, the
distinguished ethnologist; Gibson, an ornithologist; John Verhoeff,
a mineralogist; his own coloured servant; and last, but by no means
least, by Elvind Astrup, a young Norwegian who did splendid work not
only on this but also on Peary’s later expeditions. There was also
on board a party of nine men of science, with Professor Heilprin at
their head, whose task it was to make researches and observations
while Peary was away on his long journey.
One serious misadventure marked the passage out, as Peary had the
misfortune to break his leg, with the result that he was absolutely
helpless when the party landed at M’Cormick Bay, and was precluded
from taking part in any of the short autumn trips round Inglefield
Gulf.
The first days after their arrival at the bay were, of course, spent
in the erection of the portable dwelling which they had brought
with them, and to which they gave the name of Redcliffe House. As
soon as spring came round Peary, who, under the care of his wife,
had completely recovered, set off on a short sledge journey round
Inglefield Gulf, on which Mrs Peary accompanied him.
It was not, however, until May 14 that he started on the long journey
which was to be the crowning glory of his expedition. The first part
of the journey was slow, for it took him a week to round Inglefield
Gulf, during which time he discovered no fewer than thirty glaciers,
ten of them of the first magnitude. On reaching the divide between
Whale Sound and Kane Sea, he sent back two of the four men who had
set out with him, and with Astrup as his only companion he pushed on
north. On June 26 they reached the northern edge of the inland ice
and, unable to proceed any further in that direction, they turned
south-east in the hope that they would succeed in making the east
coast of Greenland. Following the extreme limits of the ice-cap
their journey brought them, on July 4, to a large indentation, which
they named Independence Bay, in honour of the day. From the top of a
tremendous cliff, 4000 feet high, they obtained a magnificent view of
the land all round them, a view which left no doubt whatever in their
minds that Greenland was an island.
Of the twenty-one dogs with which they had started only eight now
survived, and as they were a full 450 miles from home, they had no
choice but to make the best of their way back to Redcliffe House,
which they reached without misadventure on August 6. The _Kite_
arriving a few days later, Peary and his companions returned to
America. Their party, however, had been reduced by one member, for
the mineralogist, John Verhoeff, had been overtaken by a snowstorm
when out hunting for specimens and had never been heard of again.
Peary’s experiences convinced him that there was a vast field for
discovery in the north of Greenland, and he promptly set about
raising the money for a third expedition by delivering lectures
on his experiences. The result of his efforts was so entirely
satisfactory that the autumn of 1893 saw him once again established
in Whale Sound. On this occasion, however, he was able to find far
more satisfactory quarters in Bowdoin Bay, an indentation on the
north shore of Inglefield Gulf, where he erected Anniversary Lodge, a
house which might truly be said to have the most modern improvements,
in that it was actually lit by electric light supplied by a dynamo,
for the working of which his steam launch was responsible.
On August 29 Astrup and three companions set out with the object of
laying down _caches_ of provisions for the great spring journey.
Unfortunately, however, they had only deposited two _caches_ when
Astrup was taken ill, and they had to hurry home without properly
locating the spots.
[Illustration: PEARY’S TRAVELLING EQUIPMENT]
On September 12 an exceedingly interesting event took place,
for Mrs Peary, who was again a member of the expedition, presented
her husband with a daughter. To Miss Peary consequently belongs
the honour of having been born in a higher latitude than any other
civilised being.
It was on March 6, 1894, that Peary set out on his spring journey
accompanied by seven men, twelve sledges and ninety-two dogs, and
with sufficient provisions to last for six months. Unfortunately,
however, the weather was by no means so favourable as it had been
on his previous journey. The cold was intense, and his men were
frost-bitten and his dogs frozen to death before his eyes. Sending
back the greater number of his party, Peary pushed on pluckily with
three companions, but circumstances were too much for him, and he had
to confess himself beaten in the end. When he finally reached Bowdoin
Bay, on April 15, only twenty-six dogs out of the original ninety-two
remained to him.
The rest of the spring and the early part of the summer were spent
in exploring and mapping out the unknown shores of Melville Bay.
During the course of one of these journeys Peary reached Cape York,
where he “unsnowed” two gigantic meteorites, the reports of which had
attracted many previous explorers, none of whom, however, had managed
to find them. Later on he succeeded in conveying them to America, as
well as a third of such vast proportions that its removal entailed
several months of hard work.
In August the _Falcon_ came to fetch the explorers, but Peary was
by no means satisfied with his year’s work, and though prudence
undoubtedly demanded that he should return at once, seeing that
he was short of provisions and fuel and that he had no means of
knowing whether or not a ship would be able to visit him during the
following year, with characteristic determination he proclaimed
his intention of staying at Bowdoin Bay for another year with two
volunteers, Hugh Lee and his coloured servant Henson. So, sending
the rest of his party home, he set about making preparations for
the winter. The greater part of the autumn was spent in gaining
Eskimo recruits, in hunting and in attempting to find the _caches_
laid down by Astrup. In the last of these enterprises Peary failed
completely, but the hunting was very fairly successful, with the
result that he and his two companions were able to spend the winter
in comparative comfort. The spring journey was begun on April 2,
1895, the party consisting of Peary himself, his two volunteers, four
Eskimos, and sixty-three dogs, drawing four sledges. The Eskimos did
not prove of much assistance as one of them deserted with his outfit
on the third day, while, a little later, Peary had to send back the
remaining three. With Lee and Henson he now pushed on in the face of
appalling difficulties. Snow-storms raged around them, obliterating
their landmarks and so concealing their _cache_ of pemmican that it
was nowhere to be found. Lee was frost-bitten, the dogs died one
after another, and game was conspicuous by its absence, yet Peary
persevered and, by dint of almost superhuman efforts, he arrived
within a short distance of Independence Bay early in May. Here he was
so fortunate as to kill ten musk-oxen, but no other game of any kind
was to be found, and they now found themselves under the necessity
of rushing back to the camp with all possible despatch. They had only
nine dogs left and food for seventeen days, but by going on short
rations and making forced marches they succeeded in winning their
desperate race against starvation. They were only in the nick of
time, however, for when they reached Bowdoin Bay, on June 25, they
had eaten their last scrap of food, while only one dog remained to
them out of the sixty-five with which they had started. The _Kite_
calling for them later in the summer, they reached Newfoundland in
September after one of the most hazardous journeys on record.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE JACKSON-HARMSWORTH EXPEDITION
It was, no doubt, the success which attended Mr Leigh Smith’s
expedition that first directed the attention of another well-known
English explorer, Mr F. G. Jackson, to Franz Josef Land, and led him
to think seriously of undertaking an expedition thither, with a view
partly to surveying that still almost unknown country and partly to
pushing on, if possible, another step towards the Pole.
Mr Jackson first published the plans of his proposed journey in 1892,
but, though they were very generally approved by those who were
experienced in Arctic research, no one seemed particularly anxious
to provide the necessary funds. Accordingly, in 1893, he determined
to undertake an expedition to the Yugor Straits, with the double
object of exploring Waigatz Island and of testing the equipment
which he proposed to use on his voyage to Franz Josef Land. His trip
was attended by complete success, and when he had accomplished the
task which he had set himself, he determined to extend his journey
round the White Sea and through Lapland, in order that he might
become conversant with the ways of the Laps as well as with those
of the Samoyads, with whom he had been travelling. We may mention
incidentally that it was on this journey that he first learnt the
value of the hardy Russian ponies which proved of such inestimable
service to him on his later expedition.
It was while he was still far from home that he received a telegram
conveying the welcome news that Mr Alfred Harmsworth (now Lord
Northcliffe) had generously undertaken to provide the funds for the
journey to Franz Josef Land of which he hoped such great things. He
did not return to England immediately, thinking that the objects of
his new expedition would be better served if he were to continue
his investigations in Lapland. These completed, he hurried back and
instantly set about his preparations for his forthcoming campaign.
His first care was, of course, to select a vessel suitable for the
conveyance of his party and his stores to the unknown country which
he was to explore, and his choice finally lit upon the _Windward_, a
steam whaler of 461 tons. The expedition was to be provisioned for
three years, and with such care and good sense was the equipment
prepared, that nothing that the travellers could possibly need during
their lengthy stay in the Arctic regions was omitted. Mr Jackson was
no less fortunate in the selection of his staff, and much of the
great success which attended his expedition was due to the work of
his doctor, Reginald Hettlitz; his botanist, Mr Harry Fisher; and his
mineralogist, Mr Child.
The _Windward_ set sail down the Thames in July 1894, and early in
August she reached Archangel, where she took on board a number of
dogs, four ponies, and three portable houses. The passage across
Barents Sea was not unattended by difficulties and occupied some
eleven days, while another fortnight was spent in tacking about
before Bell Island, a nearer approach to the land being made
impossible by the girdle of ice which surrounded it. On September 10,
however, the _Windward_ cast anchor off Cape Flora, the westernmost
point of Northbrook Island, and here the party erected their winter
house, to which they gave the name of Elmwood.
Mr Jackson made it evident at once that he had at any rate one of the
qualities essential to a successful Arctic explorer, in that he was a
splendid disciplinarian. He was convinced that if good health was to
be preserved, every member of his party must be kept constantly busy,
so he saw to it that his men always had plenty of occupation. If they
were not at work, they were sent out hunting, game being exceedingly
plentiful on the island. If they were not hunting, they were made
to play football or other games. The results triumphantly justified
his methods, for during the three years that they spent on Franz
Josef Land not a member of his party had an hour’s illness and not a
single man had to knock off work through indisposition. The crew of
the _Windward_, on the other hand, who were not under his immediate
supervision, and who were allowed to please themselves as to how they
occupied their time, became subject to scurvy, to which several of
them succumbed.
The winter passed without incident, and as soon as spring came round
they set about trying their sledges and making preparations for their
first journey of exploration. This was begun on April 16, and in the
course of it Jackson and his two companions, Lieutenant Armitage
and Blonkvist, pushed north as far as Back Island, where Nansen and
Johansen were destined to build their winter hut four months later.
They were prevented from going much further, however, by the fact
that their way led them through a mixture of snow and mud, which
their ponies were quite unable to negotiate; accordingly there was
nothing for them to do but to make their way home to Elmwood House.
In June the _Windward_ got up steam and set sail for England, leaving
the explorers behind. Her voyage proved to be one of the most trying
description, for so dense was the pack that it took her sixty-five
days to plough her way through it. No provision had been made for
such an eventuality, and she soon found herself short of coal, with
the result that she had to burn her masts, her bridge, and any other
timber that she could spare in order to keep her engines going.
Meanwhile Jackson and his companions, having been foiled in their
attempt to penetrate far to the north, turned their attention to the
vast tract of undiscovered country which lay to the west of them,
and they spent the rest of the summer in exploring and mapping out
Alexandra Land as far as Cape Mary Harmsworth.
Two serious losses befell them during their second winter at Cape
Flora, in that one of their ponies was found hanged in its stable one
morning, while another fell sick and died. Otherwise, however, the
winter months passed without incident.
The spring was spent in another trip north along the shores of
British Channel, during the course of which Jackson and his
companions added islands and capes innumerable to the map of Franz
Josef Land. Their discoveries, however, though of great geographic
value, need not be recorded at length here, and it was not until June
17 that an event occurred of which we must give any detailed account.
We leave Mr Jackson to tell the story in his own words.
[Illustration: THE MEETING BETWEEN JACKSON AND NANSEN]
“Just after dinner,” he writes, “Armitage came rushing down to tell
me that through his field-glass he could see a man on the floe to
the S.S.E. of Cape Flora, about four miles off. I could hardly
believe it; such a thing seemed utterly impossible, and thought he
had mistaken a walrus on the ice for a man, but having got a glass I
could see he was correct. I could also make out somewhat indistinctly
a staff or mast, with another man apparently standing near it close
to the water’s edge. It occurred then to me that it might be one
of my own men, although they had all been at dinner a few minutes
before, but I, however, found that all were present. I got a gun
with all speed, and firing off a shot on the bank to endeavour to
arrest the stranger’s attention, I started off to meet him coming
across the ice.... On our approaching each other, about three miles
distant from the land, I saw a tall man on ski with roughly-made
clothes and an old felt hat on his head. He was covered with oil and
grease, and black from head to foot. I at once concluded from his
wearing ski that he was no English sailor, but that he must be a man
from some Norwegian walrus sloop who had come to grief and wintered
somewhere on Franz Josef Land in very rough circumstances. His hair
was very long and dirty, his complexion appeared to be fair, but dirt
prevented me from being sure on this point, and his beard was
straggly and dirty also. We shook hands heartily, and I expressed the
greatest pleasure at seeing him. I inquired if he had a ship. ‘No,’
he replied, ‘my ship is not here’—rather sadly I thought—and then he
remarked, in reply to my question, that he had only one companion,
who was at the floe edge. It then struck me that his features, in
spite of the black grease and long hair and beard, resembled Nansen,
whom I had met once in London before he started in 1893, and I
exclaimed:—
“‘Aren’t you Nansen?’
“To which he replied:—
“‘Yes, I am Nansen.’
“With much heartiness I shook him by the hand and said, ‘By jove, I’m
damned glad to see you!’”
Such, then, was the unexpected meeting between two explorers who were
both trying from different directions to solve the problem of the
frozen north. It was as well for Nansen and his companion that that
meeting took place, for they had to confess that they were hopelessly
lost, and small wonder, for Payer’s map of the north of Franz Josef
Land was quite unrecognisable, while, as their watches had run down,
they were unable to discover their longitude. Now, however, their
troubles were at an end, and they were saved from the necessity of
attempting that awful voyage to Spitzbergen in two frail kayacks, a
voyage which must almost inevitably have resulted in their deaths.
Jackson lost no time in taking the two weary travellers back to his
hut, where they were refreshed with a good meal and a wash and brush
up—the first in which they had been able to indulge for a year. We
are told that so begrimed were they after their journey, that the
first application of soap and water had almost as little effect upon
them as it had upon the historic tramp who washed and washed till he
came to a flannel shirt. Time and honest endeavour, however, made
their due impression, and Nansen and Johansen were soon able to boast
that they cut as respectable figures as any of their companions.
The two explorers had, of course, much in common, and they soon
became such fast friends that Nansen’s pleasure at the arrival of
the _Windward_ on July 26 and the prospect of an immediate return to
the civilised world which it brought with it, was tempered by very
real regret. However his course was naturally obvious, and when the
ship, after discharging the stores which she had brought for Jackson,
sailed once more for England, she took with her Nansen and Johansen,
as well as Blonkvist, whose health would not stand another winter
in the Arctic, and Fisher, the botanist, who had now completed his
researches into the flora of Franz Josef Land.
During the ensuing year Jackson continued his exploration of the
new land, and his labours were always attended by the happiest
results. The sum of them was to prove that it consisted of a
cluster of islands, separated from one another by channels in which
ran exceedingly rapid currents. These currents, keeping the ice
constantly in motion, often made travelling exceedingly difficult,
but they ensured open waterways, in which walruses abounded. He
further proved that several countries hitherto marked on the maps,
such as Gillies and King Oscar Lands, did not exist at all, and made
countless scientific observations of the greatest value.
He had hoped that he might be able to extend his visit to Franz Josef
Land over another year, with a view to making an effort to push
north. This, however, was not to be, and when the _Windward_ called
for him on August 6, the force of circumstances compelled him and his
party to return home to England. This they accordingly proceeded to
do, having first established a depot of provisions for the benefit of
Andrée, should fortune direct the course of that intrepid explorer
thither.
[Illustration:
FRANZ JOSEF
LAND
]
CHAPTER XXX
NANSEN AND THE “FRAM”
A careful study of the history of Arctic travel had convinced Nansen
that the routes by which most of his predecessors had attempted to
reach the North Pole were either impracticable or else beset by such
difficulties that he who could overcome them would be fortunate
indeed. Vessels attempting to penetrate far to the north had always
been stopped by an impenetrable barrier of ice. Travellers trying
to make the journey by sledge had found the ice so rough and the
movements of the pack so disconcerting, that they had been invariably
compelled to turn back before they were very far on their way, while,
so far as has yet been discovered, there is no land in a sufficiently
northerly latitude to form a suitable base.
The experiences of the _Jeannette_, however, turned his thoughts in
another direction. It will be remembered that that ill-fated vessel
was caught in the ice near Wrangel Land and drifted thence to New
Siberia, where she went down. Three years later there was found,
frozen into the drift-ice in the neighbourhood of Julianshaab, on
the south-west coast of Greenland, a number of articles which had
obviously come from the sunken vessel. These articles were first
discovered by the Eskimos, and were afterwards collected by Mr
Lytzen, colonial manager at Julianshaab, among them being a list of
provisions signed by De Long, a pair of sealskin breeches marked with
the name of Louis Noros, one of the _Jeannette’s_ crew, the peak of a
cap belonging to Nindemann, another of the sailors, and a manuscript
list of the ship’s boats.
Professor Mohn, in a lecture delivered before the scientific society
of Christiania, showed that these articles must have drifted across
the Pole, a theory which was supported by the fact that Siberian
larches had often been found on the east coast of Greenland; and
Nansen came to the conclusion that where they could drift he could
drift too. His proposal to put his theory to the test was greeted
with a hurricane of disapproval, especially as it involved the
abandonment of the well-known Arctic canon never to leave the
shore. He was told that human hands could not construct a ship
which could withstand the enormous pressure of the winter ice, and
that he was simply throwing away the lives of himself and of those
who accompanied him. Nansen, however, thought otherwise, and in
October 1892 a specially-built vessel was launched at the mouth
of the Christiania Fiord, and was christened by Mrs Nansen the
_Fram_—anglice, “Forward.”
The sides of the _Fram_ were thirty inches thick, and strengthened
with stanchions at points where the pressure was expected to be
greatest, while her hull was specially shaped in the hope that she
would rise when squeezed by the ice. She was only 128 feet long, but
very broad of beam. Her speed, under steam and sail, was expected to
be eight or nine knots an hour in very favourable circumstances;
under steam alone she was not expected to average more than three
knots, but speed was not, of course, a primary consideration. Her
crew consisted of thirteen, and included Captain Sverdrup, Lieutenant
Johansen, who was destined to accompany Nansen on his perilous
journey over the ice, and Lieutenant Scott-Hansen, who was chiefly
responsible for the scientific observations.
The _Fram_ set sail from Christiania on June 24, 1893, and was soon
making her way along the north coast of Europe. On August 4 she
entered the dreaded Kara Sea, but it was not until the end of the
month, when off Taimur Island, that she met with her first serious
opposition from ice. Here Nansen discovered a new group of islands,
and at one time he thought that he would be obliged to make their
closer acquaintance by wintering off them. Fortunately, however, a
storm broke up the ice on September 6, and he was able to proceed
on his way past Cape Chelyuskin. He had intended to call at Olenek
for dogs, but the summer was so far advanced that he did not dare to
linger on the way, so he pushed north past New Siberia and entered
the pack at lat. 78° 50´ on September 29.
As soon as the ice had really gripped the vessel and there was no
further prospect of release, preparations for the winter were set on
foot. The rudder was shipped, the hold was cleared out to make room
for a joiner’s shop, the engine was taken to pieces and a mechanical
workshop set up in its room, a smithy was erected, tinsmith’s work
was done in the chart-room, and shoemaker’s and sailmaker’s work in
the saloon. “There was nothing,” says Nansen, “from the most delicate
instruments down to wooden shoes and axe handles that could not be
made on the _Fram_. When we were found to be short of sounding line,
a grand rope-walk was constructed on the ice.... There was always
something to occupy us, and it was not difficult to find work for
each man that gave him sufficient exercise and so much distraction
that the time did not seem to him unbearably long.”
It is not to be supposed, however, that Nansen did not suffer
occasionally from ennui; and this was especially the case when the
_Fram_, to his disgust, was drifted steadily south-west, for several
weeks. Presently, however, she started once more on her northward
journey, and from that time onward her course gave her crew little
cause for dissatisfaction, though she did not approach the Pole quite
so nearly as had been hoped; the ship, moreover, behaved herself
splendidly in the ice and resisted the most serious pressures.
Contrary to the opinion of many experts, who had held that, frozen
into the pack as she would be, she could not possibly rise from her
bed and thrust the oncoming ice beneath her, she would sometimes be
raised so high above the surface that her bottom was almost visible.
Though Nansen saw from the _Fram’s_ drift that she would follow very
nearly the course he had anticipated, he thought that still more
might be accomplished, and that the sea which lay beyond the ship’s
route could be more thoroughly examined if he and a companion left
her with dogs and sledges. Such an expedition could not, of course,
hope to find the vessel again, as she would be constantly changing
her whereabouts, and it would be like looking for a needle in a
bottle of hay. The prospect of being obliged to find his own way
home to civilised regions did not, however, deter the explorer,
and, leaving Sverdrup in command, he started off on March 14, 1895,
accompanied by Johansen, with twenty-eight dogs, three sledges,
two kayacks, thirty days’ food for their dogs, and a hundred days’
rations for themselves.
The venture was rash almost to the verge of madness, but Nansen
and Johansen entered upon it with such spirit and pluck that they
succeeded in carrying it through successfully, though not without
suffering fearful hardships. High-piled ridges of ice, on the slopes
and summits of which the snow never had time to collect, were
constantly forming in their path, and over these the men had to
drag the sledges while the dogs, who did not care for that kind of
amusement, sat down and looked on. To their great disappointment,
too, the ice grew worse and worse as they journeyed north, till at
last, on April 7, Nansen climbed to the top of the highest point that
he could find, and saw nothing but packed, piled-up ice right on to
the horizon, looking, as he says, “like a rough sea that had been
petrified.” Such being the case, he came to the conclusion that it
would be folly to continue the struggle, so, having reached lat. 86°
14´ N., the farthest point attained up till then, he and Johansen
determined to turn south and make for Franz Joseph Land.
Soon after they had started on the return journey they came upon
better ice and progressed rather more rapidly. Unfortunately,
however, in their anxiety to push on, they occasionally made
inordinately long marches, with the result that, when they halted
for the night on April 12, more than thirty-six hours had elapsed
since they last pitched their tents, and their watches had run down.
They were able to make a reasonably good guess at the time, but from
that day onward they were never able to obtain their longitude with
any certainty.
The inaccuracy of Payer’s map, too, gave them a great deal of worry.
Naturally believing in the existence of Petermann’s Land, they
expected to sight it towards the end of April. May passed, however,
and then the beginning of June, and still no land came in sight. By
the 22nd of the month travelling had become so arduous that, having
shot three bears and a seal, thus relieving themselves of all fear
of starvation, they determined to wait till the warmer weather had
melted the snow. It was not until July 22 that they started once
more on their way, and two days later their eyes were gladdened with
the sight of land. To reach it, however, was no easy matter, for
the ice was broken up by numberless channels which were covered so
thickly with crushed floe that it was impossible for them to use
their kayacks. Accordingly they were obliged to jump from one piece
of ice to another, dragging the sledges after them—a most hazardous
proceeding which often nearly resulted in disaster.
It was while they were preparing to negotiate an open lead that an
incident happened which almost cost Johansen his life. Nansen was
busy with his kayack, which he was holding with one hand to prevent
it from slipping into the water, when he heard a scuffle behind him,
and Johansen’s voice cried out, “Take the gun!”
Looking round, he saw that an enormous bear was throwing itself on
his companion, who was lying on his back. He tried to seize his
gun, which was lying on the fore-deck, but the kayack slipped out
of his grasp into the water. “You must look sharp if you want to be
in time,” said Johansen quite quietly, and Nansen, making a supreme
effort, just managed to clutch his gun and shoot the bear before it
was on its prey.
After immense labour they succeeded in reaching Frederic Jackson
Island, and here they decided to spend the winter, as they realised
that it was too late in the season for them to attempt the long and
dangerous voyage to Spitzbergen. Accordingly they set about building
a hut and shooting walruses and bears, of which they found such an
abundance that they had soon placed themselves beyond the possibility
of starvation. The hut was small, but it was fairly comfortable. “By
the aid of the lamps,” says Nansen, “we succeeded in keeping the
temperature at about freezing-point in the middle of the hut, while
it was, of course, lower at the walls. The latter were covered with
a thick coating of frost and ice, which in the lamplight gave them
such a splendidly marmoreal appearance that in our happier moments we
could dream that we dwelt in marble halls.”
They had nothing whatever to do, so for twenty hours out of the
twenty-four they remained in bed, which, consisting as it did of
huge, hard stones, was not particularly comfortable. Christmas Day
they celebrated by turning their shirts inside out. Their clothes,
by the way, were always a source of worry, for washing was a problem
which they were quite unable to solve. They succeeded in keeping
their persons fairly clean, partly by scraping themselves with knives
and partly by rubbing in bear’s fat and wiping it off with moss; but
though they tried the effect of boiling their underclothing and then
scraping it with a knife, the plan did not answer very well, and they
pined for a cake of soap.
On May 19 they started off once more, and managed to make fairly good
progress either on the ice or in open water. They had one or two
accidents, one of which might have resulted disastrously, for the
kayack which had their provisions and guns on board started off on a
voyage on its own account, leaving them on shore. Nansen was obliged
to swim after it, and became so exhausted in the struggle with the
bitter water that he was only just able to reach it and scramble
over the gunwale. Their troubles, however, were now at an end, for,
when preparing breakfast one morning, Nansen heard dogs barking. At
first he could hardly believe his ears, but the sound came nearer
and nearer till at last there could be no doubt about it. Rushing
off on his skis to learn the solution of the mystery, he met F. G.
Jackson, from whom he received the warmest welcome. As, however, we
have described the meeting in the chapter devoted to the Jackson
expedition, we need not dwell on it again here.
In the meanwhile the _Fram_ drifted steadily on with the ice,
reaching, on October 16, almost as high a latitude as that attained
by Nansen. She pursued her journey to the edge of the pack without
misadventure, and after a series of blasting operations she was set
free of the ice and made her way home in safety.
[Illustration: SPITZBERGEN]
CHAPTER XXXI
CONWAY AND ANDRÉE
Though Nordenskiöld had succeeded in exploring North-East Land pretty
thoroughly, and had shown that it is practically nothing but one
large ice-field, for many years very little attention had been given
to West Spitzbergen, and up till the end of last century nothing
whatever was known about its formation or its geographical features.
In 1896, however, the famous mountaineer, Sir Martin Conway, seeking
for fresh worlds to conquer, decided to repair thither himself and to
elucidate once and for all the mystery that surrounded that part of
the world.
Information concerning the nature of the regions over which he
proposed to travel was, of course, difficult to obtain. However he
read all the literature that existed upon the subject, and having
equipped himself with the Nansen sledges and ponies which, he
gathered, would be absolutely essential for success, he started
off on his travels with a party consisting of Mr E. J. Garwood,
his photographer, Dr Gregory, the geologist, Trevor Battye, the
ornithologist, and, as artist, his nephew, H. E. Conway.
On reaching Advent Bay, which he proposed to make his starting-place,
he was surprised to find an inn in the process of erection by an
enterprising Norwegian company. An inn in an uninhabited country
like Spitzbergen might seem _de trop_, but the explanation was
that a series of trips had been organised thither, and a steamer
was bringing out tourists once a week, most of whom were probably
attracted by Andrée’s balloon, then waiting at the north end of the
island for a chance to start on its hazardous voyage.
Leaving three members of his party to prosecute their scientific
researches near the coast, Conway and Mr Garwood set off on their
journey across the island on June 20. It was not long before they
discovered that their sledges and ponies were nothing but a handicap.
They had expected, of course, to find the interior covered by a great
ice-sheet like that of North-East Land. They actually discovered it
to be a land of temperate climate, intersected by green mountains and
boggy valleys, which were kept in a condition of perpetual stickiness
by the constant rain. In the mud thus formed the ponies were always
sinking, and many arduous hours were spent every day in digging or
pulling them out.
Conway had meant to make a hurried scamper across the island
and back again. He found, however, that the island was in a
process of mountain manufacture, and that the cañons in which the
interior abounded, slowly eating their way into the ridges, were
converting them by degrees into isolated peaks. This process he
found so interesting that he determined to change his plans, and he
accordingly travelled slowly on, over the magnificent Ivory Glacier,
down to Fouls Bay, and then back by a route that differed slightly
from that of his outward journey.
[Illustration: IN THE SLUSH]
On reaching Advent Bay he learnt that a tourist steamer had succeeded
in advancing without difficulty or danger to lat. 81° 32´ N., an
amazing record for such a boat. Fired by this, he promptly hired
the 12 ton steamer _Expres_, and started off on a trip round the
coast, during the course of which he paid a visit to Wellmann’s hut
and Andrée’s balloon. He would have liked to have done more, but
there was a dangerous ice-blink in the sky, and the captain refused
point-blank to venture any further in such a tin-kettle of a boat.
Sir Martin Conway paid another visit to Spitzbergen in the following
year, on which he was again accompanied by Mr Garwood. On this
occasion the two explorers occupied themselves chiefly with studying
the formation of the glaciers.
As we have just seen, while Conway was making the first crossing
of Spitzbergen, Andrée was waiting for an opportunity to start on
the daring but ill-fated Expedition for the discovery of the North
Pole, by which his name will always live in the annals of Arctic
exploration. Andrée was a Swedish engineer and an æronaut of unusual
skill and enterprise, and it was the success of his attempt to cross
the Baltic in a balloon that led him to think seriously of embarking
upon that project which was to cost him his life. The idea was,
it must be confessed, exceedingly tempting, and sounded feasible
enough. A steady south wind would waft a balloon in a few hours to
a point which a traveller over the ice could only reach after weeks
of strenuous labour, and Andrée had every reason to hope that within
a very short time of his departure from Spitzbergen he would be
hanging suspended over the Pole itself.
The project, though its extreme rashness was not to be denied,
commended itself to many, and the æronaut had little difficulty in
obtaining the necessary funds, among those who contributed to them
being the King of Sweden, the late Alfred Nobel, and Baron Dickson.
The construction of the balloon was entrusted to Lachambre of Paris.
The material used was Chinese Pongee silk, cemented together in
double, threefold, and fourfold layers, and covered with a coating of
special varnish. Its cubical contents were 158,294 feet.
It was to be guided by a sail fitted with guide ropes which would
drag along the ground and prevent the balloon from being driven at
the full force of the wind. The difference between the velocity of
the wind and of the retarded balloon was to be utilised for steering.
On trial the plan was found to answer very well.
The _Virgo_, carrying with it Andrée, his balloon, and a party of
geologists, left Tromsö on June 14, 1896, and nine days later a
suitable place for building the balloon house was found on Danes
Island. The landing of the balloon and the building of the house
occupied nearly a month, and it was not until July 27 that everything
was ready for a start. Unfortunately, however, the wind, which had
been for the most part favourable while the preparations were in
progress, now veered round, and for the rest of the summer it blew
steadily from the north, when it did not drop altogether. Week after
week passed by without bringing any prospects of a start, and at last
Andrée was obliged to pack up his balloon and return home, hoping
for better luck next year.
On May 30 he was back at Danes Island once more with his balloon,
which had been undergoing sundry modifications during the winter.
The house had fallen somewhat into disrepair, but it was soon put in
order, and the inflation of the balloon, which was begun on June 19,
was finished at midnight on the 22nd. Everything was now ready for a
start, and on Sunday, July 11, Andrée decided to take advantage of
a stiff breeze which had set in from the south. Standing in the car
with his two companions, Frænkel and Strindberg, he gave the orders
for the ropes to be cut. The balloon rapidly ascended, to a height
of 600 feet, and, after a temporary drop, floated away north over
the flat peninsula of Hollændernæs. It remained visible to those at
Danes Island for about an hour. Then it disappeared over the northern
horizon, never to be seen again.
The only news that the world ever received of Andrée and his
companions after this did nothing towards solving the mystery of
their fate. Of the thirteen buoys which he carried with him on
board his balloon only four were ever recovered. One was picked up
at Skjervö, in Norway, and was found to contain a message to the
effect that it had been thrown out at 10 o’clock on the night of
July 11. Another, which had been dispatched on its journey about an
hour later, when the party had reached lat. 82° N., long. 250 E.,
was recovered off the coast of Iceland. The two remaining buoys bore
no message from the explorer. On July 15, 1897, the sailors of the
s.s. _Alken_ shot a carrier pigeon which had been let loose two
days previously in lat. 82° 3´ N., long. 150 5´ E., but that was the
latest intelligence of the explorers that ever reached their friends
at home.
Many expeditions were sent out to their rescue, and reports were
brought in by natives of shots heard upon the ice and figures seen on
the drifting floes. Fishermen, too, said that they had heard cries
for help, and that they had seen what looked like a deflated balloon
drifting on the sea. But, carefully though these clues were followed,
they came to nothing, and it can only be supposed that, descending on
some vast ice-field far from human aid, probably somewhere between
Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, and Siberia, the unfortunate men perished
miserably of starvation and exposure.
[Illustration: ANDRÉE’S BALLOON IN ITS SHED]
CHAPTER XXXII
THE LATER VOYAGES OF SVERDRUP AND PEARY
As we have already seen, it was as Nansen’s companion on his journey
across Greenland, and as his second in command on the _Fram_, that
Otto Sverdrup first acquired the taste for Arctic travel which, in
1898, led him to undertake an expedition on his own account. The
primary object of his new journey was to complete the survey of the
northern shores of Greenland which had been so brilliantly begun
by Peary, and to discover once and for all whether there lay any
land beyond it in the direction of the North Pole. Failing that,
he proposed to examine Grinnell and Ellesmere Lands, of which vast
tracts still remained totally unexplored.
Sverdrup sailed from Upernavik on August 5, in our old friend the
_Fram_, which had been refitted for the new voyage, and was soon
well on his way up Smith Sound. On reaching Hayes Sound he decided
to go into winter quarters there, as it was, of course, impossible
to attempt to reach a much higher latitude that season, and there
was plenty of good work to be done in the neighbourhood. A couple
of sledge journeys across Ellesmere Island put him in possession
of many new facts concerning the geographical features of that
country, and, as soon as spring came round, he began his preparations
for pushing north. Unfortunately, however, the season was very
unfavourable, and he soon found that, for that year at any rate, his
project of following the north coast of Greenland must be put aside,
so he determined to explore Jones Sound, which had never before been
followed to its juncture with the Polar Sea.
In this he was entirely successful, and when the next winter came
round it found him comfortably ensconced in winter quarters on
the south coast of Ellesmere Land. It was while Sverdrup was away
exploring the coast that the career of the _Fram_ was very nearly
brought to an untimely end by fire. Fortunately, however, she
was saved, and early in August she was afloat again. All serious
thought of pushing up Smith Sound had now been abandoned, and
instead, Sverdrup made for Belcher Channel, at the mouth of which
the next winter was spent. During the spring and summer the work of
exploration went merrily on, with the result that the indefatigable
Sverdrup had soon added much of the unknown coast of North Devon to
the charts.
On returning to the _Fram_ he found, to his regret, that she was so
firmly fixed in the ice that even blasting operations on a large
scale had no effect, and he was, in consequence, obliged to resign
himself to the inevitable and to spend another winter at the mouth of
Belcher Channel. Fortunately, however, he had by no means exhausted
the possibilities of that neighbourhood, and he occupied himself with
making a journey north, for which cartographers have every reason
to be grateful to him, though he failed in his endeavour to reach
Aldridge’s farthest. In the following summer the _Fram_ was set free,
and was able to return to civilised regions.
Sverdrup’s voyage was unrelieved by any very sensational or exciting
incidents, but the work that he did during those four years was
admirable. He mapped out the west coast of Ellesmere Land—a most
arduous task, as it is broken up by a singularly intricate system
of fiords—he discovered three large islands west of that land, he
explored North Devon and the northern shores of North Cornwall
and Findlay Island, and he proved that land existed north of the
Parry Islands, a point on which diverse opinions had hitherto been
held. Consequently, though he never reached the northern shores
of Greenland for which he had set out, he had no reason to be
dissatisfied with the result of his journey.
The energy and enterprise which Lieutenant Peary displayed in
carrying on his chosen work in the Polar Regions aroused so much
sympathy in America, that not long ago a number of those who were
interested in it formed a club which they called the Peary Arctic
Club, and which was founded with a view to providing him with funds
for carrying on the explorations in which he had already achieved
so conspicuous a success. It was principally owing to the exertions
of this club that in 1898 Peary was able to set sail from Sidney
in the _Windward_, which had been presented to him by Sir Alfred
Harmsworth, with the double end in view of completing his examination
of the northern shores of Greenland, and, if possible, of reaching
the North Pole. This expedition was, probably, the most perfectly
planned that has ever set out from any shores.
The _Windward_ had been preceded by the auxiliary ship the _Hope_,
which, after depositing her stores at Etah, sailed for home, while
the _Windward_ herself tried to push on north up Smith Sound. Ice,
however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, and she was obliged to
go into winter quarters near Cape D’Urville, on the north side of
Princess Marie Bay. Peary’s plans for the autumn were threefold.
In the first place, he wished to survey the land around his winter
quarters, in the second place, he was anxious to obtain a supply
of fresh meat for his party, and, in the third place, he intended
to convey as large a supply of provisions as possible along the
coast. He was completely successful in fulfilling each of these
three objects. By the end of September he had explored much of the
surrounding country, proving the continuity of Ellesmere and Grinnell
lands, and dissipating several illusions which existed concerning
Hayes Sound, which he was unable to find at all, Buchanan Bay,
which had hitherto been held to be a strait, and Bache Promontory,
which was popularly supposed to be an island. Early in September he
relieved himself of all further anxiety concerning his supply of
fresh meat, by killing a herd of seventeen musk-oxen, while, by using
every ray of moonlight and often working in complete darkness, he
had, by December 4, cached 3300 lbs. of provisions at Cape Wilkes.
“No one,” he says, “who has not had the actual experience can imagine
the work and annoyances involved in transporting, in semi- or
complete darkness, those supplies along the frightful ice-foot which
lines the Grinnell land-coast.”
On December 20, when the winter, that is to say, was at its worst, he
started off with six men and thirty dogs on a singularly unattractive
journey to Fort Conger. The darkness was intense, the weather was bad
and the way lay through most unpleasant places, but they stumbled
on over the rough ice as best they could, and on January 6 they
succeeded in reaching their destination. Peary, unfortunately, had
to pay for his boldness in thus facing the Arctic winter, for he
found, on arriving at the Fort, that both his feet were so badly
frost-bitten that he was unable to walk, and when the time came to
turn he had to be lashed to a sledge and dragged the whole way home.
Worse, however, was to come, for the doctor found it necessary to
amputate eight of his toes on his arrival at the ship in March, and
Peary felt the effects of the operation for a long while afterwards.
But he was not the sort of man to give in even to such a disaster as
this, and in the early summer he insisted on making another trip to
Fort Conger, in spite of the pain that walking over the hummocky ice
caused him.
The _Windward_ was set free in August, and proceeded at once to Etah,
where Peary had decided to spend the winter, as he did not consider
the ship fitted for an attempt to push northward through the ice.
Here she was joined by the _Diana_, which had been sent out with
supplies, and, after spending a few weeks in walrus-hunting, the two
ships sailed in company for America.
During the latter part of the winter Peary and his whole party
left Etah for Fort Conger, which they succeeded in reaching by the
end of March. After a few days’ rest the commander, with some of
his Eskimos, started off on what was to be the great event of the
summer—a journey round the north coast of Greenland. The way was
exceedingly rough, and days were often spent in the arduous work of
hewing a way for the sledges through the rugged ice. Determination,
however, made light of the great difficulties, and they pushed gamely
on past Lockwood’s farthest point and round the north coast of Hazen
Land, till, on May 19, Peary’s eyes were gladdened by a fleeting
glimpse of a mountain of peculiar shape, which he recognised as the
peak that he had seen rising proudly to the north when, in 1895,
he stood on the ice-cap south of Independence Bay. Unfortunately,
a heavy fog came down upon the party, and they were prevented from
exploring the rest of the Bay before lack of provisions obliged them
to start for home two days later.
Fort Conger was reached in safety, and the rest of the Arctic day
was spent in laying in a supply of fresh meat for the long night.
On April 17, after an ineffectual attempt to push north, Peary
and his men started off for Payer Bay. Here, as he expected, he
met the _Windward_, which had been sent out with supplies. All of
these were taken ashore, and the rest of the summer was spent in
re-establishing the line of _caches_ to Fort Conger. The winter was
destined to be trying, for several of the Eskimos fell ill, and Peary
was consequently obliged not only to nurse and see after them, but
also to do most of the hard work of preparing for the summer journey
single-handed. By February 1, however, his arrangements were complete
and most of his patients had recovered, so he started for Fort Conger
once more, intending to make it the base of his dash for the North
Pole. It was not, however, until April 1 that he was able to leave
Cape Hecla with nine sledges, and he soon found that the lateness of
his departure made it practically impossible for him to win success
that year. Huge pressure ridges, great masses of ice-rubble, frequent
open channels and deep snow made the way almost impracticable, and on
April 21, after reaching 81° 17,´ 27´´, he had to make this entry in
his journal.
“The game is off. My dream of sixteen years is ended. It cleared
during the night and we got under way this morning. Deep snow. Two
small old floes. Then came another region of old rubble and deep
snow. A survey from the top of a pinnacle showed this extended north,
east and west as far as could be seen. The two old floes over which
we had just come were the only ones in sight. It is impracticable and
I gave the order to camp. I have made the best fight I knew; and I
believe it has been a good one.”
There was now nothing for them to do but to make the best of their
way back. They reached Payer Harbour on May 17, where the _Windward_,
with Mrs Peary and her daughter on board, joined them on August 5.
Shortly after this the whole party set sail for home.
Peary has since shown, however, that the passage which we have quoted
from his diary was written in a fit of momentary despondency, and
that his dream of sixteen years is by no means over, for last year he
set sail in the _Roosevelt_ on another dash for the Pole, the results
of which are now being awaited with the keenest interest.
CHAPTER XXXIII
OTHER RECENT EXPEDITIONS—ABRUZZI, WELLMANN AND TOLL
From his earliest days Prince Louis Amadeus of Savoy, Duke of the
Abruzzi, displayed a strong taste for adventure, and while he was
still very young, he made a name for himself as a mountaineer of
more than average daring and skill. It was in 1897, after he had
returned from a successful attempt to climb Mount Elias, the great
Alaskan mountain which had hitherto proved too much for even the most
intrepid adventurers, that he first conceived the idea of organising
an expedition, the object of which should be the discovery of the
North Pole. After spending some eighteen months in considering the
problem and consulting authorities as to the best course to pursue,
he purchased a whaler of 358 tons and 400 horse-power, which was
originally known as the _Jason_, but which he rechristened the
_Stella Polare_, and set to work to fit her out for the expedition
which he proposed to make.
The _Stella Polare_ was provisioned for five years, and her company
included Umberto Cagni, who sailed as captain, Count Franco Quirini,
who served as lieutenant, Doctor A. C. Molinelli, and three Alpine
guides. Sailing from Laurvik, near Christiania, on June 14 1899,
she touched at Tromsö, Hammerfest, Vardö and Archangel, where she
picked up 120 Siberian dogs. Thence her course was set for Franz
Josef Land, which was made in the neighbourhood of Jackson’s house at
Cape Flora. Finding the house in excellent condition, the Duke landed
a store of provisions there to secure himself and his crew against
starvation, in the event of their vessel being lost. Having taken
this precaution, he continued his voyage up British Channel, passing
on his way the members of the Wellmann expedition, who were being
conveyed home in the _Capella_. From them he heard rumours of a new
archipelago to the north of Franz Josef Land, of which, however, he
subsequently failed to find any traces whatever.
Ice rendered the passage up the channel very difficult, but the
_Stella Polare_ succeeded in making her way along Karl Alexander Land
and Crown Prince Rudolph Land, till she doubled Cape Fligely. Here
further progress was totally impossible, so the Duke put back to
Teplitz Bay, where he had decided to spend the winter.
On September 8 the ice in the harbour became very much disturbed, and
the _Stella Polare_ was nipped so severely that she sprang a leak.
The engine room was soon flooded, and for three successive days and
nights half the crew were at the pumps, while the rest were engaged
in transferring the provisions and equipment to the shore. Thanks to
the efforts of the officers and men, the ship was saved, but, being
half full of water, she was perfectly useless as a place of abode,
and tents had to be erected on land.
The winter was spent in making such short expeditions as the weather
permitted, and it was while he was away on one of these that the
Duke had the misfortune to be caught in a snowstorm, during which
two of his fingers were so badly frost-bitten, that they had to be
amputated. This was particularly unlucky for him, as the wound had
not sufficiently healed by the beginning of March to allow him to
take part in the great sledge expedition which was to be the chief
feature of the voyage. The command was, accordingly, entrusted to
Captain Cagni, who started out on the 13th with general instructions
to push as far north as he could. During the early part of his
journey he was accompanied by two supporting parties, on whose stock
of provisions he and his men were to subsist for as long as possible,
in order that his own little store might remain intact until he was
well on his way. The first of these parties to leave him was that
conducted by Lieutenant Quirini, and it was never heard of again. The
Duke sent out search parties in every direction, but not a trace of
their missing comrades could they find, and it can only be supposed
that they either fell down in a crevasse, or were overtaken by a
storm, and frozen to death.
In the meanwhile, Cagni and his three companions pushed on northward
as rapidly as possible. They found the ice comparatively smooth, and
by April 25 they had reached lat. 86° 33´, thus beating Nansen’s
record by some thirty miles. Unfortunately their provisions began
to give out, and they were compelled to beat a hasty retreat. The
outward journey had been a comparatively simple matter, but on their
homeward way they were beset by all sorts of unexpected difficulties
which brought them to the very verge of starvation. The field of
ice over which they were travelling was constantly drifting in a
westerly direction, carrying them further and further from the bay
which they were trying to reach. Leads were always opening ahead of
them, which had to be crossed by some means or other, but, though
they had kayacks with them, these had been so damaged as that they
were hardly seaworthy, while it was often quite impossible to use
them amidst the constantly shifting ice. On several occasions Cagni
had to cross a channel on a small piece of floe, taking with him a
rope by which his companions, with their impedimenta, were towed
across on a larger block, while once a short voyage was made on a
large sheet of ice which was propelled by means of the sails of the
kayacks. Moreover, their provisions were getting very low, and for
the last fortnight of their voyage they were obliged to subsist
entirely on their dogs. Of the eighty with which they started out on
their journey, only six remained when at last they reached the ship.
To attempt to spend another winter in the ice with the ship in so
bad a condition would have been folly. Accordingly, the leak in the
_Stella Polare’s_ side was found and stopped, she was released from
her bed of ice by means of gun-cotton, and on September 6 she was
safely back at Hammerfest.
[Illustration: THE “POLAR STAR” UNDER ICE PRESSURE]
It was in 1894 that the American paper, the _New York Herald_, sent
out Mr Walter Wellmann to search for Nansen and to make for the North
Pole if conditions permitted. Leaving Tromsö on the first of May
in the _Ragnald Jarl_, he set his course for Spitzbergen, which he
proposed to make the base of his sledge expedition, and his ship was
soon lying off Walden Island. A fortnight later Wellmann set off
north with a party of thirteen men and an equipment of the most
improved design. He had only been travelling for about four days,
however, when a sailor brought him the unpleasant tidings his ship
had been crushed to pieces by the ice, and that but little had been
saved. Wellmann, however, was not to be deterred from carrying on
his plans, and he sent back orders to the captain to build himself a
hut out of the wreckage, while he himself pushed pluckily forward.
Unfortunately for him the ice soon became so rough that further
progress was out of the question, and he was obliged to abandon the
attempt when six miles north of the east of the Platen Islands.
Eventually the whole party made its way back to America in safety.
Undiscouraged by his first experiences, Wellmann started out again
in 1898 with a view to completing the exploration of Franz Josef
Land. Reaching Cape Flora on July 28, he found Jackson’s houses
still in perfect condition, and, acting with Sir Alfred Harmsworth’s
permission, he proceeded to transfer one of them to Cape Tegetthoff,
which he proposed to make his headquarters. During the next few
months he succeeded in mapping out much of that part of Franz
Josef Land which was still unknown, and he would doubtless have
accomplished more had he not unfortunately fallen down a small
crevasse and injured his leg so severely that he was obliged to order
a retreat.
At the present moment Mr Wellmann is considering a plan for reaching
the North Pole by airship, in which he hopes to have the co-operation
of M. Santos-Dumont.
Profiting by the advance of science and the experiences of their
predecessors, Arctic explorers have, of course, reduced the danger of
travelling in the frozen regions to a minimum, and it is very rarely
that an expedition ends in tragedy. In recent years, indeed, with
the exception of Captain Cagni and his party who perished during the
Duke of the Abruzzi’s expedition, only four men, Baron Toll, F. G.
Seeberg, and their two hunters, have lost their lives in the cause of
science in the Arctic regions.
The principal field of Baron Toll’s Arctic investigations lay among
the islands of the Siberian Ocean, whither, from the year 1885
onwards, he conducted a series of brilliantly successful expeditions,
all of which added greatly to the world’s knowledge of the geology,
meteorology, botany, and palæontology of these unexplored lands. He
started out on his last journey on July 22, 1900, in the splendidly
equipped laboratory ship _Sarya_, which was provisioned for four
years, with the object of continuing the work by which his name had
already become famous. The first winter was spent at Taimur, at
the mouth of the Khatanga, and in the following summer he rounded
Cape Chelyuskin, paid a visit to Bennett Island, and was ultimately
frozen into Nerpchya Bay, where he met an auxiliary expedition sent
out under Volossovich. On June 20 he set out with the astronomer,
F. G. Seeberg, and two hunters on a journey of exploration. From a
record subsequently found on Bennett Island by Lieutenant Kolchak,
we know that the party followed the north coast of Kotelnyi and
Thadeef Islands, keeping their course towards New Siberia. Here the
ice broke up, and, taking to their boats, they reached Bennett
Island on August 26. The record ends with these words: “To-day we are
going southwards. We have provisions for 14 to 20 days. All in good
health.” That is all we shall ever know of the fate of Baron Toll and
his companions.
M. Brusneff is of opinion that they must have perished on their way
across from Bennett Island to New Siberia. Before they could have
reached the end of that journey the weather was becoming cold and ice
must have been forming upon the sea, making it impossible for them to
cross it in their boats. They had only provisions for a fortnight or
three weeks, and little prospect of adding to their supplies, while,
to make matters worse, they had no warm clothing with them. It is
to be feared that the latest victims claimed by the Arctic regions
must have suffered severely before death brought them release from
their troubles and robbed the world of two of its ablest and most
enthusiastic men of science.
So ends the story of Arctic exploration up to the present time. Those
who have read these pages cannot fail to have been impressed by the
gallantry with which generations of brave men have willingly faced,
in the cause of science, the terrible privations and sufferings only
to be met with in the frozen North, or to have felt proud of the part
which Great Britain has played in solving the secrets of the Polar
regions. Yet, dangerous though the service unquestionably is, it is a
fact that at no time in the whole of its history has the death-rate
among those engaged in it exceeded the average death-rate of the
navy, while so immense has been the advance made in the science of
Arctic travel during recent years that the risks attending it have
now been reduced to a minimum.
Much has been accomplished, but much still remains to be done. There
is around the Pole a tract of over two million square miles which
have never yet been visited by a human being, and there can be no
doubt that if this tract can be made to give up its secrets the world
of science will profit immensely. The Pole itself still remains to
be conquered, and though it is difficult at present to see how that
terribly arduous journey over the rough seas of palæocrystic ice
is to be accomplished, science will doubtless find a way. Of this,
at any rate, we may be sure; so long as the Pole retains a single
secret, there will not be wanting brave men who will gladly go
through any dangers, and suffer any privations, if they can but wrest
it from its prison of ice.
[Illustration:
CHART OF THE
NORTH POLAR REGIONS
]
INDEX
A
Abruzzi, The Duke of the, 301 _et seq._
Adam, 54.
_Advance_, the, 132, 182 _et seq._
Akaitcho, 49.
Aldrich, Pelham, 216;
sledging expedition, 219.
_Alert_, the, voyage of, 215.
_Alexander_, the, 35.
Alexieff, 24.
Ambler, Dr, 249.
Anderson, James, 168.
Andrée, 289, etc.
Ankudinoff, 24.
Anne, Empress, 24.
Archangel, 7.
Armitage, Lieut., 273.
Armstrong, Dr, 143 _et seq._
_Assistance_, the, 132, 152, 156.
Astrup, Elvind, 264 _et seq._
Augustus, 60 _et seq._
Austin, Capt. H., 132 _et seq._
B
Back, George, 31, 45, 71, 87, 95 _et seq._
Baffin, William, 20 _et seq._
Banks, Sir Joseph, 30.
Baptiste, 73.
Barents, W., 12 _et seq._
Barren Ground, 53.
Barrow, Sir John, 30.
Battye, Trevor, 287.
_Bear_, the, 231.
Beaumont, Lieut., Expedition of, 221.
Beechey, 31 _et seq._, 38, 79, 102.
Beechey Island, 132.
Belanger, 59.
Belcher, Sir E., 150 _et seq._
Bellot, J. R., 135;
death, 156.
Bennett, J. G., 244.
Benoit, 60.
Bering, Vitus, expeditions of, 25, 26
death, 26.
Bessels, Dr, 195.
Bird, John, 113.
Bismarck, Count, 223.
Blonkvist, 273.
Blosseville, Lieut., 258.
_Blossom_, H.M.S., 71.
_Bona Esperanza_, the, 6.
Booth, Felix, 86.
Borgen, Dr, 201.
Boyle, John, 145.
Brainan, Sergt., 228.
Brooks, 182, 185.
Bruce, James, 113.
Brusneff, 307.
Buchan, Capt., 31 _et seq._
Buddington, Capt. J. M., 157, 194, 195.
Button, Sir Thomas, 20.
Bylot, Richard, 20 _et seq._
C
Cabot, John, 2.
Cabot, Sebastian, 2.
Cagni, U., 301.
_Carcase_, the, 27.
Carlsen, Capt. E., 236.
Carnegie, A., 236.
_Castor_, the, 104.
Chancellor, Capt. Richard, 6 _et seq._
Chester, 195.
Child, 271.
Chipps, Lieut., 249.
Christian, Hans, 187 _et seq._, 216.
Chydenius, Prof., 236.
Clavering, Capt., 258.
Clerke, Capt., 29.
Collinson, Capt. Richard, 137;
voyage of, 147 _et seq._, 155.
Columbus, 2.
Coningham, Mrs, 118.
Conway, H. E., 287.
Conway, Sir Martin, 287 _et seq._
Cook, Capt., 29.
Cook, Dr, 264.
Copeland, Dr, 201.
Coppinger, Dr, 221.
Credit, 58.
Crozier, F. R. M., 117;
record of, 175.
D
Dalagar, 258.
Daniell, the Dane, 258.
Dannett, Captain, 121.
Davis, John, 8 _et seq._
Dease, P. C., 103.
De Bray, 153.
De Bruyne, 253.
De Haven, Lieut., 132.
De Long, Commander, 244.
Deshneff, 24.
Des Vœux, C. F., 117, 175.
De Veer, Gerrit, 14.
_Diana_, the, 297.
Dickson, Oscar, 236, 241, 242, 290.
Dietrichson, Lieut., 260.
Digges, Sir Dudley, 18.
_Discovery_, the (1778), 18;
(1875), 215.
Domville, Dr, 146, 153.
_Dorothea_, the, 31 _et seq._
Durfourth, Cornelius, 6.
E
Eberlin, P., 258.
Edge, Thomas, 236.
_Edward Bonaventure_, the, 6.
Egede, Han, 258.
Egerton, Lieut., 219.
Ehrensvärd, Count, 236.
_Eira_, the, 253 _et seq._
Ekman, 236.
_Elizabeth_, the, 10.
_Ellen_, the, 10.
Ellesmere Land, explored by Sverdrup, 293;
by Peary, 296.
Elson, 79.
Emory, H. H., 231.
_Enterprise_, the, 132, 137, 147 _et seq._
_Erebus_, the, 116 _et seq._
_Expres_, the, 289.
_Express_, the, 242.
F
Fairholm, Commander, 117.
_Falcon_, the, 267.
_Felix_, the, 132.
Fisher, H., 271.
Fitzjames, James, 116 _et seq._
Forsyth, Capt., 133.
_Fortuna_, the, 24.
_Fox_, the, 168 _et seq._
Fox, “North-West,” 21.
Fraenkel, 291.
_Fram_, the, under Nansen, 279 _et seq._;
under Sverdrup, 293 _et seq._
Franklin, Lady, 132, 169.
Franklin, Sir John, voyage on _Trent_, 31;
first overland journey, 45 _et seq._;
second land journey, 70 _et seq._;
last voyage, 116 _et seq._;
search for, 129 _et seq._;
relics of, found by Hobson, 173 _et seq._
Franz Josef Land, discovered, 211;
explored by Leigh Smith, 254;
by Jackson, 270 _et seq._;
by the Duke of the Abruzzi, 302;
by Wellmann, 305.
_Frazier_, the, 242.
Frobisher, Martin, 7 _et seq._
_Fury_, the, 64.
G
_Gabriel_, the, 25.
Garde, 258.
Garlington, Lieut., 230.
Garwood, E. J., 287.
_George_, the, 11.
_Germania_, the, 200 _et seq._
Gibbons, 20.
Gibson, 264.
Giesecke, K. L., 258.
Gilder, W. H., 181.
_Gladen_, the, 237.
Goodsir, H., 118.
Gordon, Admiral, 157.
Gore, Graham, 100, 117, 175.
Graah, W. A., 258.
Gray, David, 253.
Gray, John, 253.
Greely, A. W., 224 _et seq._
Greene, H., 19.
Greenland, discovered by Erik, 2, 8-10;
explored by Hudson, 17, 20;
Koldewey, 200 _et seq._;
for explorations of Nansen, Peary, and others, see chapters
xxviii. and xxxii.;
Beaumont, 221;
Lockwood, 227.
Grinnell, Henry, 182.
Grinnell Land, explored by Aldrich, 221;
Peary, 295.
_Griper_, the, 38 _et seq._
Grosseliez, 22.
H
Hall, Charles Francis, 192 _et seq._
Hamilton, Lieut, 152 _et seq._
Hamke, Gale, 258.
_Hansa_, the, 201 _et seq._
Harmsworth, Alfred (Lord Northcliffe), 271, 295.
Harstene, Lieut., 190.
Haswell, Lieut., 145
Hayes, I. I., 182 _et seq._;
voyage of, 190.
Hazen, General, 234.
Hearne, Samuel, 23.
_Hecla_, the, 38.
Heemskeerck, J., 12.
Hegemann, voyage of, 201 _et seq._
Heilprin, Prof., 264.
Hepburn, John, 45 _et seq._
_Herald_, the, 129, 138.
Hettlitz, Dr, 271.
Hobday, George, 180.
Hobson, Lieut. W. R., 169, 171, 179, 180;
discovers Gore’s Record, 174.
Hodgson, 117.
Holm, G., 257.
Hood, Robert, 45 _et seq._
_Hope_, the, 256.
Hoppner, Lieut., 38, 87.
Hudson, Henry, 17 _et seq._, 258.
Hudson Bay Company, formation of, 22.
I
Ignatieff, I., 24.
Inglefield, E. A., 156.
International Circumpolar Stations, 223 _et seq._
_Intrepid_, the, 132, 152.
_Investigator_, the, 132, 137 _et seq._
Irving, Lieut., 175.
_Isabel_, the, 86.
_Isabella_, the, 35.
_Isbjörn_, the, 207.
J
Jackson, Charles, 11.
Jackson, F. G., 270 _et seq._, 285.
James, Capt., 21.
_Jeannette_, the, cruise of, 244 _et seq._;
relics found, 278.
Jensen, 258.
Johannsen, 273, 280 _et seq._
K
Kane, Elisha Kent, expedition of, 182 _et seq._
Kellett, Captain, 129, 138, 145, 146;
expedition of, 152 _et seq._, 157.
Kennedy, Captain, 135, 136.
King, John, 19.
King, Richard, 96.
Kislingbury, Lieut., 226;
death of, 231.
_Kite_, the, 264.
Knight, James, 22.
Knudsen, R., 258.
Knutsen, H., 258.
Kolchak, Lieut., 306.
Koldewey, Karl, 200 _et seq._
Krabbe, 154.
L
Lachambre, 290.
_Lady Franklin_, the, 132.
Legros, 113.
Leif, 2.
_Lena_, the, 242.
Liddon, Lieut., 38.
Lincoln, R., 231, 234.
_Lion_, the, 74.
Lutwidge, Capt., 27.
Lyon, Capt. G. F., 64, 79.
M
M’Clintock, F. L., 134, 135, 152, 153;
search for Franklin, 169 _et seq._
M’Clure, J. Le M., 100, 137 _et seq._, 153, 157.
M’Gary, 187.
M’Kay, 99.
Mackenzie, A., 24.
_Magnet_, the, 124.
Maigaard, Christian, 263.
Markham, A. H., 216, 219, 220, 253.
May, Lieut., 219.
Mecham, Lieut., 152 _et seq._
Melville, Lord, 80.
Melville, Lieut., 234, 245 _et seq._
_Merimade_, the, 9.
Mias, Lieut., 65.
Middleton, Captain, 65.
_Minion_, the, 16.
Mohn, Prof., 279.
Molinelli, Dr, 301.
_Monticello_, the, 193.
_Moonshine_, the, 8.
Moore, Commander, 129, 138.
Morton, 183, 187.
Munk, Jens, 21.
Muscovy Company, 11.
N
Naddod the Viking, 1.
_Nancy Dawson_, the, 129.
Nansen, F., 244;
crosses Greenland, 259;
meets Jackson, 274;
voyage in the _Fram_, 279.
Nares, G., 152, 153, 215 _et seq._
Nathorst, A., 258.
Nelson, H., 28.
Nobel, A., 290.
Nordenskiöld, A. E., early voyages of, 235 _et seq._;
the _Vega_, 241 _et seq._;
Greenland, 258-9.
Norquist, Lieut., 243.
North-east voyages: Willoughby, 6;
Jackson and Pet, 11;
Barents, 11 _et seq._;
Russian voyages, 24;
Bering, 25 _et seq._;
passage discovered by Nordenskiöld, 241.
North magnetic pole, 90 _et seq._
North Polar expeditions: Thorne, 4;
Phipps and Lutwidge, 27 _et seq._;
Buchan and Franklin, 31 _et seq._;
Parry, 79 _et seq._;
Weyprecht, 207 _et seq._;
Markham, 220;
Nordenskiöld, 239;
De Long, 244 _et seq._;
Nansen, 278 _et seq._;
Andrée, 289 _et seq._;
Peary, 298;
Abruzzi, 303;
Wellmann, 304.
_North Star_, the, 132 _et seq._
North-west expedition, suggested, by Cabot, 2;
Davis, 8 _et seq._;
Hudson, 18 _et seq._;
Baffin, 20;
Fox, 21;
Knight, 22;
Middleton, 23;
Hearne, 23;
Mackenzie, 24;
Cook, 29;
Ross and Parry, 35 _et seq._;
Parry, 1819, 38 _et seq._;
1821, 64 _et seq._;
1823, 68;
Franklin, 1819, 45 _et seq._;
1825, 71 _et seq._;
1845, 117 _et seq._;
Lyon, 79;
Ross, 87;
Back, 1833, 95 _et seq._;
1836, 100 _et seq._;
Dease and Simpson, 102 _et seq._;
Rae, 1846, 124;
discovery of the North-West Passage by M’Clure, 140.
Nova Zembla, discovered by Burrough, 7 _et seq._;
visited Barents, 12;
by Hudson, 18.
O
Ommaney, E., 132, 135.
_Onkle Adam_, the, 237.
Osborn Sherard, 20, 141, 152.
Oscar, King, 242.
Osmer, Mr, 118.
P
Parr, Lieut., 219.
Parry, W. E., voyage of, 1818, 35 _et seq._;
1819, 38 _et seq._;
1821-24, 64 _et seq._;
1827, 79 _et seq._
Pavy, Dr, 227;
death of, 231.
Payer, J., 207.
Peabody, G., 182.
Peary, Lieut., journeys of, 263 _et seq._, 295 _et seq._
Peltier, 62.
Penny, William, 132 _et seq._
Perrault, 57.
Pet, 11.
Peter the Great, 24.
Petermann, Dr, 200, 245.
Petersen, C., 134, 169, 189, 216;
death of, 219.
Phipps, J. C. (Lord Mulgrave), 27.
_Phœnix_, the, 147, 156, 157.
Pick, Capt. Richard, 264.
Pike, Capt., 232.
Pim, Bedford, 130, 145, 152.
_Pioneer_, the, 132, 152.
_Plover_, the, 129, 137.
_Polaris_, the, 194.
_Pollux_, the, 104.
_Prince Albert_, the, 132, 135.
_Proteus_, the, voyage of, 1881, 225;
wreck of, 230.
_Proven_, the, 241.
Pullen, W. J., 130 _et seq._
Pytheus, 1.
Q
Quirini, Count Franco, 301;
death of, 303.
R
_Racehorse_, the, 27.
Rae, 122;
search for Franklin, 131, 159 _et seq._;
second expedition, 160 _et seq._;
obtains news of Franklin, 161.
_Ragnald Jarl_, the, 304.
_Ravenscraig_, the, 198.
Rawson, Lieut., sledging expedition, 219.
Reid, Lieut., 65.
_Reliance_, the, 74.
_Rescue_, the, 132.
_Resolute_, the, 132, 145 _et seq._, 152;
recovered by Buddington, 157.
Richards, Commander G. H., 152.
Richardson, Sir John, 45 _et seq._, 131 _et seq._
Rink, H., 258.
Robeson, Mr, 194.
_Roosevelt_, the, 300.
Ross, George, 95.
Ross, Sir James Clark, 31, 87 _et seq._, 132, 175.
Ross, Sir John, 10, 31;
expeditions of 35 _et seq._, 87 _et seq._
Rupert, Prince, 22.
Ryder, Lieut., 258.
Ryp, John Cornelius, 12.
S
Sabine, Edward, Capt., 38, 41, 258.
Sackheuse, John, 35.
_St Peter_ and _St Paul_, the, 26.
Samandré, 62.
Sanderson, William, 8.
Sandwich, Earl of, 27.
Saunders, 132.
Schley, Capt. W. S., relieves Greely, 231.
Schwatka, Lieut. F., 181.
Scoresby, Capt. William, jun., 30, 258.
Scott-Hansen, Lieut., 280.
_Searchthrift_, the, 7.
Seeberg, F. G., 306;
death of, 307.
Sheddon, Robert, 129 _et seq._
Siberian Ocean, Islands of, 248, 306.
Sibiriakoff, A., 242.
Simpson, Sir George, 111, 122, 159.
Simpson, Thomas, 103 _et seq._
Smith, Leigh, relieves Nordenskiöld, 241;
voyages of, 252.
Smith Sound, discovered by Baffin, 21;
explored by Kane and Hayes, 182 _et seq._;
by Hall, 192 _et seq._; by Nares, 216 _et seq._
Sontag, death of, 191.
_Sophia_, the, 132.
Spanberg, 25.
Spitzbergen, discovered by Barents, 12;
explored by Buchan and Franklin, 31 _et seq._;
by Nordenskiöld, 235;
circumnavigated by Carlsen, 236;
explored by Leigh Smith, 252, _et seq._;
by Conway, 287.
Steenstrup, K. J. v., 258.
_Stella Polare_, the, 301 _et seq._
Steller, 26.
Stevenson, H. F., 216.
Strindberg, 9, 291.
_Sunshine_, the, 8, 10.
Sverdrup, Otto, 260, 280;
voyage of, 293.
T
_Talbot_, the, 157.
_Tegetthoff_, the, 207 _et seq._
_Terror_, the, 100, 6.
_Thetis_, the, 231.
Thorne, Robert, 4, 27.
Thorold, 1.
_Tigress_, the, 198.
Toll, Baron, 306 _et seq._
Torrell, Prof., 235.
_Trent_, the, 31.
Tschirikoff, 26.
Tyson, E., 195.
V
Vaillant, 58.
Vasilovich, Ivan, 6.
_Vega_, the, 149, 242-3;
the voyage of, 149 _et seq._
Verhoeff, John, 264.
_Victory_, the, 86.
_Virgo_, the, 290.
Volossovich, 306.
W
Walker, Dr, 169.
Wallöe, Olsen, 258.
Walsingham, Cape, 9.
Wandell, 258.
Warwick, Earl, 7.
Waxell, Lieut., 26.
Wellman, H., 302;
voyages of, 304 _et seq._
Wentzel, 49 _et seq._
Weymouth, 17.
Weyprecht, Carl, 207;
lecture of, 223 _et seq._
Wilde, Capt., 232.
_Willem Barents_, the, 256.
_William_, the, 11.
Williams, Governor, 46, 47.
Willoughby, Sir Hugh, 6 _et seq._
_Windward_, the, voyage of, 271 _et seq._, 295.
Wolstenholm, Sir John, 18.
Wrangel Land, 245 _et seq._
Y
_Yantic_, the, voyage of, 230.
_Ymer_, the, 241.
Young, Sir Allen, 169, 171, 180, 244.
Transcriber’s Notes
pg v Changed: Franklin’s Last Vovage
to: Franklin’s Last Voyage
pg 41 Changed: season opened with a brillant performance
to: season opened with a brilliant performance
pg 126 Changed: 63 deer, 5 hares, 1 seal, 172 patridges
to: 63 deer, 5 hares, 1 seal, 172 partridges
pg 207 Changed: with navigation, and Lieutentant Julius Payer
to: with navigation, and Lieutenant Julius Payer
pg 245 Changed: on the strength of Chuckche reports
to: on the strength of Chukche reports
pg 252 Changed: decided to make another expedition northword
to: decided to make another expedition northward
pg 272 Changed: had to knock of work
to: had to knock off work
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