The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism. Volume 3

by Frederick Whymper

CHAPTER XVI.

Paucity of Arctic Expeditions in the Eighteenth Century—Phipps’ Voyage—Walls of Ice—Ferocious Sea-horses—A Beautiful Glacier—Cook’s Voyage—A Fresh Attempt—Extension of the Government Rewards—Cape Prince of Wales—Among the Tchuktchis—Icy Cape—Baffled by the Ice—Russian Voyages—The Two Unconquerable Capes—Peter the Great—Behring’s Voyages—Discovery of the Straits—The Third Voyage—Scurvy and Shipwreck—Death of the Commander—New Siberia—The Ivory Islands.

The eighteenth century was not remarkable for the number of northern voyages instigated in England for geographical research. This was partly due to the many previous failures, but still more to important discoveries which were being made in other parts of the world, and which for the time threw Arctic adventure in the shade. The land and river expeditions of Samuel Hearne and Alexander Mackenzie to the shores or neighbourhood of the Arctic Ocean do not come within the scope of this work, and strong doubts have been expressed as to whether either of these explorers really reached salt water, although both were undoubtedly near it.

The northern voyage of Captain Constantine John Phipps (afterwards Lord Mulgrave) deserves some notice, inasmuch as it was a distinct attempt to reach the North Pole. The Hon. Daines Barrington and others had, prior to 1773, agitated the subject before the Royal Society, and the President and Council of that learned body had memorialised the Government to fit out an expedition for the purpose, which His Majesty was pleased to direct should be immediately undertaken. Two vessels, the Racehorse and the Carcass, were selected, the former having ninety and the second eighty men on board. The ships left the Nore on June 10th, 1773, and seventeen days later had reached the latitude of the southern part of Spitzbergen, without having met ice or experiencing cold. But from the 5th of July onwards, when off Spitzbergen, they met immense fields, almost “one compact, impenetrable body,” and the most heroic and persevering efforts failed to penetrate it or find an opening. In Waigatz Strait, where some of the officers landed on a low, flat island, large fir-trees, roots and all, and in other cases timber which had [pg 155]been hewn with an axe, were noticed on the shore. These had, undoubtedly, drifted out from some of the great rivers of the mainland. While here they wounded a sea-horse, which immediately dived, and brought up a whole army of others to the rescue. They attacked the boat, which was nearly upset and stove in, and wrested an oar from one of the sailors.

ENCOUNTER WITH SEA-HORSES.

On July 30th the weather was exceedingly lovely, and the scene around them, says Captain Phipps, “beautiful and picturesque; the two ships becalmed in a large bay, with three apparent openings between the islands that formed it, but everywhere surrounded with ice as far as we could see, with some streams of water; not a breath of air; the water perfectly smooth; the ice covered with snow, low and even, except a few broken pieces near the edges; the pools of water in the middle of the pieces were frozen over with young ice.” On August 1st the ice began to press in, and places which had before been flat and almost level with the water were forced higher than the main-yards of the vessels. The crews were set to work to try and cut out the ships, and they sawed through ice sometimes as much as twelve feet thick, but without effecting their escape. Meantime the ships drifted with the ice into fourteen fathoms, and Captain Phipps, greatly alarmed, at one time proposed to abandon the ships and betake to the boats. On August 7th, keeping their launch out and ready for emergencies, they crowded all sail on the vessels, and three days later, after incurring much danger, reached the open water, and anchored in Fair Haven, Spitzbergen. A remarkably grand iceberg,[27] or, more properly, glacier, was observed here. The face towards the sea was nearly perpendicular, and about 300 feet high, with a cascade of water issuing from it. The contrast of the dark mountains and white snow, with the beautiful green colour of the near ice, made a very pleasing and uncommon picture. Phipps describes an iceberg which had floated from this glacier and grounded in twenty-four fathoms (144 feet). It was fifty feet above the surface of the water.

Captain Phipps did not pursue his investigations farther, but bore for England, which he reached late in September. The unfavourable termination of his voyage did not deter the Government from other efforts. Another voyage was ordered, and the celebrated navigator, Captain James Cook, appointed to the command. The object was to attempt once more the north-west passage, but in a new manner. Hitherto all efforts had been made from the Atlantic side; on this occasion the plan was reversed, and the vessels were to enter the Polar seas from the Pacific Ocean. The two vessels employed, the Resolution and Discovery, are now historically famous from the extensive voyages made in them, in the Pacific more particularly. The first was commanded by Cook, and the latter by Captain Clerke. By an Act of Parliament then outstanding a reward of £20,000 was held out to ships belonging to any of His Majesty’s subjects which should make the passage, but it excluded the vessels of the Royal Navy. This was now amended to include His Majesty’s ships, and a further reward of £5,000 offered to any vessel which should approach within one degree of the North Pole.

The two ships, after making many discoveries in the Pacific, entered Behring Strait on August 9th, 1779, and anchored near a point of land which has been subsequently found to be the extreme western point of North America, and to which Cook gave the name Cape Prince of Wales. Some elevations, like stages, and others like huts, were seen on this part of the coast, and they thought also that some people were visible. A little later Cook stood over to the Asiatic coast, where, entering a large bay, he found a village of the natives known now-a-days as Tchuktchis. They were found to be peaceable and civil, and several interchanges of presents were made.

In 1865 and 1866 the writer of these pages, when in the service of the Russian-American Telegraph Expedition, had an opportunity of visiting an almost identical village in Plover Bay, Eastern Siberia.[28] The bay itself, sometimes called Port Providence, has generally passed by the former name since the visit of H.M.S. Plover, which laid up there in the winter of 1848-9, when employed on the search for Sir John Franklin. Bare cliffs and [pg 157]rugged mountains hem it in on three sides, and a long spit, on which the native village is situated, shelters it on the ocean (or Behring Sea) side. The Tchuktchis live in skin tents. The remains of underground houses are seen, but the people who used them have passed away. The present race makes no use of such houses. Although their skin dwellings appear outwardly rough, and are patched with every variety of hide—walrus, seal, and reindeer—with here and there a fragment of a sail obtained from the whalers, they are in reality constructed over frames built of the larger bones of whales and walruses, and very admirably put together. In this most exposed of villages the wintry blasts must be fearful, yet these people are to be found there at all seasons. Wood they have none,[29] and blubber lamps are the only means they have for warming their tents. The frames of some of their skin canoes are also of bone. On either side of these craft, which are the counterpart of the Greenland canoes it is usual to find a sealskin blown out tight and the ends secured. These serve as floats to steady the canoe. They have very strong fishing-nets, made of thin strips of walrus hide.

TCHUKTCHI INDIANS BUILDING A HUT.

The Tchuktchis are a strongly-built race, although the inhabitants of this particular village, from intercourse with whaling vessels, have been much demoralised. One of these natives was seen carrying the awkward burden of a carpenter’s chest weighing two hundred pounds without apparently considering it a great exertion. They are a good-humoured people, and not greedier than the average of natives; they are very generally honest. They were of much service to a large party of men who wintered there in 1866-7, at the period when it was proposed to cross Behring Straits with a submarine cable in connection with the land lines then partly under construction by the Western Union Telegraph Company of America.

“The children are so tightly sewn up in reindeer-skin clothing that they look like walking bags, and tumble about with the greatest impunity. All of these people wear skin coats, pantaloons, and boots, excepting only on high days in summer, when you may see a few old garments of more civilised appearance that have seen better days, and have been traded off by the sailors of vessels calling there.

“The true Tchuktchi method of smoking is to swallow all the fumes of the tobacco; and I have seen them after six or eight pulls at a pipe fall back, completely intoxicated for the time being. Their pipes are infinitely larger in the stem than in the bowl; the latter, indeed, holds an infinitesimally small amount of tobacco.

“It is said that the Tchuktchis murder the old and feeble, but only with the victim’s consent! They do not appear to indulge in any unnecessary cruelty, but endeavour to stupify the aged sacrifice before letting a vein. This is said to be done by putting some substance up the nostrils; but the whole statement must be received with caution, although we derived it from a shrewd native who had been much employed by the captains of vessels in the capacity of interpreter, and who could speak in broken English.

“This native, by name ‘Nau-Kum,’ was of service on various occasions, and was accordingly much petted by us. Some of his remarks are worthy of record. On being taken down into the engine-room of the steamer Wright, he examined it carefully, and then shaking his head, said solemnly, ‘Too muchee wheel, makee man too muchee think!’ His curiosity when on board was unappeasable. ‘What’s that fellow?’ was his constant query with regard to anything, from the ‘donkey-engine’ to the mainmast. On one occasion he heard two men discussing rather warmly, and could not at all understand such unnecessary excitement. ‘That fellow crazy?’ said he. Colonel Bulkley (engineer-in-chief of the telegraph enterprise) gave him a suit of clothes with gorgeous brass buttons, and many other presents. The whalers use such men on occasions as pilots, traders, and interpreters, and to Naukum in particular I know as much as five barrels of villanous whiskey have been entrusted, for which he accounted satisfactorily. The truth-loving Chippewa, when asked, ‘Are you a Christian Indian?’ promptly replied, ‘No, I whishkey Injen!’ and the truthful Tchuktchi would say the same. They all appear to be intensely fond of spirits. The traders sell them liquors of the most horrible kind, not much superior to the ‘coal oil’ or ‘kerosene’ used for lamps.” So much for natives, who, in Captain Cook’s time, were doubtless much more innocent and unsophisticated.

To resume our narrative: Cook again crossed to the northern American coast, and on August 17th reached a point encumbered with ice, which formed an impenetrable field. To [pg 159]this point he gave the name Icy Cape, and it was the furthest east he was able to proceed. While he made every effort to fulfil the object of his mission he was baffled at every point, and on August 30th he turned the vessels’ bows southward. After many explorations of both the Asiatic and American coasts, it will be remembered that he lost his life at the Sandwich Islands. He was succeeded by Captain Clerke, who in 1779 again attempted to make the passage, but with even less success than had been attained by Captain Cook.

In order that the various sections of this subject should not become confused or involved, mention of many Russian voyages, which had for their aim the exploration of the coasts of Northern Asia, and among which were several direct attempts at making the north-east passage, has been purposely omitted till now. As early as 1648 Deshneff undoubtedly made a voyage from the mouth of the Kolyma round the extreme eastern point of Asia, and through Behring Straits to the Anadyr. In very early times the Russians used to creep along the coast at the other end of the continent, from Archangel to the Obi, and in the eighteenth century, in particular, many efforts were made to extend the explorations eastward. In brief, several explorers, Lieutenants Maravief, Malgyn, and Shurakoff, between the years 1734 and 1738, sailed from Archangel to the Obi, doubling the promontory; Lieutenant Koskelof made a successful voyage from the Obi to the Yenesei in 1738; and in 1735 Lieutenant Pronchishchef, who was accompanied by his wife, got very close to Cape Chelyuskin (or North-east Cape) on its eastern side, his vessel being frozen in near that point. Both himself and his wife died there. In 1742 Lieutenant Chelyuskin reached the northernmost cape, which bears his name, by a sledge journey. The North East Cape (Cape Chelyuskin) and the neighbouring Cape Taimyr[30] had never been rounded, till Professor Nordenskjöld only the other day succeeded in passing both, thus making the long-sought north-east passage. From the Lena eastward to the Kolyma voyages have often been made, and, as we have seen, Deshneff had completed the circuit of the coast from the Kolyma eastward at a very early period. The records of this voyage were entirely overlooked for a century, when they were unearthed at Yakutsk, in Siberia, by Müller, the historian of the voyages about to be narrated.

Inseparably connected with the history of Arctic voyages are those of Vitus Behring, an explorer who deserves to rank among the greatest of his century, although his several adventurous attempts are comparatively little known. Behring was a Dane who had been attracted into the Russian service by the fame of Peter the Great, and his expeditions had been directly planned by that enterprising and sagacious monarch. The emperor, however, did not live to see them consummated. Their main objects were to determine whether Asia and America did or did not join at some northern point and form one continent; and if detached, how nearly the coasts approached each other. “The Empress Catherine,” says Müller, the historian of Behring’s life, “as she endeavoured in all points to execute most precisely the plans of her deceased husband, in a manner began her reign with an order for the expedition to Kamtschatka.” Behring was appointed commander, having associated with him Lieutenants Spanberg and Tschirikoff. They took their final orders on [pg 160]February 5th, 1725, and proceeded overland through Siberia to the Ochotsk Sea. It certainly gives some idea of the difficult nature of the trip in those days when we find that it occupied them two years to transport their stores and outfit to Ochotsk. A vessel was specially constructed, in which they crossed to Bolcheretsk, in Kamchatka,[31] and the following winter their provisions and naval stores were transported to Nishni (new) Kamchatka, a small town, or rather village, which is still one of the few settlements in that great peninsula. “On the 4th of April, 1728,” says Müller, “a boat was put upon the stocks, like the packet-boats used in the Baltick, and on the 10th of July was launched, and named the boat Gabriel.” On the 20th of the same month Behring left the river, and following the east coasts of Kamchatka and Siberia, reached as far north as 67° 18′ in the straits which now bear his name. Here, finding the land trend to the west, he came to the conclusion that he had reached the extreme point of Asia, and that the continent of America, although contiguous, did not join it. Of course we know that in the latter and main point he was right. He discovered St. Laurence Island, and in the autumn returned successfully to the town from which he had sailed. In a second voyage contrary winds baffled all his efforts to reach and examine the coasts of America, and eventually he doubled the southern point of Kamchatka, and returned viâ the Siberian overland route to St. Petersburg.

It is to the third voyage of Behring that the greatest interest attaches. His first attempt had been successful in its main object, and both the leader and his officers were fired with an ambition to distinguish themselves in further explorations. Müller says:—“The design of the first voyage was not brought on the carpet again upon this occasion, since it was looked upon as completed; but instead of that, orders were given to make voyages, as well eastward to the continent of America as southward to Japan, and to discover, if possible, at the same time, through the frozen sea the north passage (the italics are ours—Ed.), which had been so frequently attempted by the English and Dutch. The Senate, the Admiralty Office, and the Academy of Sciences, all took their parts to complete this important undertaking.” Behring and his faithful lieutenants were promoted, and a number of naval officers were ordered to join the expedition. Several scientific professors, John George Gmelin, Lewis de Lisle de la Croyère, S. Müller, and one Steller, a student, volunteered to accompany Behring. Two of these latter never went to sea—a probably fortunate circumstance for themselves, as the sequel will show—but confined themselves to land researches in Siberia.

After long and tedious journeyings, and great trouble in transporting their stores across the dreary wilds of Siberia, they at length reached Petropaulovski, Kamchatka, and having constructed vessels, left that port on July 4th, 1741, on their eventful voyage. Early in its history the ships became separated during the continuance of a terrible gale. [pg 161]Behring discovered many of the Aleutian and other islands nearer the American coast. The scurvy making its appearance, this brave commander endeavoured to return to Kamchatka. The sickness increased, and they became so exhausted that “two sailors who used to be at the rudder were obliged to be led in by two others who could hardly walk. And when one could sit and steer no longer, another, in little better condition, supplied his place. Many sails they durst not hoist, because there was nobody to lower them in case of need.” At last land appeared, and they endeavoured to sail towards it; getting near it, the anchor was dropped. A violent gale arose, and the vessel was driven on the rocks, which she touched; they cast a second anchor, but its cable was snapped before it took ground. Their little barque was thrown bodily over the rocks by a sea which threatened to overwhelm them, but, fortunately, inside the reef the water was calmer, and the crew, having rested, managed to launch their boat, and some of them reached the shore. There was scarcely any drift-wood on the beach, and no trees on the island; hence they determined to roof over some small ravines or gullies near the beach. On the “8th of November a beginning was made to land the sick, but some died as soon as they were brought from between-decks in the open air, others during the time [pg 162]they were on the deck, some in the boat, and many more as soon as they were brought on shore.” The following day the commander, Behring—himself terribly prostrated with scurvy—was brought ashore on a hand-barrow, and a month later died on the island which is now known by his name. “He may be said to have been buried half alive, for the sand rolling down continually from the side of the ditch in which he lay, and covering his feet, he at last would not suffer it to be removed, and said that he felt some warmth from it, which otherwise he should want in the remaining parts of his body; and thus the sand increased to his belly, so that after his decease they were obliged to scrape him out of the ground in order to inter him in a proper manner.” Poor Behring! It was a melancholy end for an explorer so great.

Their vessel, lying unprotected, became an utter wreck, and the larger part of their stores and provisions was lost. They subsisted for a considerable time on dead whales which had been driven ashore. At last, in the spring they resolved to construct a small vessel from the wreck, which was at length completed, and they left the dreary scene of their sufferings. Never were shipwrecked mariners more rejoiced than when once more they sighted and reached the coast of Kamchatka. Behring’s companion, Tschirikoff, had preceded them the previous autumn, having lost twenty-one men by scurvy; and the Professor de la Croyère, who had lingered till the last moment, died in sight of Petropaulovski.

In 1770 a Russian merchant, named Liakhof, crossed on the ice from the mainland to the islands in the Polar Ocean which now bear his name, although sometimes called New Siberia. Immense quantities of mammoth bones were discovered, and he obtained from the Empress Catherine the exclusive right of digging for them. As late as the year 1821 as much as nine to ten tons per annum of this fossil ivory were being obtained from this source. Hedenström, in 1809, and Anjou, in 1821, examined these islands in detail. The latter travelled out on the ice to a considerable distance north of the islands, and found open water.

CHAPTER XVII.

The Expeditions of Ross and Parry.

Remarkable Change in the Greenland Ice-fields—Immense Icebergs found out of their Latitude—Ross the First’s Expedition—Festivities among the Danes—Interviews with Esquimaux—Crimson Snow—A Mythical Discovery—The Croker Mountains—Buchan’s Expedition—Bursting of Icebergs—Effects of Concussion—The Creation of an Iceberg—Spitzbergen in Summer—Animated Nature—Millions of Birds—Refuge in an Ice-pack—Parry and his Exploits—His Noble Character—First Arctic Voyage—Sails over the Croker Mountains.

The long series of interesting voyages which have been made to the Arctic regions during the present century were commenced in 1818, after a considerable period of inaction and apathy had existed in regard to northern exploration. The renewal of these attempts was not brought about by accident or caprice, but was due to a great change, which had been noted by many whalers and navigators. Sir John Barrow, one of the most consistent and persistent advocates of Arctic exploration, as well as one of the most intelligent writers of his day, says: “The event alluded to was the disappearance of the whole, or greater part, of the vast barrier of ice which for a long period of time—perhaps for centuries—was supposed to have maintained [pg 163]its firm-rooted position on the eastern coast of Old Greenland, and its reappearance in a more southerly latitude, where it was met with, as was attested by various persons worthy of credit, in the years 1815, 1816, and 1817, by ships coming from the East Indies and America, by others going to Halifax and Newfoundland, and in different parts of the Atlantic, as far down as the 40th parallel of latitude.” Large islands of ice had impeded some voyagers for days together; icebergs miles in extent, and from one to two hundred feet high, had been reported. A vessel had been beset for eleven days on the coast of Labrador in floes of ice mixed with icebergs, many of which had huge rocks, gravel, soil, and wood upon them. In short, there was so much testimony from various sources to the vast break-up which had occurred that it created a great deal of attention among scientific men and navigators.

It was perfectly understood whence the larger part of this ice must be derived. Scoresby the younger, in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, recorded the fact that some 18,000 square miles of the surface of the Greenland seas included between the parallels of 74° and 80° were known to be void of ice, and that this immense change had been effected within two years. Intelligence received at Copenhagen in 1816 from Iceland indicated that the ice had broken loose from the opposite coast of Greenland, and floated away to the southward, after surrounding the shores of Iceland and filling all the creeks and bays of that island. This was repeated in 1817.

SIR JOHN ROSS.

The public notice taken of the above facts led to two expeditions being ordered, the first of which, under Commander (afterwards Sir) John Ross, was remarkable for the number of officers who accompanied it, and who, later, acquired distinction in the Arctic explorations of this century. Parry, J. C. Ross (the commander’s nephew), Sabine (long President of the Royal Society, and a most distinguished savan), then a captain of the Royal Artillery, Hoppner, and others, were among the number. The ships employed were the Isabella and Alexander, and the commander’s instructions were to attempt the north-west passage by the western route.

On the 1st of June, 1818, they had reached the eastern side of Davis’s Strait, but detained by ice, and it was not till the 3rd of the following month that they arrived at the Women’s Islands. The delay did not prevent them from having some pleasant intercourse with the Danes and Esquimaux of the Greenland settlements. Extempore balls were organised, where their interpreter, Jack Sackhouse (or Saccheous), was of great value. Jack combined in his person the somewhat discordant qualifications of seaman, interpreter, draughtsman, and master of ceremonies, with those of a fisher of seals and a successful hunter of white bears.

A favourable breeze sprang up, and Ross was anxious to leave, as the ice began to separate. Jack had gone ashore, and when a boat was sent for him he was found in one of the huts with his collar-bone broken, from having greatly overloaded and discharged his gun. His idea was, as he expressed it, “Plenty powder, plenty kill!” Proceeding northward, and passing many whalers, he examined and named Melville Bay. On August 10th, the ships being at anchor near shore, eight sledges of Esquimaux were observed, and Saccheous was despatched with a flag and some presents in order to parley with them, they being on one side of a field of ice, in which was a canal or chasm. After much shouting and gesticulating, Saccheous held out his presents, and [pg 164]called to them in their own language to approach. The reply was “No, no; go away!” and one man said, “Go away; I can kill you!” holding up a knife. The interpreter, however, threw them an English knife, which they accepted, and pulled their noses, which Ross represents to mean a sign of friendship. They soon became more familiar, and pointing to the ships, asked, “What great creatures these are. Do they come from the sun or the moon? Do they give us light by day or by night?” To which Saccheous replied, “They are houses made of wood.” The natives would not believe this, answering, “No, they are alive; we have seen them move their wings.” Ross entitles these natives the “Arctic Highlanders.” There is a good deal of rather doubtful matter in the narrative of Ross, and it is certainly more than likely that these people had often seen whale-ships.

FISKERNÆS, SOUTH GREENLAND.

Not far from Cape Dudley Digges Ross observed some of the cliffs covered with the crimson snow often mentioned in other Arctic narratives, and indeed noted by Saussure in the Alps. “This snow,” he says, “was penetrated even down to the rock, in many places to a depth of ten or twelve feet, by colouring matter.” Some of this having been bottled, was analysed on their return by Mr. Brande, the celebrated chemist, who, detecting uric acid, pronounced it to be no other than the excrement of birds. [pg 165]Other authorities considered it to be of vegetable origin, judging it to be probably the drainage from some particular kind of moss, the roots of which are of that colour.

The results of this voyage were not extensive. Ross only reached Sir James Lancaster’s Sound, where an imaginary discovery of his has since given rise to much ridicule. He fancied that he saw at the bottom of a bay an extensive range of mountains, the which he somewhat unfortunately named after Mr. Croker, the then Secretary of the Admiralty. [pg 166]The site of the Croker Mountains was a year afterwards sailed over by Parry! It is certain that either clouds, mirage, or some other phenomenon of nature, had misled him. A very similar fact was noted by Captain Nares in his expedition.

The second of the two expeditions was that performed under the command of Captain David Buchan, who had associated with him a number of officers, including John Franklin, Frederick Beechey, and George Back, who afterwards distinguished themselves in various branches of the Arctic service. Buchan himself was a first-rate navigator, particularly well acquainted with the dangers of the northern seas, more especially on the Newfoundland station. He had also made a remarkable journey across the ice and snow of that island in order to communicate with the natives, and was the first European who had so done. Subsequent to the expedition about to be recorded, he lost his life on the Upton Castle, a vessel making the voyage from India, and the exact fate of which was never known.

THE “DOROTHEA” AND THE “TRENT” IN THE ICE.

The two vessels employed on this service were the Dorothea and the Trent. The instructions directed Buchan to proceed to the northward, between Spitzbergen and Greenland, without delay on the way, and use his best endeavours to reach the North Pole or its neighbourhood. On May 24th the expedition had reached Cherie Island, on the coasts of which the walruses were so numerous that at about that period as many as 900 or 1,000 had been captured by the crew of a single vessel in seven hours’ time. Many interesting traits of walrus character—if the expression may be used—were observed on this expedition. “We were greatly amused,” says Captain Beechey, the historian of the voyage, “by the singular and affectionate conduct of a walrus towards its young. In the vast sheet of ice that surrounded the ships there were occasionally many pools, and when the weather was clear and warm, animals of various kinds would frequently rise and sport about in them, or crawl from thence upon the ice to bask in the warmth of the sun. A walrus rose in one of these pools close to the ship, and finding everything quiet, dived down and brought up its young, which it held by its breast by pressing it with its flipper. In this manner it moved about the pool, keeping in an erect posture, and always directing the face of the young towards the vessel. On the slightest movement on board the mother released her flipper and pushed the young one under water, but when everything was again quiet, brought it up as before, and for a length of time continued to play about in the pool, to the great amusement of the seamen, who gave her credit for abilities in tuition which, though possessed of considerable sagacity, she hardly merited.”

MAGDALEN BAY, SPITZBERGEN.

On May 28th, the weather being severe, with heavy fogs, the ships separated, to rejoin at Magdalena Bay, Spitzbergen, a few days later. The harbour was full of ice in a rapidly decaying state. This bay is remarkable for four glaciers, the smallest of which, called the Hanging Iceberg, is 200 feet above the sea-level at its termination. The largest extends several miles inland, and, owing to the immense rents in its surface, was called the Waggon Way. In the vicinity of the icebergs, which had become detached from these glaciers, the observance of strict silence was necessary, and the concussion produced by the discharge of a gun (not its “explosion,” as Sir John Barrow says) would often detach large masses. Beechey notes the effects of such a discharge: A musket had been fired at half a mile distance, which not merely brought down an immense piece of [pg 167]ice, but which was the cause of a ship’s launch being carried ninety-six feet by the wave produced, filled with water, and landed on a beach, where it was badly stove, the men barely escaping with their lives. They also had the rare opportunity of noting the creation of an iceberg. An immense piece of the front of a glacier was observed sliding down from the height of at least 200 feet into the sea, dispersing the water in every direction. This discharge was accompanied by a loud grinding noise, and the ice was followed by quantities of water, which, being previously lodged in the fissures, now made its escape in numberless small cataracts from the face of the glacier. Some idea may be formed of the disturbance caused by its plunge and the rollers which agitated the bay when we learn that the Dorothea, then careening on her side at a distance of four miles, righted herself. This mass dived wholly under water, and then reappeared, rearing its head a hundred feet high, accompanied by the boiling of the sea and clouds of spray. Its circumference was found to be nearly a quarter of a mile, while its weight was computed at over 400,000 tons.

In summer the coasts of Spitzbergen were found perfectly alive with animated nature. The shores reverberated with the cries of the little auks, cormorants, divers, and gulls. Walruses were basking in the sun, mingling their roar with the bark of the seal. Beechey describes an uninterrupted line of little auks flying in the air three miles in length, and so close together that thirty fell at one shot. He estimated their number at 4,000,000, allowing sixteen to a cubic yard. This number appears very large; yet Audubon, in describing the passenger-pigeons on the banks of the Ohio, speaks of one single flock of 1,115,000,000. Audubon’s character for veracity is too unquestioned for us to inquire how he made the calculation.

The surrounding islands were thick with reindeer, Vogel Sang, in particular, yielding the expedition forty carcases. The king eider-ducks were found in such numbers that it was impossible almost to walk without treading on their nests, which they defended with determined resolution; but, in fact, all nature was alive at this time, and birds of many kinds, foxes, and bears, were everywhere found on the shore and on the ice, while amphibious animals, from whales downwards, abounded in the water.

On the 7th of June the ships left Magdalena Bay, and were greatly hampered in the ice. Indeed, they learned from several whale-ships that the ice to the westward was very thick, and that fifteen vessels were beset in it. Proceeding northward themselves, they became entangled in a floe of ice, where they had to remain thirteen days, after which the field broke up, and they got into an open sea. Several attempts were made to prosecute their voyage in a northerly direction, but without success; and Captain Buchan, being satisfied that he had given the ice a fair trial in the vicinity of Spitzbergen, resolved on bearing for the coast of Greenland. Having arrived at the edge of the pack, a gale came on so suddenly that they were at once reduced to storm staysails. The vessels were reduced to take refuge among the ice, a proceeding often rendered necessary in those latitudes, though extremely dangerous. The Trent, following the Dorothea, dashed into the unbroken line of furious breakers, in which immense masses of ice were crashing, heaving, and subsiding with the waves. The noise was so great that the officers could scarcely be heard by the crew. “If ever the fortitude of seamen was fairly tried it was assuredly not less so on this occasion; and I would not,” says Beechey, “conceal the pride I felt in wit[pg 168]nessing the bold and decisive tone in which the orders were issued by the commander of our little vessel (Franklin), and the promptitude and steadiness with which they were executed by the crew. Each person instinctively secured his own hold, and, with his eyes fixed upon the masts, awaited in breathless anxiety the moment of the concussion. It soon arrived; the brig, cutting her way through the light ice, came in violent contact with the main body. In an instant we all lost our footing, the masts bent with the impetus, and the cracking timbers from below bespoke a pressure which was calculated to awaken our serious apprehensions.” So great was the motion of the vessel that the ship’s bells tolled continually, and they were ordered to be muffled; the heaviest gale of wind had never before made them strike. After many dangers from the ice the pack broke up sufficiently to release the ships, both of which were greatly disabled, while the Dorothea was in a foundering condition. They proceeded as well as they could to Fair Haven, Spitzbergen, where the damages were in some sort repaired, and they sailed for home.

The character of Sir William Edward Parry, who carried the Union Jack nearer the Pole than any explorer prior to Markham and Parr, was truly admirable, while his services to his country were as brilliant as they were numerous. In every way he was an honour to the British navy, such a union of lofty heroism, consummate nautical skill, and calm daring, is almost without parallel. The amiability and benevolence of his manners endeared him to all ranks of the service, and made him the idol of his men, whom he never failed to encourage by all the means in his power. His name, though written in snow and ice, is imperishable, for his heart was in his work, and he always believed in its future success. In the four voyages made under his command to the Arctic seas he was most careful of the health and comfort of his followers, and lost fewer hands than any other commander in these parts; and when we remember the kind of vessels he sometimes sailed in (the Griper, in particular, being about as unseaworthy a ship as could well be sent out of dock), we can only wonder at his patience under difficulties and the persevering energy which kept him “pegging away.”

The son of a celebrated physician, Dr. Caleb Hillier Parry, he was born at Bath on the 19th of December, 1760, and was intended originally for his father’s profession; but circumstances having occurred to alter his determination, he was appointed to the Ville de Paris, the flagship of Admiral Cornwallis’s Channel Fleet, as a volunteer of the first class. Here he remained for three years, during which period he was engaged in an action off Brest Harbour. Fortunate in making his first essay of a seaman’s life under officers who were desirous of winning the esteem and affection of those beneath them, he soon became a favourite, and the admiral, on his leaving the ship, thus records his opinion of him:—“Parry is a fine, steady lad. I never knew any one so generally approved of. He will receive civility and kindness from all while he continues to conduct himself as he has done, which, I dare believe, will be as long as he lives.” He was afterwards appointed to the Tribune frigate and to the Vanguard, and was frequently engaged with the Danish gun-boats in the Baltic.

In 1810 he gained his epaulet, and joined the Alexandria frigate, in which, after serving in the Baltic, he made his first acquaintance with polar ice between North Cape and Bear Island; and he subsequently joined the La Hogue at Halifax. In 1814 he [pg 169]commanded a boat in a successful expedition up the Connecticut river, for which service he received a medal. Three years later he was recalled to England in consequence of the severe illness of his father, who had been seized with a paralytic stroke. His father’s illness and his own despair of promotion made this the gloomiest period of our young hero’s life. But dark is the hour before the dawn, and an incident occurred which threw a gleam of hope upon his professional prospects, and proved the forerunner to his future success. At the close of 1817 he wrote to a friend on the subject of an expedition that was about starting to explore the River Congo. The letter was written, but not posted, when his eye fell on a paragraph in the newspaper relative to an expedition about to be fitted out to the northern regions. He seized the pen, and added, by way of postscript, that, as far as he was concerned, “hot or cold it was all one to him, Africa or the Pole.” This letter was shown to Mr. Barrow, the then Secretary of the Admiralty, and in a few days he was appointed to the command of the Alexander, discovery ship, under the orders of Commander John Ross, as recorded in the first voyage of the present series.

THE NORTH CAPE.

In 1819-20 Parry made a second voyage to the Arctic, this being the first, however, in which he had the chief command. The Hecla and the Griper were the vessels [pg 170]employed, and the expedition left the river on May 11th, reaching Davis’s Strait at the end of June, where icebergs of large size and in great numbers were encountered. Fifty or sixty per diem was not an unusual allowance, and Parry counted eighty-eight large ones from the crow’s nest on one occasion, besides a profusion of smaller ones. Some most important explorations in Sir James Lancaster’s Sound were made, and the land which Ross had supposed extended across the bottom of this inlet was found to be open water. The expedition sailed across the site of the Croker Mountains, as has been before mentioned. Barrow’s Strait, Wellington Channel, Melville Island, and many others, were first discovered and named on this voyage.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Parry’s Expeditions (continued).

Five Thousand Pounds earned by Parry’s Expedition—Winter Quarters—Theatre—An Arctic Newspaper—Effects of Intense Cold—The Observatory Burned down—Return to England—Parry’s Second Expedition—“Young” Ice—Winter at Lyon’s Inlet—A Snow Village in Winter and Spring—Break-up of the Ice—The Vessels in a Terrible Position—Third Winter Quarters—Parry’s Fourth Winter—The Fury Abandoned—The Old Griper and her Noble Crew.

A very important event—at least, so far as concerned the members of Parry’s expedition—was that which occurred on September 4th, 1819. On that day the commander had the satisfaction of announcing to officers and crew that they had crossed the meridian of 110 W. from Greenwich, by which they had become entitled to the reward of £5,000 offered by the Government to “such of His Majesty’s subjects as might succeed in penetrating thus far to the westward within the Arctic circle.” To a bluff headland near this point the appropriate name of Cape Bounty was given. After many perils in the ice, a secure harbour was selected for their winter quarters at Melville Island, but before they could enter it a canal, two and one-third miles, had to be cut through the ice. This feat was performed in three days by the united efforts of “all hands” from both vessels; and as they would probably have to remain eight or nine months in that spot, Parry began the arrangements for promoting the comfort and health of his crews, the wisdom of which has often since been admitted and imitated by others, but which were not very commonly understood then. Parry, however, has hardly had a superior in these matters since. The vessels were well housed in, and all that was possible done for warming and ventilating the decks and cabins. An anti-scorbutic beer was brewed, and issued in lieu of spirits. Some difficulty was experienced in the very cold weather in making it ferment sufficiently to become palatable. A theatre was organised on board the Hecla, in the arrangements for which Parry took a part himself, “considering,” says he, “that an example of cheerfulness, by giving a direct countenance to everything that could contribute to it, was not the least essential part of my duty, under the peculiar circumstances in which we were placed.” A little weekly newspaper, The North Georgia Gazette and Winter Chronicle, edited by the since illustrious Sabine, was organised, and helped to employ many contributors, and divert their minds “from the gloomy prospect which would sometimes obtrude itself on the stoutest heart.” For this desolate spot was [pg 171]destined, as it proved, to be their home for nearly ten months. The animals had nearly all left; seals were not found in the neighbourhood; even gulls and ducks avoided Melville Island, where the only vegetation consisted of stunted grasses and lichens. The cold was intense, and such experiences as the following did not offer much inducement for prolonged trips from the vessels.

One John Pearson, a marine, had imprudently gone out without his mittens, to attempt hunting, and with a musket in his hands. A party from the ships found him, although the night was very dark, just as he had fallen down a bank of snow, and was beginning to feel that degree of torpor and drowsiness which, if indulged, inevitably proves fatal. “When he was brought on board,” says Parry, “his fingers were quite stiff, and bent into the shape of that part of the musket which he had been carrying; and the frost had so far destroyed the animation in his fingers on one hand that it was necessary to amputate three of them a short time after, notwithstanding all the care and attention paid to him by the medical gentlemen. The effect which exposure to severe frost has in benumbing the mental as well as the corporeal faculties was very striking in this man, as well as in two of the young gentlemen who returned after dark, and of whom we were anxious to make inquiries respecting Pearson. When I sent for them into my cabin, they looked wild, spoke thick and indistinctly, and it was impossible to draw from them a rational answer to any of our questions. After being on board for a short time the mental faculties appeared gradually to return with the returning circulation; and it was not till then that a looker-on could easily persuade himself that they had not been drinking too freely.” At other times excursions were made when the thermometer was 40° or 50° below zero without special inconvenience. The fact is that one’s safety or danger much depends on the absence or prevalence of wind. Even the natives of extreme latitudes have been frozen to death during its prevalence. On February 24th, 1820, a fire broke out in their house ashore, and in their anxiety to save the valuable instruments it contained, sixteen men incurred frost-bite, the thermometer on that day being from -43° to -44° (76° below freezing). One man, by incautiously leaving his gloves off, had afterwards to suffer the amputation of most of his fingers. When he arrived on board his hands were plunged in cold water, the surface of which was immediately covered with a skin of ice by the cold suddenly communicated! “The appearance,” says Parry, “which our faces presented at the fire was a curious one, almost every nose and cheek having become quite white with frost-bites in five minutes after being exposed to the weather; so that it was deemed necessary for the medical gentlemen, together with some others appointed to assist them, to go constantly round while the men were working at the fire, and to rub with snow the parts affected, in order to restore animation.”

On the 16th day of February the greatest degree of cold was experienced, the thermometer having descended to -55°, and remained for fifteen hours at -54°; the less to have been expected as the old year had closed with mild weather. On the following day, Parry says, “notwithstanding the low temperature of the external atmosphere, the officers contrived to act, as usual, the play announced for this evening; but it must be confessed that it was almost too cold for either the actors or the audience to enjoy it, especially those of the former who undertook to appear in female dresses.” As early as March the snow commenced to melt, according to Parry’s statement. This, however, could only possibly mean under the rays of the midday [pg 172]sun, as, at the same time, we are told that the thermometer stood at -22° to -25° in the shade (the latter 57° below the freezing point of water). In May the ships were again afloat, the men having cut the ice around them. But the sea, as far as the eye could reach, was still “one unbroken and continuous surface of solid and impenetrable ice,” not less than six or seven feet in thickness. It was not till the very last day of July that the ice broke up, and on August 1st the ships stood out to sea. Many a “nip” and “heavy rub,” as Parry describes it, did the ships sustain after this; but in spite of perils from the ice, which would become monotonous in the telling, the expedition reached England safely in the latter part of October; and, in spite of all casualties, but one man out of ninety-four had died during their eighteen months’ absence—a fact which certainly speaks volumes for Parry’s unremitting care and attention to the health of his crews.

ESQUIMAUX OF WEST GREENLAND.

In 1821-3 we again find the indefatigable Parry in the field, this, the second voyage under his direct command, being undertaken for the discovery of a north-west passage. The vessels employed were the Fury and the Hecla, and the expedition left the Nore on May 8th, 1821. Most of the experiences recorded in his work were similar to those already mentioned; and only a few general facts and extracts from his journal are therefore presented. Two winters were passed by him among the frozen realms on this voyage, and several geographical examinations of importance made. The Frozen Strait, Repulse Bay, and many islands of the same neighbourhood, were carefully explored. Parry, in his journal of October 8th, gives the following interesting description of the formation of “young” ice upon the surface of the sea, and the obstacle which it forms to navigation.

“The formation of young ice upon the surface of the water is the circumstance which most decidedly begins to put a stop to the navigation of these seas, and warns the seaman that his season of active operations is nearly at an end. It is indeed scarcely possible to conceive the degree of hindrance occasioned by this impediment, trifling as it always appears before it is encountered. When the sheet has acquired the thickness of about half an inch, and is of considerable extent, a ship is liable to be stopped by it, unless favoured by a strong and free wind; and even when retaining her [pg 174]way through the water at the rate of a mile an hour her course is not always under the control of the helmsman, though assisted by the nicest attention to the action of the sails; but it depends upon some accidental increase or decrease in the thickness of the sheet of ice with which one bow or the other comes in contact. Nor is it possible in this situation for the boats to render their usual assistance by running out lines or otherwise; for having once entered the young ice, they can only be propelled slowly through it by digging the oars and boat-hooks into it, at the same time breaking it across the bows, and by rolling the boat from side to side. After continuing this laborious work for some time with little good effect, and considerable damage to the planks and oars, a boat is often obliged to return the same way that she came, backing out in the canal thus formed to no purpose. A ship in this helpless state, her sails in vain expanded to a favourable breeze, her ordinary resources failing, and suddenly arrested in her course upon the element through which she has been accustomed to move without restraint, has often reminded me of Gulliver tied down by the feeble hands of Lilliputians; nor are the struggles she makes to effect a release, and the apparent insignificance of the means by which her efforts are opposed the least just or the least vexatious part of the resemblance.”

AN ESQUIMAUX SNOW VILLAGE.

It was now again time to fix upon winter quarters, and in an extensive opening of the American mainland, which they named Lyon’s Inlet, a suitable harbour was selected. The arrangements for the comfort and employment of the crews were much as before. The Sabbath was carefully observed, schools and harmless amusements provided, while the interests of science were not neglected. An observatory and house were erected for magnetic and astronomical observations. On February 1st a number of Esquimaux arrived, who had erected a temporary village some two miles from the ships. They, unlike some before seen in the vicinity of Hudson’s Strait, who had become debased and demoralised by their constant intercourse with whaling vessels, were of the unsophisticated order, and were quiet, peaceable, and, strange to say, reasonably clean. Some of the women, having handsome garments, which attracted the attention of those on board, began, to their astonishment and consternation, to divest themselves of some of their outer clothes, although the thermometer stood at the time at 20° below zero; but every individual among them having on a complete double suit of deer-skin, they did not apparently suffer much in consequence. Parry’s description of their little snow village is graphic and interesting. Not a single material was used in the construction of the huts but snow and ice. The inner apartments of each were circular, with arched domes about seven or eight feet high, and arched passage-ways leading into them. The interior of these presented a very uniform appearance. The women were seated on the beds at the side of the huts, each having her little fireplace, a blubber lamp, with all her domestic arrangements and domestic chattels, including all the children and some of the dogs, about her. When first erected these huts had a neat and even comfortable appearance. How differently did they look when the village was broken up at the end of winter. Parry thus describes them:—“On going out to the village we found one-half of the people had quitted their late habitations, taking with them every article of their property, and had gone over the ice, we knew not where, in quest of more abundant food. The wretched appearance which the interior of the huts now presented baffles all description. In each of the larger ones some of the apartments [pg 175]were either wholly or in part deserted, the very snow which composed the beds and fireplaces having been turned up, that no article might be left behind. Even the bare walls, whose original colour was scarcely perceptible for lamp-black, blood, and other filth, were not left perfect, large holes having been made in sides and roofs for the convenience of handing out the goods and chattels. The sight of a deserted habitation is at all times calculated to excite in the mind a sensation of dreariness and desolation, especially when we have lately seen it filled with cheerful inhabitants; but the feeling is even heightened rather than diminished when a small portion of these inhabitants remain behind to endure the wretchedness which such a scene exhibits. This was now the case at the village, where, though the remaining tenants of each hut had combined to occupy one of the apartments, a great part of the bed-places were still bare, and the wind and drift blowing in through the holes which they had not yet taken the trouble to stop up. The old man Hikkeiera and his wife occupied a hut to themselves, without any lamp or a single ounce of meat belonging to them, while three small skins, on which the former was lying, were all that they possessed in the way of blankets. Upon the whole, I never beheld a more miserable spectacle, and it seemed a charity to hope that a violent and constant cough with which the old man was afflicted would speedily combine with his age and infirmities to release him from his present sufferings. Yet in the midst of all this he was even cheerful, nor was there a gloomy countenance to be seen in the village.”

It was not till July 2nd that the ships were enabled to move from their icy dock, and they at first starting encountered severe dangers. Captain Lyon, Parry’s associate in command, thus speaks of the situation of the Hecla:—

“The flood-tide, coming down loaded with a more than ordinary quantity of ice, pressed the ship very much between six and seven A.M., and rendered it necessary to run out the stream cable, in addition to the hawsers which were fast to the land ice. This was scarcely accomplished when a very heavy and extensive floe took the ship on her broadside, and, being backed by another large body of ice, gradually lifted her stern as if by the action of a wedge. The weight every moment increasing obliged us to veer on the hawsers, whose friction was so great as nearly to cut through the bilt-heads, and ultimately set them on fire, so that it became requisite for people to attend with buckets of water. The pressure was at length too powerful for resistance, and the stream cable, with two six and one five inch hawsers, went at the same moment. Three others soon followed. The sea was too full of ice to allow the ship to drive, and the only way by which she could yield to the enormous weight which oppressed her was by leaning over the land ice, while her stern at the same time was entirely lifted more than five feet out of the water. The lower deck beams now complained very much, and the whole frame of the ship underwent a trial which would have proved fatal to any less strengthened vessel. At this moment the rudder was unhung with a sudden jerk, which broke up the rudder-case and struck the driver-boom with great force. In this state I made known our situation by telegraph, as I clearly saw that, in the event of another floe backing the one which lifted us, the ship must inevitably turn over or part in midships. The pressure which had been so dangerous at length proved our friend, for by its increasing weight the floe on which we [pg 176]were borne burst upwards, unable to resist its force. The ship righted, and, a small slack opening in the water, drove several miles to the southward before she could be again secured to get the rudder hung; circumstances much to be regretted at the moment, as our people had been employed, with but little intermission, for three days and nights attending to the safety of the ship in this dangerous tideway.”

The Fury experienced nearly the same dangers, and for days the situation of both vessels was most precarious. Later, the ice having cleared to some extent, they were enabled to make good headway, and on July 16th they discovered a great deal of high land to the northward and eastward. This, from the inspection of a rude chart which had been constructed by an intelligent Esquimaux, was decided to be that island between which and the mainland lay a strait leading into the Polar Sea, of which they had heard much from the natives. Several land journeys were made, and one attempt at taking the ships through, but though it was abundantly determined to be a passage, they were obliged again to go into winter quarters before they had succeeded. They were not extricated till nearly one year afterwards, and then not until a broad canal, 1,100 yards in length, had been cut through the ice to the sea. The scurvy had made its appearance among the crew, and Parry, after consultation with his officers, reluctantly turned the vessels’ bows in a homeward direction.

Parry made a third voyage in 1824-5, passing his fourth winter in the Arctic regions. The same vessels were employed; and at the end of winter the Fury was so terribly damaged by the ice that she had to be abandoned. But Parry, however disappointed with the results of this voyage, once more, as we shall see hereafter, braved the perils of the Arctic; but we must first record the circumstances connected with a northern expedition which in chronological order comes properly before it.

CAPTAIN LYON AND HIS CREW OFFERING PRAYERS FOR THEIR PRESERVATION.

In 1824 Captain George F. Lyon was despatched, in the Griper, to complete surveys of north-east America, but not specially to attempt discovery. The Griper was an old tub of a vessel, utterly unfitted for its work, and it is rather of the voyage itself, as displaying the advantages of perfect naval discipline under great disadvantages, than for any other reason, this unfortunate expedition is recorded. The vessel was a bad sailer, and constantly shipped seas which threatened to sweep everything from the decks. In Sir Thomas Rowe’s Welcome—the passage between Southampton Island and the mainland—fogs and heavy seas were encountered, while no trust could be placed in the compasses, and the water was fast shallowing. Lyon was obliged to bring the vessel “up with three bowers and a stream anchor in succession,” but not before the water had shoaled to five and a half fathoms, the ship all the while pitching bows under. So perilous was their position that the boats were stored with arms, ammunition, and provisions; the officers drew lots for their respective boats, although two of the smaller ones would have inevitably been swamped the moment they were lowered. Heavy seas continued to sweep the decks, and when the fog lifted a little a low beach was discovered astern of the ship, on which the surf was running to an awful height, and where, says Lyon, “no human power could save us if driven upon it.” Immediately afterwards the ship, lifted by a tremendous sea, struck with great violence the whole length of the keel, and her total wreck was momentarily expected. In the midst of all their misery the crew remained twenty-four [pg 177]hours on the flooded decks, and Lyon himself did not leave for his berth till exhausted after three nights’ watching. Few on board expected to survive the gale. Still, every precaution was taken for the comfort of the men, who were ordered to put on their best and warmest clothing to support life as long as possible. The officers each secured some useful instrument for future work, if, indeed, the slightest hope remained. “And now,” says Lyon, “that everything in our power had been done, I called all hands aft, and to a merciful God offered prayers for our preservation. I thanked every one for their excellent conduct, and cautioned them, as we should, in all probability, soon appear before our Maker, to enter His presence as men resigned to their fate. We then all sat down in groups, and, sheltered from the wash of the sea by whatever we could find, many of us endeavoured to obtain a little sleep. Never, perhaps, was witnessed a finer scene than on the deck of my little ship, when all hope of life had left us. Noble as the character of the British sailor is always allowed to be in cases of danger, yet I did not believe it to be possible that among forty-one persons not one repining word should have been uttered. The officers sat about wherever they could find shelter from the sea, and the men lay down, conversing with each other with the most perfect calmness. Each was at peace with his neighbour and all the world; and I am firmly persuaded that the resignation which was then shown to the will of the Almighty was the means of obtaining [pg 178]His mercy. God was merciful to us; and the tide almost miraculously fell no lower.” They were spared, and on the weather clearing discovered that they were about the centre of the Welcome. The spot where they had been in such imminent danger was named appropriately the Bay of God’s Mercy.

In the middle of September, when off the mouth of the Wager River, a gale arose, and the sluggish Griper made no progress, but “remained actually pitching forecastle under, with scarcely steerage way.” The ship was brought up, and the anchors fortunately held. Thick-falling sleet covered the decks to some inches in depth, and withal the spray froze as it fell. The night was pitchy dark; several streams of drift ice came driving down upon the ship. Lyon says that it was not possible to stand below decks, while on deck ropes had to be stretched from side to side for the men to hold by. Great seas washed over them every minute, and the temporary warmth this gave them was most painfully checked by the water immediately freezing on their clothes. At dawn on the 13th their best bower anchor parted, and later all the cables gave way. The ship was lying on her broadside. Nevertheless, each man stood to his station, and in the end seamanship triumphed; the crippled ship was brought safely to England. The cool, unflinching courage of the men and the undisturbed conduct of the officers were matters for highest praise. The royal navy could not be proud of the Griper, but could, most assuredly, of the Griper’s crew.

CHAPTER XIX.

Parry’s Boat and Sledge Expedition.

Parry’s Attempt at the Pole—Hecla Cove—Boat and Sledge Expedition—Mode of Travelling—Their Camps—Laborious Efforts—Broken Ice—Midnight Dinners and Afternoon Breakfasts—Labours of Sisyphus—Drifting Ice—Highest Latitude Reached—Return Trip to the Ship—Parry’s Subsequent Career—Wrangell’s Ice Journeys.

Undaunted by the comparative failure of his last voyage, we find Parry in 1826 proposing an attempt to reach the North Pole with sledge-boats over the ice. The reports of several navigators who had visited Spitzbergen agreed in one point—that the ice to the northward was of a nature favourable to such a project. In the two narratives descriptive of Captain Phipps’s expedition in 1773 the ice was mentioned as “flat and unbroken,” “one continued plain,” and so forth. Scoresby the younger, speaking of the ice in the same region, stated that he once saw a field so free from fissure or hummock that he imagined, “had it been free from snow, a coach might have been driven many leagues over it in a direct line without obstruction or danger.” Franklin had previously mooted a very similar proposition to that now made by Parry, and his plans were followed in many essential particulars when the sanction of the Admiralty had been given to the attempt. Two twenty-feet boats were specially constructed, nearly resembling what were called “troop-boats,” having great flatness of floor, with an even width almost to bows and stern. They were provided with strong “runners,” shod with steel in the manner of a sledge, and their construction generally was such as to combine lightness with strength. A bamboo mast, a large sail—answering also for an awning—fourteen paddles, a steer-oar, and a boat-hook, formed an essential part of the equipment of each.

The Hecla left the Nore April 4th, 1827, on this her fourth Arctic voyage; and the [pg 179]expedition reached Hammerfest April 19th, where eight reindeer[32] were taken on board, with a supply of moss for their provender. A number of snow-shoes and “kamoogas” (leather shoes, intended to be worn with the former) were also obtained. On May 14th the Hecla reached Hakluyt’s Headland, where a severe gale was encountered, which almost laid the ship on her beam-ends, and her canvas had to be reduced to her maintop-sail and storm-sails. Shortly afterwards the vessel was driven into a most perilous position, almost on to the packed ice. It was deemed advisable to try the dangerous and almost last resort of running the ship into the pack, and a tolerably open part of the margin having been found, the ship was forced into it under all sail. The plan succeeded, and the Hecla was soon in a secure situation half a mile inside the ice-field, with which she drifted vaguely about for many days. It was not till June 18th that a secure harbour for the vessel was found on the northern Spitzbergen coast, which was named accordingly Hecla Cove.

Having made all necessary arrangements for the safety of the vessel, Parry left the station on June 21st with the two boats, which were named the Enterprise and the Endeavour, Lieutenant (afterwards Sir) James Clarke Ross having command of the second. Lieutenant Crozier accompanied the boats to Low and Walden Islands, where depôts of provisions were made. Provisions for seventy-one days were taken, which, including the boats and all necessary gear, made up a weight of 260 lbs. per man. Four officers and twenty-four men constituted the party. The boats made good progress until stopped by the ice at noon on the 24th, when they were hauled upon a small floe, the latitude by observation being 81° 12′ 51″. The plan of travelling on the ice was much as follows: Night—if the term can be used at all in connection with the long Arctic summer day—was selected for travelling, partly because the snow was harder, and they also avoided the glare on its surface produced by the rays of the sun at its greatest altitude, which is the immediate cause of snow blindness. Greater warmth was enjoyed during the hours of rest, and it also gave them a better chance of drying their clothes. “This travelling by night and sleeping by day,” says Parry, “so completely inverted the natural order of things that it was difficult to persuade ourselves of the reality. Even the officers and myself, who were all furnished with pocket chronometers, could not always bear in mind at what part of the twenty-four hours we had arrived; and there were several of the men who declared—and I believe truly—that they never knew night from day during the whole excursion.” The day was always commenced by prayers, after which they took off their fur sleeping-dresses, and put on those for travelling. Breakfast was rather a light meal, consisting only of warm cocoa and biscuit. After stowing the boats, &c., so as to secure them from wet, they usually travelled five to five and a half hours, halted an hour for dinner, and then again travelled four, five, or even six hours. After this they halted for the “night,”—usually early in the morning—selecting the largest surface of ice in the vicinity for hauling the boats on, in order to lessen the danger of collision with other masses or from its breaking up. The boats were placed [pg 180]close alongside each other, and the sails, supported by the bamboo masts and three paddles, formed awnings over them. Supper over, the officers and men smoked their pipes, usually raising the temperature of their lodging 10° or 15°; the men told their stories and “fought all their battles o’er again, and the labours of the day, unsuccessful as they too often were, were forgotten.” The day was concluded with prayer, after which they retired for the night, a watch being set for bears or for the breaking up of the ice. The cook roused them with a bugle call after seven hours’ rest, and the work of the day commenced as before. The dietary scale seems to have been very light for such hard work in that severe climate—ten ounces of biscuit, nine ounces of pemmican, and one ounce of sweetened cocoa-powder, with one gill of rum per day each man. The fuel used consisted exclusively of spirits of wine, the cocoa, or pemmican soup, being cooked in an iron pot over a shallow lamp with seven wicks.

THE EDGE OF THE PACK.

The journey commenced with very slow and laborious travelling, the pieces of ice at the margin of the pack being of small extent and very rugged. This obliged them to make three, and sometimes four, journeys with the boats and baggage, and to launch frequently over narrow pools of water. In other words, in making a distance of two miles they had to travel six or eight, and their progress was very tedious. Fog and [pg 181]rain hindered them somewhat, while the condition of much of the ice over which they passed rendered their journey very fatiguing. Much of it “presented a very curious appearance and structure, being composed, on its upper surface, of numberless irregular, needle-like crystals, placed vertically and nearly close together, their length varying, in different pieces of ice, from five to ten inches.” A vertical section of it resembled satin-spar and asbestos when falling to pieces. This kind of ice affords pretty firm footing early in the season, but as the summer advances the needles become loose and movable, rendering progress very difficult, besides cutting into the boots and feet. The men called these ice-spikes “pen-knives.” This peculiar formation of ice Parry attributed to the infiltration of rain-water from above. The water was standing in pools on the ice, and they had often to wade through it. On the 28th the party arrived at a floe covered with high and rugged hummocks in successive tiers, and the boats had to be dragged up and down places which were almost perpendicular. While performing this laborious work, one of the men was nearly crushed by a boat falling upon him from one of the hummocks. As an example of the harassing nature of this service, we find them on the 29th, in making a mile of northing by a circuitous route among the ice-masses and open pools, travelling and re-travelling about ten miles in order to keep the party and supplies together. They tried for soundings, and found no bottom at two hundred fathoms (1,200 feet); later, a four hundred fathom line gave no bottom. On the 30th snowy and inclement weather rendered the atmosphere so thick that they were obliged to halt; later in the same day they made five miles by rowing in a very winding channel.

“As soon,” says Parry, “as we landed on a floe-piece, Lieutenant Ross and myself generally went on ahead, while the boats were unloading and hauling up, in order to select the easiest road for them. The sledges then followed in our track, Messrs. Beverly and Bird accompanying them, by which the snow was much trodden down, and the road thus improved for the boats. As soon as we arrived at the other end of the floe, or came to any difficult place, we mounted one of the highest hummocks of ice near at hand (many of which were from fifteen to five-and-twenty feet above the sea), in order to obtain a better view around us; and nothing could well exceed the dreariness which such a view presented. The eye wearied itself in vain to find an object but ice and sky to rest upon; and even the latter was often hidden from our view by the dense and dismal fogs which so generally prevailed. For want of variety, the most trifling circumstances engaged a more than ordinary share of our attention—a passing gull or a mass of ice of unusual form became objects which our situation and circumstances magnified into ridiculous importance; and we have since often smiled to remember the eager interest with which we regarded many insignificant occurrences. It may well be imagined, then, how cheering it was to turn from this scene of inanimate desolation to our two little boats in the distance, to see the moving figures of our men winding among the hummocks, and to hear once more the sound of human voices breaking the stillness of this icy wilderness. In some cases Lieutenant Ross and myself took separate routes to try the ground, which kept us almost continually floundering among deep snow and water.” The soft snow encountered was a great hindrance; on [pg 182]one occasion it took the party two hours to make a distance of 150 yards! They had been deviating from their night travelling, and were otherwise feeling the effects of it in that inflammation of the eyes which ends in snow-blindness. The night travelling was therefore resumed. On July 3rd their way at first lay across a number of small loose pieces of ice, most of which were from five to twenty yards apart, or just sufficiently separated to give them all the trouble of launching and hauling up the boats without the advantage of making any progress by water. Sometimes the boats were used as a kind of bridge, by which the men crossed from one mass to another. By this means they at length reached a floe about a mile in length, on which the snow lay to the depth of five inches or so, under which, again, there was about the same depth of water. Parry says that snow-shoes would not have been of the least service, as the surface was so irregular that the men would have been thrown down at every other step. Among the hummocks noted at this time were smooth, regular cones of ice, “resembling in shape the aromatic pastiles sold by chemists; this roundness and regularity of form indicate age, all the more recent ones being sharp and angular.”

Day after day they laboured on, with little variation in the circumstances detailed above. The men worked with great cheerfulness and goodwill, “being animated with the hope of soon reaching the more continuous body which had been considered as composing the ‘main ice’ to the northward of Spitzbergen,” which Captain Lutwidge had described as “one continued plain of smooth, unbroken ice, bounded only by the horizon.”[33] They certainly deserved to reach it, if it existed at all; but it is more than probable that this apparently continuous level, mentioned by several navigators, had been seen from an elevation, the “crow’s nest” on board ship, or some hill ashore, and that a nearer inspection would have shown it to be full of hummocks and breaks.

It is amusing to read of them breakfasting at five p.m., dining at midnight, and taking supper at six or seven o’clock in the morning! On July 11th, having halted an hour at midnight for dinner, they were again harassed by a heavy rainfall, but although drenched to the skin they made better progress soon after, traversing twelve miles, and making seven and a half in a northerly direction. They had now reached the latitude of 82° 11′ 51″. Next day’s exertions only enabled them to make three and a half miles of direct northing, and the following day but two and a half. Much thin ice was encountered; it was often a nervous thing to see their whole means of subsistence lying on a decayed sheet, with holes quite through it, and which would have broken up with the slightest motion among the surrounding masses. One day the ice on one side of a boat, heavy with provisions and stores, gave way, almost upsetting her; a number of the men jumped upon the ice and restored the balance temporarily. A rain-storm of twenty-one hours’ duration is recorded on the 14th and 15th, which was, as generally the case, succeeded by a thick wet fog. On the 16th the narrative records “the unusual comfort of putting on dry stockings, and the no less rare luxury of delightfully pleasant weather.” It was so warm in the sun that the tar exuded from the seams of the boats. Even the sea-water, though loaded with ice, had a temperature of 34°. At this time the ice-floes were larger, [pg 183]though none are recorded over three miles in length. On the 18th, after eleven hours’ actual labour, “requiring, for the most part,” says Parry, “our whole strength to be exerted, we had travelled over a space not exceeding four miles, of which only two were made good in a NNW. direction.” The men, exhausted by their day’s work, were treated to a little extra hot cocoa. They were also put into good spirits by having killed a small seal, which next night gave them an excellent supper. “The meat of these young animals is tender,” says Parry, “and free from oiliness; but it certainly has a smell and a look which would not have been agreeable to any but very hungry people like ourselves.” They utilised its blubber for fuel, after the Esquimaux manner. Some few birds—rotges, dovekies, looms, mollemucks, and ivory and Ross gulls—were very occasionally seen and shot; and one day a couple of small flies were found upon the ice, which to them was an event of ridiculous importance, and as so is recorded in the narrative. This at least gives an insight into the terrible monotony of their existence at this period.

Hitherto they had been favoured by the wind, but on the 19th a northerly breeze set in, which, while it was the means of opening several lanes of water, counterbalanced this advantage by drifting the ice—and, by consequence, the party on it—in a southerly direction. Great was their mortification at noon on the 20th to find by observation that since the same hour on the 17th they had only advanced five miles in a northerly direction. Although they had apparently made good progress in the intervening time, their efforts had been nullified by the ice drifting southward. These facts were carefully concealed from the men. On the 21st the floe broke under the weight of the boats and sledges; some of the men went completely through, and one of them was only held up by his drag-belt being attached to a sledge which happened to be on firmer ice. This day they made nearly seven miles by travelling, and drifted back four and a half; or, in other words, their observation of the latitude showed them to have, in reality, advanced only two miles and a quarter. Under these circumstances we can understand their anxiety when, after a calm of short duration, fog-banks were observed rising both to the southward and north. Which would prevail? That from the south came first, with a light air from that quarter, but soon after the weather became perfectly calm and clear. Next night they made the best travelling during the expedition. The floes were large and tolerably level, and some good lanes of water occurring, they believed that they must have advanced ten or eleven miles in a NNE. direction, having traversed a distance of about seventeen. They had done so—on the ice; but the ice itself had drifted so much to the southward that they found, to their great disappointment and disgust, by observation of the latitude, that they had only made four miles. Still worse was it on the 26th, when they found themselves in latitude 82° 40′ 23″; since their last observation on the 22nd they had, though travelling almost incessantly, lost by drift no less than thirteen miles and a half, and were more than three miles to the southward of their earlier position. The men unsuspiciously remarked that they “were a long time getting to this 83°!” ignorant of the fact that the current was now taking them faster south than all their labours advanced them north. Unlike Sisyphus, they were but exerting an honourable ambition, but like him they were rolling a stone up-hill which constantly rolled back again. The eighty-third parallel had been for some time past the limit of Parry’s ambition, but although he never reached it, [pg 184]he had the proud satisfaction of having hoisted the British flag in a higher latitude than ever attained before. Markham has since beaten him. Parry reached 82° 45′, and in reaching it the party had, in the necessarily circuitous course taken, and counting the constant retracing of their steps, travelled a distance nearly sufficient to have reached the North Pole itself in a direct line.

It became evident that the nature and drift of the ice were such as to preclude the possibility of a final success greater than that recorded. They had now been absent from the ship thirty-five days, and one-half their supplies were exhausted. Parry therefore determined to give the party a day’s rest, and then set out on the return. He says:—“Dreary and cheerless as were the scenes we were about to leave, we never turned homewards with so little satisfaction as on this occasion.” Still, the southern current was now an advantage, and they knew that every mile would tell. The return was made successfully and without any very serious casualties. Lieutenant Ross shot a fat she-bear which had approached within twenty yards. Before the animal had done biting the snow, one of the men was alongside of her with an open knife, cutting out the heart and liver for the pot which happened to be then boiling their supper. Hardly had the bear been dead an hour when all hands were employed in discussing its merits as a viand, and some of them very much over-gorged themselves, and were ill in consequence, though they “attributed this effect to the quality, and not the quantity, of meat they had eaten.” On the morning of August 11th the first sound of the ocean swell was heard under the hollow margins of the ice, and they soon reached the open sea, which was dashing with heavy surges against the outer masses. Sailing and paddling, fifty miles further brought them to Table Island, where they found that bears had devoured all the bread left at the depôt, as arranged at the commencement of their voyage. The men naïvely remarked, says Parry, that “Bruin was only square with us.” From a document deposited there during his absence, he learned that on July 7th the Hecla had been forced on shore by the ice breaking up, but that she had been hove off safely. Taking advantage of a favourable breeze, they steered their boats for Walden Island, but en route had bad weather, reaching it completely drenched and worn-out, having had no rest for fifty-six hours. They had barely strength to haul the boats ashore above the surf; but a hot supper, a blazing fire of drift-wood, and a few hours’ quiet rest soon restored them. The party arrived at the ship on August 21st, having been absent sixty-one days. Allowing for the number of times they had to return for their baggage during most of the journeys on the ice, Parry estimated their actual travelling at eleven hundred and twenty-seven statute miles; and as they were constantly exposed to wet, cold, and fatigue, as well as to considerable peril, it was matter for thankfulness that all of the party returned in excellent health, two only requiring some little medical care for trifling ailments.

The future career of Parry was of a very different nature. After being knighted, and fêted by the people of England, in the spring of 1829 he was appointed Commissioner of the Australian Agricultural Company in New South Wales; and one who visited the country a few years later wrote:—“At Port Stephens Sir Edward Parry found a wilderness, but left a land of hope and promise.” Returning to England in 1835, he was appointed Assistant Commissioner of Poor Law in the county of Norfolk, but [pg 185]after a year and a half was forced to resign through ill-health. He was afterwards made Comptroller of Steam Machinery to the Admiralty, a post which he held for nearly nine years, during which time the duties of his office became every day more arduous; and in December, 1846, he received the appointment to the post of Captain Superintendent of the Royal Clarence Yard and of the Naval Hospital at Haslar. He took a prominent part in the founding of a sailors’ home at Portsmouth; and in 1852 had to resign his post at Haslar in consequence of attaining his rear-admiral’s flag. At the close of the following year he was made Governor of Greenwich Hospital, and died on the 8th of July, 1855, at Ems. His remains were brought to England and buried in the mausoleum at Greenwich Hospital.

Parry’s Polar journey can hardly be dismissed without some reference to the remarkable expeditions made by Wrangell, the great Russian explorer. Between 1820 and 1823 inclusive he made four expeditions on the ice northward from the Siberian coast, starting from the town or settlement of Nijni Kolymsk, on the Kolyma River. These excursions were made with dog sledges, and the condition of the ice must therefore have been much superior to that encountered by Parry, who found that the [pg 186]reindeers he had intended for the same purpose could not be employed at all. The provisions taken by Wrangell were rye-biscuit, meat, and portable soup; smoked fish; the great Russian speciality, tea; spirits; and tobacco. A conical tent of reindeer skin, inside of which a fire was lighted, was part of the outfit. He proceeded on one occasion 140 miles, and on another 170 miles, from the land to the margin of the open sea, having often to cross ridges of broken and hummocky ice sometimes eighty and ninety feet above the general level. At the edge of the frozen field the ice was found to be rotten and unsafe; and on his last journey, when the ice on which he travelled was broken up by a gale while he was seventy miles from land, nothing but the swiftness of his dogs, who tore over the opening gaps, saved him from destruction. A very thankful man was Wrangell when he reached terra firma once more.

CHAPTER XX.

The Magnetic Pole.—A Land Journey to the Polar Sea.

Sir John Ross and the Victory—First Steam Vessel employed in the Arctic—Discovery of the Magnetic Pole—The British Flag waving over it—Franklin and Richardson’s Journeys to the Polar Sea—The Coppermine River—Sea Voyage in Birch-bark Canoes—Return Journey—Terrible Sufferings—Starvation and Utter Exhaustion—Deaths by the Way—A Brave Feat—Relieved at length—Journey to the Mouth of the Mackenzie—Fracas with the Esquimaux—Peace Restored.

Immediately after the return of Parry’s expedition in 1827, Sir John Ross submitted to the Admiralty the plans for the voyage of which we are about to speak. Hitherto all voyages of discovery in the Arctic seas had been made in sailing vessels. Ross deserves the credit of having been the first to urge the employment of a steam-ship in that service. His proposals were not accepted, and he therefore laid the scheme before a wealthy friend, Mr. Sheriff Booth. At that time the Parliamentary reward of £20,000 was still outstanding to the discoverer of a north-west passage, and Mr. Booth declined to embark “in what might be deemed by others a mere mercantile speculation.” Not long afterwards, the Government reward being withdrawn, Mr. Booth immediately empowered Ross to provide, at his own private expense, all that was necessary for the expedition. A paddle-wheel steamer, the Victory, was purchased. The vessel was strengthened and many other improvements made. She was provisioned for a thousand days, and was to have been accompanied for some distance by a store-ship. The men on the latter mutinied at Loch Ryan, and the larger part of them immediately left the ship, which, to make a long story short, never proceeded on this voyage. Misfortune befell the Victory; her engines proved a total failure, and at the commencement of the voyage were the cause of much anxiety and worry to the commander. It must be remembered that sea-going steamers were then of very recent introduction, while long ocean voyages in steam-ships were almost unthought of. Symington’s first river steamer had indeed made her first trip on the Clyde as early as 1788, but the earliest sea-going steamboat of which we have record did not make a trip till 1815. The voyage was only from Glasgow to London. As we have seen, an American steamer crossed [pg 187]the Atlantic Ocean to Liverpool in 1819; but it was not till 1838, when the Great Western and Sirius crossed the Atlantic, that this great steamship route was really opened. Ross was therefore very early in the field, and should be regarded as a man of penetration for his epoch. Nowadays, as we all know, vessels with at least auxiliary, if not complete steam power, are nearly always employed in Government expeditions, and even by whalers in the Arctic seas.

The expedition left England May 23rd, 1829, and arrived home again on October 18th, 1833, having thus been absent for the lengthened period of four years and five months. The coast surveys made by Ross of King William’s Land and Boothia Felix (named after the munificent merchant who had so liberally provided the expedition) were careful, and doubtless accurate, but not very extensive. The most interesting feature of all was the determination of the exact locality of the Magnetic Pole, which was accomplished by the nephew of Sir John Ross (later Sir James Ross) on June 1st, 1831.

Before leaving the vessel it was perfectly understood that they were in the immediate vicinity of the Magnetic Pole; and, indeed, it was afterwards proved that Commander Ross had been, in a preceding land journey in 1830, within ten miles of the spot, but had been unprovided with the necessary instruments to determine that fact. The weather on the trip was tempestuous and blustering, but no special disaster occurred, and on the morning of May 31st they found themselves within fourteen miles of the calculated position. Leaving behind the larger part of their baggage and provisions on the beach, the party hurried forward in a state of excitement pardonable under the circumstances. At eight o’clock the next morning their journey was at an end, and never, doubtless, were exhausted men more thoroughly happy. It will interest the reader to learn how the Magnetic Pole looks.

“The land,” wrote Ross the younger, “at this place is very low near the coast, but it rises into ridges of fifty or sixty feet high about a mile inland. We could have wished that a place so important had possessed more of mark or note. It was scarcely censurable to regret that there was not a mountain to indicate a spot to which so much of interest must ever be attached; and I could even have pardoned any one among us who had been so romantic or absurd as to expect that the Magnetic Pole was an object as conspicuous and mysterious as the fabled mountain of Sinbad, that it was even a mountain of iron, or a magnet as large as Mont Blanc. But Nature had here erected no monument to denote the spot which she had chosen as the centre of one of her great and dark powers, and where we could do little ourselves toward this end.... We were, however, fortunate in here finding some huts of Esquimaux that had not long been abandoned.” A series of scientific observations were at once made, the most conspicuous results of which were as follows:—At their observatory the amount of the dip, as indicated by the dipping-needle, was 89° 59′, being thus within one minute of the vertical, while the proximity of the Magnetic Pole was confirmed by the absolute inaction of the several horizontal needles. “These were suspended in the most delicate manner possible, but there was not one which showed the slightest effort to move from the position in which it was placed.” In other words, the magnetic force was dead in that very spot to which millions of compasses are ever pointing.

The British flag was fixed on the spot, and the discoverers took possession of the Magnetic Pole in the name of Great Britain and King William IV. A limestone cairn was erected, in which a canister containing the record of the visit of Ross and his companions was deposited. Ross says that “had it been a pyramid as large as that of Cheops, I am not quite sure that it would have done more than satisfy our ambition under the feelings of that exciting day. The latitude of this spot is 70° 5′ 17″, and its [pg 189]longitude 96° 46′ 45″ W.” On the return journey to the ship they encountered blinding snow-storms, but eventually reached it in safety, after an absence of twenty-eight days.

DR. (AFTERWARDS SIR) JOHN RICHARDSON.

FORT ENTERPRISE.

RICHARDSON’S ADVENTURE WITH WHITE WOLVES.

In 1819-22 Franklin made a most remarkable and perilous land and river journey to the shores of the Polar Sea, which will be only briefly noticed here for obvious reasons. The party consisted of Franklin, Dr. Richardson, Back, Hood, and a sailor named Hepburn, who is very highly commended in the narrative. They left England [pg 190]May 22nd, 1819, and reached York Factory, Hudson’s Bay, at the end of August. Thence they proceeded to Cumberland House, whence Franklin, Back, and Hepburn, travelled to Carlton House and Chipewyan, a winter journey of 857 miles; the others followed, and a number of voyageurs were engaged. In the spring they again started, reaching Fort Providence on July 28th, 1820, from which place they proceeded to a point situated by Winter Lake, where they determined to erect a house and pass the winter. The house, or post, was named Fort Enterprise. Back and others travelled backwards and forwards this winter 1,104 miles in order to fetch up a sufficient quantity of provisions for their next summer’s work, and suffered severely from the intense cold and from something like starvation on many occasions. The last day of June, 1821, the party reached and embarked upon the Coppermine River, and eighteen days later reached the sea-coast, about 317 miles from their last winter quarters. The canoes and baggage had been dragged over snow and ice for 117 miles of this distance, and they had successfully passed many rapids. They were now in the country of the Esquimaux, and exposed to fresh anxieties from the unfriendly feeling which existed between them and the Indians. Dr. Richardson, one night, whilst on the first watch, had seated himself on a hill overhanging the river; his thoughts were possibly engaged with far distant scenes, when he was roused by an indistinct noise behind him, and, on looking round, perceived that nine white wolves had ranged themselves in the form of a crescent, and were advancing, apparently with the intention of driving him into the river. On his rising up they halted, and when he advanced, they made way for his passage down to the tents. He had his gun in his hand, but forbore to fire, lest he should alarm any Esquimaux who might possibly be in the neighbourhood. The Canadian voyageurs were delighted with their first view of the sea, and amused at the sight of the seals gambolling and swimming about, but were not unnaturally terrified at the idea of the voyage, through an icy sea, now proposed by Franklin. On July 21st, with only fifteen days’ provisions on board, they commenced an eastward trip of 550 miles, which is little less than the direct distance between the Coppermine River and Repulse Bay, which Franklin had at one time fondly hoped to reach. Storms arose; their canoes were badly shattered and their provisions nearly exhausted, and at a position now marked on the map as Point Turnagain they desisted from further attempts. He determined to steer westward at once for Arctic Sound, and by Hood’s River attempt to reach their old quarters at Fort Enterprise. They had a somewhat chilling prospect before them, for as early as August 20th the pools were frozen over, snow on the ground, and the thermometer down to freezing point at noon. The hunters were unsuccessful, and they made “a scanty meal off a handful of pemmican, after which only half a bag remained.” Bad as were the canoes, and worse as was the weather, they managed to paddle along bravely till, on the 26th, they reached Hood’s River. “Here,” says Franklin, “terminated our voyage on the Arctic Sea, during which we had gone over 650 geographical miles.” “Our Canadian voyagers,” Franklin mentions, “could not restrain their joy at having turned their backs on the sea, and they spent the evening in talking over their past adventures with much humour and no little exaggeration. It is due to their character to mention that they displayed much courage in encountering the dangers of the sea, magnified to them by their novelty.” They proceeded a few miles up the river, and then encamped.

Two small canoes having been constructed from the remains of the older and now almost useless ones, they, on the 1st of September, left the river, the commander having determined to make a direct line for Point Lake, 149 miles distant. Having proceeded a dozen or so miles, they encountered a severe snow-storm, which obliged them to encamp, and it raged so violently that they were obliged to stop there, muffled up in their blankets and skins, for nearly a week. On the 3rd of September the last piece of pemmican and a small quantity of arrowroot were served out, and with no fire, a temperature below freezing, and wet garments, they were in a miserable plight. The storm abated on the 7th, but when they attempted to proceed Franklin was seized with a fainting fit, in consequence of sudden exposure and exhaustion. Several of the men, with much kindness, urged him to eat a morsel of portable soup, the small and only remaining meal, which, after much hesitation, he did, and was much revived. The canoe-carriers were so weak that they were constantly blown down, and one of their little boats was crushed to pieces by a fall. They utilised it by making a fire to cook the remnant of portable soup and arrowroot—their last meal. For the next two days they had to live on the lichen named by the Canadians tripe de roche, but on the 10th they killed a large musk ox—which, by-the-bye, was a cow—and they enjoyed a good meal. Soon again all supplies failed them, and a fatal despondency settled upon many of the men, who, giving up all hope, left behind articles of incalculable value to the expedition, including the second canoe and their fishing-nets. It must be remembered that they were passing over a most rugged country, where they had constantly to cross streams and rivers, and were living mainly on a scanty supply of tripe de roche. At this depressing moment a fine trait of disinterestedness occurred. As the officers stood together round a small fire, enduring the very intensity of hunger, Perrault, one of the Canadians, presented each of them with a piece of meat out of a little store which he had saved from his allowance. “It was received,” says Franklin, “with great thankfulness, and such an instance of self-denial and kindness filled our eyes with tears.” Back, the most active and vigorous of the party, was sent forward with some of the hunters to apprise the people at Fort Enterprise of the approach of the rest. Credit and Junius followed them, also to hunt. Credit returned, but Junius was missing and was never after heard of. They had now reached a branch of the Coppermine River, and it became necessary to make a raft of willows, which occupied them to the 29th. Then all attempts to cross the river in it failed.

PERRAULT DIVIDING HIS LITTLE STORE.

“In this hopeless condition,” says Franklin, “with certain starvation staring them in the face, Dr. Richardson, actuated by the noble desire of making a last effort for the safety of the party, and of relieving his suffering companions from a state of misery which could only terminate, and that speedily, in death, volunteered to make the attempt to swim across the stream, carrying with him a line by which the raft might be hauled over.

“He launched into the stream with the line round his middle, but when he had got to a short distance from the opposite bank his arms became benumbed with cold, and he lost the power of moving them; still he persevered, and turning on his back, had nearly gained the opposite shore, when his legs also became powerless, and to our infinite alarm we beheld him sink; we instantly hauled upon the line, and he came [pg 192]again on the surface, and was gradually drawn ashore in an almost lifeless state. Being rolled up in blankets, he was placed before a good fire of willows, and fortunately was just able to speak sufficiently to give some slight directions respecting the manner of treating him. He recovered strength gradually, and through the blessing of God was enabled in the course of a few hours to converse, and by the evening was sufficiently recovered to remove into the tent. We then regretted to learn that the skin of [pg 193]his whole left side was deprived of feeling, in consequence of exposure to too great heat. He did not perfectly recover the sensation of that side until the following summer. I cannot describe what every one felt at beholding the skeleton which the doctor’s debilitated frame exhibited when he stripped; the Canadians simultaneously exclaimed, ‘Ah! que nous sommes maigres!’ I shall best explain his state and that of the party by the following extract from his journal:—

“ ‘It may be worthy of remark that I should have had little hesitation in any former period of my life at plunging into water even below 38° Fahrenheit; but at this time I was reduced almost to skin and bone, and, like the rest of the party, suffered from degrees of cold that would have been disregarded in health and vigour. During the whole of our march we experienced that no quantity of clothing would keep us warm whilst we fasted; but on those occasions on which we were enabled to go to bed with full stomachs we passed the night in a warm and comfortable manner.’ ” Franklin adds:—“In following the detail of our friend’s narrow escape, I have omitted to mention that when he was about to step into the water he put his foot on a dagger, which cut him to the bone; but this misfortune could not stop him from attempting the execution of his generous undertaking.”

But although they had crossed the river they had much before them, and a fearful amount of despondency prevailed. Franklin wishing one day to reach one of his men three-quarters of a mile distant, spent three hours in a vain attempt to wade through the snow. Hood was reduced to a perfect skeleton, Richardson was lame as well as exhausted, and even Back, the energetic and unconquerable, had to use a stick. The voyageurs were somewhat stronger, but seem to have given up all hope; Hepburn alone seems to have remained cheerful and resigned, and he was indefatigable in collecting tripe de roche. On October 4th it was determined that Franklin, with eight of his party, should push forward, and endeavour to send back assistance. Four of these broke down almost immediately, and endeavoured to return to the last camp; only one arrived; the other three were no more heard of. Franklin succeeded in reaching Fort Enterprise, where they found neither inhabitants nor supplies. On the way they had literally eaten a part of their boots, and at the house were only too glad to boil bones and pieces of skin for their sustenance. It is almost impossible to give the reader in few words a fair idea of the terrible condition in which they were. Franklin determined to push forward to the next fort, but found that he had made but four miles in the first six hours’ travel, and he, therefore, reluctantly returned to the house, letting two of the Canadians proceed. Eighteen days elapsed, and then Dr. Richardson and Hepburn arrived. Mr. Hood had, meantime, been shot by Michel, one of their Indians, who it was believed had also been the murderer of the three exhausted men who had been missing. He had remained in strong and vigorous condition when the rest were utterly exhausted. Dr. Richardson, being thoroughly convinced of these facts, killed Michel with a pistol-shot shortly afterwards. “The emaciated countenances of the doctor and Hepburn” gave evidence of their debilitated state. “The doctor,” says Franklin, “particularly remarked the sepulchral tones of our voices, which he requested of us to make more cheerful, if possible, unconscious that his own partook of the same key.” Hepburn had shot a [pg 194]partridge on the way, and the sixth part of this was the first morsel of flesh Franklin and his three companions had tasted for thirty-one days. At length the long-expected relief from Back arrived by three Indians, but not till two of the Canadians had succumbed. Back himself, in spite of his splendid constitution, had suffered privations hardly second to those recorded above. But from this period no great difficulties were encountered on the return to Fort York, and Franklin and his brave companions, poor Hood excepted, eventually reached England in safety.

Many would have been content to rest on their laurels; not so Franklin, Richardson, or Back, who almost immediately afterwards volunteered to again dare the perils of these same regions. The “second expedition to the shores of the Polar Sea” was not marked by those disasters which had befallen the previous one, but was none the less remarkable and daring. It was, however, much better provided. Three light boats were built at Woolwich specially for this expedition, and a fourth, covered with india-rubber canvas, called the Walnut Shell, was taken for the purpose of crossing rivers and for easy transportation.

Passing over all previous matters, suffice it to say that Franklin and his party successfully reached the mouth of the great Mackenzie River, where, on Garry Island, says Franklin’s narrative, “the men had pitched the tent on the beach, and I caused the silk union flag to be hoisted which my deeply-lamented wife[34] had made and presented to me as a parting gift, under the express injunction that it was not to be unfurled before the expedition reached the 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 it was my duty to suppress them, and that I had no right, by an 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.

“Some spirits which had been saved for the occasion were issued to the men, and with three fervent cheers they drank to the health of our beloved monarch and to the continued success of our enterprise. Mr. Kendall and I had also reserved a little of our brandy in order to celebrate this interesting event; but Baptisto, in his delight at beholding the sea, had set before us some salt water, which, having been mixed with the brandy before the mistake was discovered, we were reluctantly obliged to forego the intended draught, and to use it in the more classical form of a libation poured on the ground.”

Severe weather compelled them to return up the river to their station at Fort Franklin on this occasion, but they returned to the mouth of the Mackenzie in the following season, where they nearly had a serious difficulty with the natives. Franklin had been ashore, and had noted on one of the islands a number of tents, with Esquimaux strolling about. He hastened back to the boats to prepare presents for them. Some seventy-three canoes and five large skin boats were soon seen approaching, with perhaps three hundred persons on board. They speedily showed a great desire to trade. Augustus, the inter[pg 195]preter, explained the objects of the visit, and that if they should succeed in finding a navigable channel for large ships a great trade would be opened with them. This delighted them, and they shouted with the greatest vigour. Unfortunately, just after this, “a kaiyack being overset by one of the Lion’s (the leading boat) oars, its owner was plunged into the water with his head in the mud, and apparently in danger of being drowned. We instantly extricated him from his unpleasant situation, and took him into the boat until the water could be thrown out of his kaiyack; and Augustus, seeing him shivering with cold, wrapped him up in his own great-coat. At first he was exceedingly angry, but soon became reconciled to his situation, and, looking about, discovered that we had many bales and other articles in the boat, which had been concealed from the people in the kaiyacks by the coverings being carefully spread over all. He soon began to ask for everything he saw, and expressed much displeasure on our refusing to comply with his demands. He also, we afterwards learned, excited the cupidity of others by his account of the inexhaustible riches in the Lion, and several of the younger men endeavoured to get into both our boats, but we resisted all their attempts.”

They, however, tried hard to steal everything on which they could lay hands. One of the crew noticed that the native who had been upset had stolen a pistol from Lieutenant Back, which he endeavoured to conceal under his shirt, and the thief, finding it was observed, jumped out of the boat into the shallow water, and escaped.

“Two of the most powerful men,” says Franklin, “jumping on board at the same time, seized me by the wrists, and forced me to sit between them; and as I shook them loose two or three times, a third Esquimaux took his station in front to catch my arm whenever I attempted to lift my gun or the broad dagger which hung by my side. The whole way to the shore they kept repeating the word ‘teyma’ beating gently on my left breast with their hands and pressing mine against their breasts. As we neared the beach two oomiaks, full of women, arrived, and the ‘teymas’ and vociferations were redoubled. The Reliance was first brought to the shore, and the Lion close to her a few seconds afterwards. The three men who held me now leaped ashore, and those who had remained in their canoes, taking them out of the water, carried them a little distance. A numerous party then, drawing their knives and stripping themselves to the waist, ran to the Reliance, and, having first hauled her as far up as they could, began a regular pillage, handing the articles to the women, who, ranged in a row behind, quickly conveyed them out of sight.” In short, Lieutenant Back, who had desisted from any violence up to this period, now ordered his men to level their muskets on them, but not to fire till the word of command. The effect was magical as a stage effect: in a few minutes not an Esquimaux was to be seen. They made for the shore, and hid behind the piles of drift-wood on the beach. Augustus, the interpreter, subsequently made speech to them, showing them that their conduct had been very bad, and that the “white man” could well take care of himself. “Do not deceive yourselves,” said he, “and suppose they are afraid of you. I tell you they are not, and that it is entirely owing to their humanity that many of you were not killed to-day; for they have all guns, with which they can destroy you either when near or at a distance. I also have a gun, and can assure you that if a white man had fallen I would have been the first to have revenged his death.” The language, [pg 196]of course, is Franklin’s; but these were the general sentiments expressed in their tongue. It was received with shouts of applause; and a little later they pleaded that having seen so many fine things new to them they could not resist the temptation of stealing. They promised better behaviour, and, what is more to the point, restored the articles which they had purloined. Thus, what might have proved a serious affray was prevented. The Esquimaux, like all unsophisticated natives, are, or were then, mere children, but children capable of doing much harm.

ESQUIMAUX KAIYACKS AND BOAT.

Franklin traced the coast in a westerly direction to latitude 70° 24′ N., longitude, 149° 37′ W., and discovered several large rivers. Fogs, gales, rain, and drift ice interrupted their progress, but they were enabled to examine close on 400 miles of a new coast. Dr. Richardson meantime traced the coast eastward from the Mackenzie to the Coppermine River, afterwards travelling by land and river to Fort Franklin. Thanks to the excellent arrangements made, his party endured no great privations, and this second series of journeys to the Polar Sea formed a pleasant sequel to the first, which were marked by so many disasters.

CHAPTER XXI.

VOYAGE OF THE “TERROR.”

Back’s effort to reach Repulse Bay—Nine Months in the Ice—The Terror Nipped and Crushed—A General Disruption—Extreme Peril—Increase of Pressure—Providential Delivery—Another Nip—Bow of the Ship split—Preparations for Emergencies—The Crew—An early break-up—Frozen again—A Tremendous Rush of Ice—The Day of Release.

Captain Back was in 1836 appointed to the command of an expedition to the Arctic, partly formed for purposes of survey. He was instructed to proceed to Repulse or Wager Bay, as the case might be; thence he was to take a party across the intervening land to the eastern shore of Prince Regent’s Islet. Among other explorations [pg 197]he was to examine the coast line as far as the Point Turnagain of Franklin. It is unnecessary to go into further details, as the expedition, geographically considered, was a failure. But the voyage is, nevertheless, one of the most interesting on record, and gives us a vivid picture, or series of pictures, of the dangers incurred in the Arctic seas. The now historical Terror was the vessel employed, and the expedition left England on June 14th, 1836, crossing Davis’ Straits six weeks later, where an enormous iceberg, “the perpendicular face of which was not less than 300 feet high,” was sighted. The vessel soon became entangled in the ice-floes, and this was only the forerunner of their subsequent experiences. For nine months they were wedged up with massive ice, and four months of this time were, as Back expresses it, on “an icy cradle,” lifted out of the water. On September 5th there was a calm, and the whole of the officers and men were despatched to the only open water at all near, where with axes, ice-chisels, hand-spikes, and long poles, they began the laborious process of cutting away the “sludge” that bound the broken ice together, and removing them into the clear space. In this service they were frequently obliged to fasten lines to the heavier masses and haul them out, but though slipping and tumbling about, “the light-hearted fellows pulled in unison to a cheerful song, and laughed and joked with the unreflecting merriment of schoolboys. Every now and then some luckless wight [pg 198]broke through the thin ice and plunged up to his neck; another endeavouring to remove a piece of ice by pushing against a larger mass, would set himself adrift with it, and every such adventure was followed by shouts of laughter and vociferous mirth.” These efforts at releasing the ship were only partially successful, and she was soon again surrounded by the ice. On the morning of September 20th a fresh breeze stirred up the masses. “Shortly after 9 a.m. a floe piece split in two, and the extreme violence of the pressure curled and crumbled up the windward ice in an awful manner, forcing it against the beam fully eighteen feet high. The ship creaked as it were in agony, and strong as she was must have been stove and crushed had not some of the smaller masses been forced under her bottom, and so diminished the strain by actually lifting her bow nearly two feet out of the water. In this perilous crisis steps were taken to have everything in readiness for hoisting out the barge, and, without creating unnecessary alarm, the officers and men were called on the quarter-deck, and desired, in case of emergency, to be active in the performance of their duties at the respective stations then notified to them. It was a serious moment for all, as the pressure still continued, nor could we expect much, if any, abatement until the wind changed.

THE “TERROR” NIPPED IN THE ICE.

“At noon the weather and our prospects remained the same. The barometer was falling, and the temperature was 26°-, with unceasing snow. Much ice had been sunk under her bottom, and a doubt existed whether it was not finding its way beneath the lee floe also; for the uplifted ruins, within fifty paces of the weather beam, were advancing slowly towards us like an immense wave fraught with destruction. Resistance would not, could not, have been effectual beyond a few seconds; for what of human construction could withstand the impact of an icy continent driven onward by a furious storm? In the meantime symptoms too unequivocal to be misunderstood demonstrated the intensity of the pressure. The butt-ends began to start, and the copper in which the galley apparatus was fixed became creased, sliding-doors refused to shut, and leaks found access through the bolt-heads and bull’s-eyes. On sounding the well, too, an increase of water was reported, not sufficient to excite apprehension in itself, but such as to render hourly pumping necessary. Moved by these indications, and to guard against the worst, I ordered the provisions and preserved meats, with various other necessaries, to be got up from below and stowed on deck, so as to be ready at a moment to be thrown upon the large floe alongside. To add to our anxiety night closed prematurely, when suddenly, from some unknown cause, in which, if we may so deem without presumption, the finger of Providence was manifest, the floe which threatened instant destruction turned so as in a degree to protect us against an increase of pressure, though for several hours after the same creaking and grinding sounds continued to annoy our ears. The barometer and the other instruments fell with a regularity unprecedented, yet the gale was broken, and by midnight it had abated considerably.

“Sept. 21st. There was a lateral motion in some pieces of the surrounding ice, and, after several astounding thumps under water against the bottom, the ship, which had been lifted high beyond the line of flotation, and thrown somewhat over to port, suddenly started up and almost righted. Still, however, she inclined more than [pg 199]was agreeable to port, nor was it until one mass of ponderous dimensions burst from its imprisonment below that she altogether regained her upright position. On beholding the walls of ice on either side between which she had been nipped, I was astonished at the tremendous force she had sustained.” Her mould was stamped as perfectly as in a die. Astonishment, however, soon yielded to a more grateful feeling, an admiration of the genius and mechanical skill by which the Terror had been so ably prepared for this service. There were many old Greenland seamen on board, and they were unanimously of opinion that no ship they had ever seen could have resisted such a pressure. On sounding the well she was found not to leak, though the carpenters had employment enough in caulking the seams on deck.

They had now been a month beset, and were about to attempt the cutting of a dock in the ice round the ship, when there was a general commotion, and the entire body by which they were hampered separated into single pieces, tossing into heaps, and grinding to powder whatever interrupted its course. The ship bore well up against this hurly-burly, but the situation was not improved. For several days the Terror was in a helpless condition, her stern raised seven and a half feet above its proper position, and her bows correspondingly depressed, by the pressure of huge ice-masses. Her deck was in consequence a slippery and dangerous inclined plane.

On October 1st the vessel gradually righted, and the men were kept employed in building snow-walls round the ship, and in the erection of an observatory on the floe. “Meantime,” says Back, “we were not unobservant of the habits and dispositions of the crew, hastily gathered together, and for the most part composed of people who had never before been out of a collier. Some half a dozen, indeed, had served in Greenland vessels, but the laxity which is there permitted rendered them little better than the former. A few men-of-wars-men who were also on board were worth the whole put together. The want of discipline and of attention to personal comfort was most conspicuous; and though the wholesome regulations practised in His Majesty’s service were most rigidly attended to in the Terror, yet such was the unsociability, though without any ill-will, that it was only by a steady and undeviating system pursued by the first lieutenant that they were brought at all together with the feeling of messmates. At first, though nominally in the same mess, and eating at the same table, many of them would secrete their allowance, with other unmanly and unsailor-like practices. This was another proof added to the many I had already witnessed, how greatly discipline improves the mind and manners, and how much the regular service men are to be preferred for all hazardous or difficult enterprises. Reciprocity of kindnesses, a generous and self-denying disposition, a spirit of frankness, a hearty and above-board manner—these are the true characteristics of the British seaman, and the want of these is seldom compensated by other qualities. In our case—and I mention this merely to show the difference of olden and modern times—there were only three or four in the ship who could not write. All read, some recited whole pages of poetry, others sang French songs. Yet, with all this, had they been left to themselves I verily believe a more unsociable, suspicious, and uncomfortable set of people could not have been found. Oh, if the two are incompatible, give me the old Jack Tar, who would stand out for his [pg 200]ship, and give his life for his messmates.” Back, in common with so many Arctic commanders before and since, saw the necessity of occupying and amusing his men; and on the 22nd October a general masquerade was held on board, which gave rise to much hilarity and fun. Later, theatrical entertainments were organised.

Some observations by Back on the gradual growth of ice, by layers forced together above or underneath, will explain the apparent discrepancies in Arctic works, where one reads of ice of so many different thicknesses formed in the same winter. It is probable that the very thick ice found in many parts of floes is formed by an accumulation of such layers, cemented together in bights or bays, sheltered by projecting capes or headlands, and less liable to disturbance from currents and tides; for they had ocular demonstration, that with a very low temperature and calm weather, in the severest portion of the winter, no addition of bulk takes place from the surface downwards when protected, as their floe was, by a hard coating of snow and drift. The doubling and packing of ice during gales of wind and when exposed to severe pressure, as well as the growth and the extensive fields, are phenomena which the attentive observations of modern voyagers have rendered familiar; and by an extension of the above remark, another explanation besides the action of the waves (for the mere heat of the sun has little influence) is afforded as to how the destruction of the immense fields of ice is effected, not, indeed, by pointing out the agents of the destruction, but by showing how little may in many instances be added in successive winters to the bulk to be destroyed. The fact that no new deposition takes place underneath seems also at once to account for the decayed and wasting appearance, which every one accustomed to polar navigation must have noticed in what is called the old ice, of which sailors will sometimes say—“Aye, sir, that piece is older than I am, but it cannot last above another summer.” The writer well remembers the idea of age, in another form, being associated with snow: “That there snow,” said one of the sailors to him, “is three hundred year old, if it’s a day. Why, don’t you see the wrinkles all over the face of it?” Every one has noticed the wrinkles and ridges in snow, but the idea of associating great age with them was original.

The winter passed slowly, with many false and some true alarms of the ice being in motion. On February 20th they were in imminent peril. For three hours after midnight the ice opened and shut, threatening to crack the vessel like a nutshell. At 4 a.m. the whole of the ice was in motion, great fissures opening on every side. Back writes:—“After 8 a.m. we had some quiet; and at divisions I thought it necessary to address the crew, reminding them, as Christians and British seamen, they were called upon to conduct themselves with coolness and fortitude, and that independently of the obligations imposed by the Articles of War, every one ought to be influenced by the still higher motive of a conscientious desire to perform his duty. I gave them to understand that I expected from one and all, in the event of any disaster, an implicit obedience to and energetic execution of every order that they might receive from the officers, as well as kind and compassionate help to the sick. On their observance of these injunctions, I warned them, our ultimate safety might depend. Some fresh articles of warm clothing were then dealt out to them; and as the moment of destruction was [pg 201]uncertain, I desired that the small bags in which those things were contained should be placed on deck with the provisions, so as to be ready at an instant. The forenoon was spent in getting up bales of blankets, bear-skins, provisions, pyroligneous acid for fuel, and, in short, whatever might be necessary if the ship should be suddenly broken up; and spars were rigged over, the quarters to hoist them out. Meanwhile the ice moved but little, though the hour of full moon was passed; but at noon it began to drift slowly to the northward. We were now from five to eight miles of the nearest land.

BACK ADDRESSING THE SEAMEN.

“Though I had seen vast bodies of ice from Spitzbergen to 150° west longitude under various aspects, some beautiful, and all more or less awe-inspiring, I had never witnessed, nor even imagined, anything so fearfully magnificent as the moving towers and ramparts that now frowned on every side. Had the still extensive pieces of which the floe was formed split and divided like those further off, the effect would have been far less injurious to the ship; but though cracked and rent, the parts, from some inexplicable cause, closed again for a time, and drove with accelerated and almost irresistible force against the defenceless vessel. In the forenoon the other boats were hoisted higher up, to save them from damage in the event of the ship being thrown much over on her broadside. For three hours we remained unmolested, though the ice outside of the floe was moving in various directions, some pieces almost whirling round, and of course, in the effort, disturbing others. At [pg 202]5 p.m., however, the piece near the ship having previously opened enough to allow of her resuming a nearly upright position, collapsed again with a force that made every plank complain; and further pressure being added at 6 o’clock, an ominous cracking was heard, that only ceased on her being lifted bodily up eighteen inches. The same unwelcome visitation was repeated an hour afterwards in consequence of the closing of a narrow lane directly astern. The night was very fine, but the vapour which arose from the many cracks as well as from the small open space alongside, quickly becoming converted into small spiculæ of snow, rendered the cold intolerably keen to those who faced the wind. Up to midnight we were not much annoyed, and for four hours afterwards, on February 21st, all was quiet. Every man had gone to rest with his clothes on, and was agreeably surprised on being so long undisturbed by the usual admonitory grinding. However, at 4 a.m. a commotion was heard, which appeared to be confined to the angle contained between west and north-west. On looking round at daybreak it was found that the ship had been released by the retreating of the ice, and had nearly righted; but at 5 a.m. she rose eighteen inches as before; she was then at intervals jerked up from the pressure underneath, with a groan each time from the woodwork.” And so it went on from day to day, Back and his men being kept incessantly at their duties, and constantly at work examining, and, where it was possible, strengthening the ship. Up to the middle of March they were, however, still safe, but on the 15th they were destined to witness trials of a more awful nature.

“While we were gliding quickly along the land,” says Back—“which I may here remark, had become more broken and rocky, though without obtaining an altitude of more than perhaps one or two hundred feet—at 1.45 p.m., without the least warning, a heavy rush came upon the ship, and, with a tremendous pressure on the larboard quarter, bore her over upon the heavy mass upon her starboard quarter. The strain was severe in every part, though from the forecastle she appeared to be moving in the easiest manner towards the land ice. Suddenly, however, a loud crack was heard below the mainmast, as if the keel were broken or carried away; and simultaneously the outer stern-post from the ten-feet mark was split down to an unknown extent, and projected to the larboard side upwards of three feet. The ship was thrown up by the stern to the seven-and-a-half feet mark; and that damage had been done was soon placed beyond doubt by the increase of leakage, which now amounted to three feet per hour. Extra pumps were worked, and while some of the carpenters were fixing diagonal shores forward, others were examining the orlops and other parts. It was reported to me by the first lieutenant, master, and carpenter, that nothing could be detected inside, though apprehensions were entertained by the two former that some serious injury had been inflicted. In spite of the commotion the different pieces of our floe still remained firm; but being unable to foresee what might take place in the night, I ordered the cutters and two whale-boats to be lowered down, and hauled with their stores to places considered more secure; this was accordingly done, though not under two hours and a half, even with the advantage of daylight. The ship was still setting fast along shore, and much too close to the fixed ice; but it was not till past 8 p.m. that any suspicious movement was noticed near us; then, however, a continually increasing rush was heard, which at 10.45 p.m. came on with a heavy roar towards the larboard quarter, upturning in its progress and rolling onward with it an immense wall of ice. This advanced [pg 203]so fast that though all hands were immediately called they had barely time, with the greatest exertion, to extricate three of the boats, one of them, in fact, being hoisted up when only a few feet from the crest of the solid wave, which held a steady course directly for the quarter, almost overtopping it, and continuing to elevate itself until about twenty-five feet high. A piece had just reached the rudder slung athwart the stern, and at the moment when, to all appearances, both that and a portion at least of the framework were expected to be staved in and buried beneath the ruins, the motion ceased; at the same time the crest of the nearest part of the wave toppled over, leaving a deep wall extending from thence beyond the quarter. The effect of the whole was a leak in the extreme run, oozing, as far as could be ascertained, from somewhere about the sternpost. It ran in along the lining like a rill for about half an hour, when it stopped, probably closed by a counter pressure. The other leaks could be kept under by the incessant use of one pump.

“Our intervals of repose were now very short, for at 12.50 a.m., March 16th, another rush drove irresistibly on the larboard quarter and stern, and, forcing the ship ahead, raised her upon the ice. A chaotic ruin followed; our poor and cherished courtyard, its walls and arched doors, gallery, and well-trodden paths, were rent, and in some parts ploughed up like dust. The ship was careened fully four streaks, and sprang a leak as before. Scarcely were ten minutes left us for the expression of our astonishment that anything of human build could outlive such assaults, when, at 1 a.m., another equally violent rush succeeded; and, in its way towards the starboard quarter, threw up a rolling wave thirty feet high, crowned by a blue square mass of many tons, resembling the entire side of a house, which, after hanging for some time in doubtful poise on the ridge, at length fell with a crash into the hollow, in which, as in a cavern, the after-part of the ship seemed imbedded. It was indeed an awful crisis, rendered more frightful from the mistiness of the night and dimness of the moon. The poor ship cracked and trembled violently; and no one could say that the next minute would not be her last, and, indeed, his own too, for with her our means of safety would probably perish. The leak continued, and again (most likely as before, from counter pressure) the principal one closed up. When all this was over, and there seemed to be a chance of a respite, I ordered a double allowance of preserved meat, &c., to be issued to the crew, whose long exposure to the cold rendered some extra stimulant necessary. Until 4 a.m. the rushes still kept coming from different directions, but fortunately with diminished force. From that hour to 8 a.m. everything was still, and the ice quite stationary, somewhat to the westward of the singular point, terminating as it were in a knob, which was the farthest eastern extreme yesterday. We certainly were not more than three miles from the barren and irregular land abeam, which received the name of Point Terror. To this was attached a rugged shelf of what for the time might be called shore ice, having at its seaward face a mural ridge of unequal, though in many parts imposing, height, certainly not less than from fifty to sixty feet.”

At last the long-delayed day of release drew nigh. The ship had now been three-fourths of a year enclosed in the ice, with which it had drifted several hundred miles, when, on July 11th, “the crew had resumed their customary labour, and, as they [pg 204]drew nearer to the stern-post, various noises and crackings beneath them plainly hinted that something more than usual was in progress. After breakfast I visited them and the other parties as previously stated. Scarcely had I taken a few turns on deck and descended to my cabin when a loud rumbling notified that the ship had broken her icy bonds, and was sliding gently down into her own element. I ran instantly on deck, and joined in the cheers of the officers and men, who, dispersed on different pieces of ice, took this significant method of expressing their feelings. It was a sight not to be forgotten. Standing on the taffrail, I saw the dark bubbling water below, and enormous masses of ice gently vibrating and springing to the surface; the first lieutenant was just climbing over the stern, while other groups were standing apart, separated by this new gulf; and the spars, together with working implements, were resting half in the water, half on the ice, whilst the saw, the instrument whereby this sudden effect had been produced, was bent double, and in that position forcibly detained by the body it had severed.” Having cut to within four feet of the stern-post, the crew had ceased work for a few moments, when the disruption took place, barely giving them time to clamber up as they could for safety. Shortly afterwards a very curious incident occurred. The Terror was almost capsized by a small submerged berg which had been released by the breaking up of the floe. On July 14th the ship righted; and from that time to their arrival in England, after they had managed to patch up, caulk, and render her seaworthy, little of special interest occurred. It is questionable whether any vessel has ever gone through more of the special perils which beset ice navigation than did the Terror; but although terribly shattered, we shall meet her again staunchly braving the dangers of the Arctic.

CHAPTER XXII.

Franklin’s Last Voyage.

Sir John Franklin and his Career—His Last Expedition—Takes the Command as his Birthright—The last seen of his Ships—Alarm at their long absence—The Search—A few faint traces discovered by Parry—A Fleet beset in the Ice—Efforts made to communicate with Franklin—Rockets and Balloons—M’Clure’s Expedition—Discovery of the North-West Passage—Strange Arrival of Lieutenant Pim over the Ice—The Investigator abandoned—Crew Saved—Reward of £10,000 to M’Clure and his Ship’s Company.

The name of Sir John Franklin, whose sad destiny it was to perish at the moment of triumph, stands pre-eminent as one of the brightest ornaments in our long list of naval heroes. Peculiarly adapted by the bent of his mind to the profession he had adopted, he brought to his aid the love of adventure, a perfect knowledge of seamanship, and a zeal for geographical discovery, combined with an integrity of purpose and a hardy intrepidity, that, even in the service he so highly adorned, have never been surpassed. Tried alike in peace and war, and illustrious in both, this noble knight-errant of the northern seas, irresistible as one of those icebergs that tried to bar his way, was always ready [pg 205]to do his duty for his native land. Whether on the quarter-deck, in the midst of the enemy’s hottest fire, or daring the dangers of the frozen ocean, among ice and snow, blinded by dense fogs and endless nights, without guides or sea room, he always showed the same fearless spirit, unwearied perseverance, and love for the welfare of his country which caused him to succeed in the end, although that success was so dearly bought.

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.

The purest heroism of England has been found in that land of desolation which a wealth of valour has consecrated, and the hearts of the tars who fought under Nelson were not more brave than those who sailed to meet their fate under “good Sir John.” Setting little value on his own personal comfort, but never neglecting the well-being of his crew, he made himself beloved and respected by all, and when he passed away to “the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns,” he left behind him the memory of his brave deeds as an example to the youth of his fatherland. The most triumphant death is that of a martyr; the most glorious martyr is he who dies for his fellow-men. Successful in death, Franklin and his brave followers reached the goal, and perished. Well may the inscription on their monument say, “They forged the last link with their lives.”[35]

Sir John Franklin, a native of Spilsby, in Lincolnshire, was destined for the Church by his father, who purchased an advowson for him. While at the Louth Grammar School, during a holiday walk, he first saw the sea. This was the turning-point of his life, and he determined henceforth to be a sailor. In the hope of disgusting him his father sent him on a trial voyage in a merchantman to Lisbon, but this trip only confirmed his decision, and he joined the Polyphemus, in the year 1800, the vessel which, under Captain Lawford, led the line in the glorious battle of Copenhagen. Two months after this engagement he was transferred to the Investigator, commanded by his relative, Captain Flinders, and set out on his first voyage of discovery to Australia, where he obtained a correctness in astronomical observations and a skill in surveying that became of the greatest service to him in his future career. Returning home in the Porpoise, he was wrecked on a coral reef, and, with ninety-four persons, remained on a narrow bank of sand only four feet above the level of the water for fifty days, until Captain Flinders, who made the voyage of 250 leagues to Port Jackson in an open boat, returned to their rescue. On reaching England Franklin joined the Bellerophon, and performed the duties of signal-midshipman with the greatest coolness, in the memorable battle of Trafalgar, where all his companions on the poop were, with exception of four or five, killed or wounded. In his next ship, the Bedford, he attained the rank of lieutenant, served in the blockade of Flushing, and was wounded in the disastrous attack on New Orleans. Shortly afterwards he entered on that career in the Arctic regions with which his name is so intimately identified, and which has been recorded. We now come to the last sad closing scene of that grand life.

In 1845 a new expedition was organised by the Admiralty to make one more attempt at the North-west Passage. For more than a year previously many of the leading scientific men and old Arctic explorers had been urging it upon the attention of the Government, and many were the volunteers who desired to join it. The late Admiral Sherard Osborn, Franklin’s biographer, tells us that it was at one time intended that Fitzjames, whose genius and energy marked him for no common officer, should have the command; but just about this time Sir John Franklin was heard to say that he considered it his birthright, as the senior Arctic explorer in England. He had then only recently returned from Tasmania, where he had been acting as Lieutenant-Governor, and where he had held an unthankful post, owing to some unmerited and disagreeable treatment from the then Secretary for the Colonies. “Directly it was known,” says Osborn, “that he would go if asked, the Admiralty were, of course, only too glad to avail themselves of the experience of such a man; but Lord Haddington, with that kindness which ever distinguished him, suggested that Franklin might well rest at home on his laurels. ‘I might find a good excuse for not letting you go, Sir John,’ said the peer, ‘in the telling record which informs me that you are sixty years of age.’ ‘No, no, my lord,’ was Franklin’s rejoinder, ‘I am only fifty-nine.’ Before such earnestness all [pg 207]scruples ceased. The offer was officially made, and accepted. To Sir John Franklin was confided the Arctic expedition, consisting of H.M.S. Erebus, in which he hoisted his pennant, and H.M.S. Terror, commanded by Captain Crozier, who had recently accompanied Sir James Ross in his wonderful voyage to the antarctic seas.”

THE EREBUS AND THE TERROR AMONG ICEBERGS.

The two vessels were completely overhauled and much strengthened, auxiliary screws, engines, and fuel provided, and they were provisioned for three years. The vessels left Greenhithe on May 19th, and by the third week of July reached a point near Disco, Greenland, where a transport which had accompanied them took on board the last letters of officers and crews for home. They were seen on July 26th by a whaler, and were at that date moored to an iceberg, waiting for a favourable opportunity to enter the ice of Baffin’s Bay. From that day to the present no one of that gallant band has ever been seen alive except by the wandering Esquimaux, and not till 1854 was anything certain gleaned concerning their fate. Even the meagre outlines then obtained were not filled in till 1859, when M’Clintock made his memorable discoveries, and brought to light one of the saddest of modern tragedies.

Subsequent researches enable us to state that their first winter was passed near Beechey Island, where they lost three men. They had reached it by sailing through a channel discovered between Cornwallis and Bathurst Islands, and thence by Barrow’s Straits. For a year and a half after the expedition had left no anxiety about it was felt; but after a council of naval officers had been called by the Admiralty, it was decided that should no news arrive that summer, preparations should be made for its relief. This was done. Light boats and supplies were forwarded to Hudson’s Bay, and in 1848, when the public alarm became general, several expeditions were sent out. Later, as we all know, the Government fitted out a whole series of vessels; the Hudson’s Bay Company sent forth several land parties; Lady Franklin spent the larger part of her private fortune, and America came bravely to the rescue. No less than thirty-two vessels were sent out on the search by England up to 1859, and three by the United States, while there were five land expeditions provided in large part by the Hudson’s Bay Company. We must necessarily only speak of the more interesting of these gallant attempts. Strangely enough, as we shall see, almost the only information of value concerning the fate of Franklin and his brave band was obtained by private enterprise, in spite of the gallant efforts of so many in the royal navy.

One of the very first attempts made to communicate with the missing party was sent in 1848, viâ Behring Straits. Captain Kellett, of H.M.S. Herald, and Captain Moore, H.M.S. Plover, added much to our knowledge of the northern coasts of Siberia and north-western America; and Lieutenant Pullen, of the Herald, made an adventurous boat journey from Behring Straits to the mouth of the Mackenzie. But not the merest spark of information was obtained concerning Franklin.

Some few traces were discovered by Captain Penny in 1850, at a period when the fears of all were at their culminating point. In this and the following year several vessels were sent out by Government, among them H.M.S. Resolute, Captain Austin; H.M.S. Assistance, Captain Ommaney; Lady Franklin, W. Penny, master; Sophia, A. Stewart, master; H.M.S. Pioneer, Lieut. Osborn; also, at the expense of the Hudson’s Bay Company, the yacht [pg 208]Felix, Rear-Admiral Sir John Ross. The whole of these entered the Arctic regions from the Atlantic side, and either met at various times or were in company. Osborn has recorded many facts and incidents concerning them, from which we shall only cull a few of the more interesting.

Describing the feat of cutting docks in the ice, to partially avoid the pressure of the floes when they come crashing together, he says:—“Smart things are done in the navy, but I do not think anything could excel the alacrity with which the floe was suddenly peopled by about 300 men (crews of whalers chiefly), triangles rigged, and the long saws, called ice-saws, manned.

CUTTING ICE DOCKS.

“A hundred songs from hoarse throats resounded through the gale, the sharp chipping of the saws told that the work was flying, and the laugh and broad witticisms of the crews mingled with the words of command and encouragement to exertion given by the officers.

“The pencil of a Wilkie could hardly convey the characteristics of such a scene, and it is far beyond my humble pen to tell of the stirring animation exhibited by twenty ships’ companies, who knew that on their own exertions depended the safety of their vessels and the success of their voyage. The ice was of an average thickness of three feet, and to cut this, saws of ten feet long were used, the length of stroke being about as far as the men [pg 210]directing the saw could reach up and down. A little powder was used to break up the pieces that were cut, so as to get them easily out of the mouth of the dock—an operation which the officers of our vessels performed while the men cut away with the saws. In a very short time all the vessels were in safety, the pressure of the pack expending itself on a chain of bergs some ten miles north of our present position. The unequal contest between floe and iceberg exhibited itself there in a fearful manner; for the former, pressing onward against the huge grounded masses, were torn into shreds, and thrown back piecemeal, layer on layer of many feet in elevation, as if mere shreds of some flimsy material, instead of solid, hard ice, every cubic yard of which weighed nearly a ton.”

ICE MOUNTAINS.

They were not always so fortunate. A little later they were again beset, and escape seemed hopeless. The commander, called from his berth to deck, found the vessel thrown considerably over by the pressure of the ice on one side, while every timber was straining, cracking, and groaning. “On reaching the deck,” says Osborn, “I saw, indeed, that the poor Pioneer was in sad peril: the deck was arching with the pressure on her sides, the scupper pieces were turned up out of the mortices, and a quiver of agony wrung my craft’s frame from stem to taffrail, whilst the floe, as if impatient to overwhelm its victim, had piled up as high as the bulwark in many places. The men who, whaler fashion, had without orders brought their clothes on deck, ready to save their little property, stood in knots waiting for directions from their officers, who, with anxious eyes, watched the floe-edge as it ground past the side to see whether the strain was easing. Suddenly it did so, and we were safe. But a deep dent in the Pioneer’s side, extending for some forty feet, and the fact, as we afterwards learned, of twenty-one timbers being broken on one side, proved that the trial had been a severe one.”

After overtaking Captain Penny, Osborn learned of the former’s discoveries on Beechey Island, the first wintering place of Sir John Franklin, and on August 29th paid a visit to the spot. “It needed not,” says he, “a dark wintry sky or a gloomy day to throw a sombre shade around my feelings as I landed on Beechey Island and looked down upon the bay on whose bosom had ridden Her Majesty’s ships Erebus and Terror. There was a sickening anxiety of the heart as one involuntarily clutched at every relic which they of Franklin’s squadron had left behind, in the vain hope that some clue as to the route they had taken hence might be found.” The hope was vain: no document of any kind was discovered, although a carefully constructed cairn, formed of meat-tins filled with gravel, was found and carefully searched. There was the embankment of a house, with a carpenter’s and armourer’s workshops, coal-bags, tubs, pieces of old clothing, rope, cinders, chips, &c.; the remnants of a garden, probably made in joke, but with neat borders of moss and lichens, and even poppies and anemones transplanted from some more genial part of the island. The graves of three of the crews of the Erebus and Terror, bearing the dates of 1845 and 1846, proved conclusively that the expedition had wintered there.

Osborn’s description of an Arctic dinner is interesting. “ ‘The pemmican is all ready, sir,’ reports our Soyer. In troth, appetite need wait on one, for the greasy compound would pall on moderate taste or hunger. Tradition said that it was composed of the best rump-steaks and suet, and cost 1s. 6d. per pound. To our then untutored tastes it seemed composed of broken-down horses and Russian tallow. If not sweet in savour, it was strong [pg 211]in nourishment, and after six table-spoonfuls we cried, ‘Hold! enough!’ But there came a day when we sat hungry and lean, longing for this coarse mess, and eating a pound of it with avidity, and declaring it to be delicious!” Frozen cold pork was found delicious with biscuit and a steaming cup of tea.

During the long winter, fancying it possible they were in the neighbourhood of Franklin’s party, rockets were fired and small balloons sent off. The latter carried slow matches five feet long, which, as they burned, let loose pieces of coloured paper, on which were printed their position and other information. A carrier pigeon, despatched on one occasion by Sir John Ross from his quarters in the Arctic in 1850, reached its old home in Ayr, Scotland, in five days, having flown 3,000 miles! Numerous sledging parties were despatched from the various ships above-named, but without obtaining any further information regarding Franklin.

M’Clure’s expedition has been generally regarded only in connection with the discovery of the North-west Passage, but he also engaged in the search for Franklin. With him was associated Captain Collinson, and both were ordered to proceed viâ Behring Straits to the Arctic. The Enterprise, commanded by the latter, proceeded a little in advance of the Investigator, commanded by M’Clure, which left Plymouth on January 20th, 1850. Late in July the Arctic Circle was crossed, and shortly afterwards, at different dates, the Plover and Herald were met. Captain Kellett, of the latter, reported the discovery of the new land north of Behring Straits since always associated with his name. It was covered with lofty and broken peaks, and Kellett thought it to be the same as described by Wrangell, the Russian explorer, on the authority of natives. Some doubt has at times been thrown on this discovery, but it has been since sighted by an American whaler.

On August 21st the Investigator reached the Pelly Islands, and crossed the mouth of the great Mackenzie River. Little did M’Clure think that the day after, Lieutenant Pullen, H.M.S. Herald, with a boat’s crew, was returning from a visit to Cape Bathurst, and must have passed at a distance of a few miles, a convincing proof of the easiness of missing one another in the Arctic seas. Shortly afterwards they met a number of natives, and held some communication with them. Osborn says that “when asked why they did not trade with the white men up the big river (i.e., the Mackenzie), the reply was they had given the Indians a water which had killed a great many of them, and had made others foolish, and they did not want any of it!” This statement is rather doubtful, as the Hudson’s Bay Company does not, as the writer well knows, trade in spirits, at least in those remote districts; and further, if they did, it would be a very unusual circumstance for natives to decline it, as the whalers and traders on the coast know full well.

“On September 17th the Investigator had reached her farthest eastward position in long. 117° 10′; and a couple of days afterwards, it was decided, instead of returning to seek a harbour, to winter in the pack ice. It was a dangerous, though a daring experiment, but the fact that it might facilitate expeditions for the relief of Franklin seems to have been uppermost in the commander’s mind. The ice was not yet strong enough to remain tranquil, and M’Clure had provisions and fuel on deck, and boats [pg 212]ready, in case of the vessel being crushed. On September 27th a change of wind set the ice in motion, and drove the vessel towards some abrupt and dangerous cliffs, 400 feet high, where there was no beach, and not a ledge where a goat could get a foothold. Should the vessel strike their only hope was in the boats. Happily the ice current changed, and swept them past the rocks. At this period the crashing of the ice and creaking and straining of the vessel’s timbers were deafening, and the officer of the watch when speaking had to put his mouth close to his commander’s ear, and shout out. The neighbouring land was searched for game, the unpleasant discovery having been made that nearly 500 pounds of their preserved meat had become putrid.”

The 26th of October, 1850, was an important day in the history of Arctic adventure. Five days before, M’Clure, with six men and a sledge, had left the ship, and had since travelled through Barrow’s Straits. On the clear and cloudless morning of the 26th they ascended a hill before dawn. “As the sun rose the panorama slowly unveiled itself. First, the land called after H.R.H. Prince Albert showed out on an easterly bearing, and from a point, since called after the late Sir Robert Peel, it evidently turned away to the east, and formed the northern entrance to the channel upon that side. The coast of Bank’s Land, on which the party stood, terminated at a low point about twelve miles further on.... Away to the north, and across the entrance of Prince of Wales Straits, lay the frozen waters of Barrow, or, as it is now called, Melville Straits, and raised as our explorers were, at an altitude of 600 feet above its level, the eyesight embraced a distance which precluded the possibility of any land lying in that direction between them and Melville Island. A north-west passage was discovered. All doubt as to the existence of a water communication between the two great oceans was removed.” On the return journey M’Clure, hastening forward to order a warm meal for his men at the ship, lost his way in a snow-storm and had to wander about all night. In the morning he found that he had passed the Investigator by four miles.

The winter passed away, and, as the spring advanced, preparations were made for continuing the voyage. On May 21st a curious event occurred. “About 10.30 a large bear was passing the ship, when Captain M’Clure killed it with a rifle shot. On examining the stomach, great was the astonishment of all present at the medley it contained. There were raisins that had not been long swallowed, a few small pieces of tobacco leaf, bits of pork fat cut into cubes, which the ship’s cook declared must have been used for making mock turtle soup, an article often found on board a ship in a preserved form; and, lastly, fragments of sticking-plaster, which, from the forms into which they had been cut, must evidently have passed through the hands of a surgeon.” Better evidences of the proximity of some other vessel or exploring party could not be afforded. But from which of them had this miscellaneous collection been derived?

On July 17th the vessel got out of the ice, and soon passed round the south end of Bank’s Land; but, after many perils, did not succeed in making a further eastward progress, and had again to go into winter quarters towards the end of September. This was a severe winter for them. The scurvy made its appearance, and the provisions were running short. M’Clure had now decided to keep only thirty men in the vessel, and send the remainder in two divisions, one up Mackenzie River, the other [pg 213]to Beechey Island, where Captain Pullen, of H.M.S. North Star was stationed for purposes of relief. At the beginning of April all the preparations for these sledge parties had been made, when an unexpected event occurred, which M’Clure’s own words will best describe:—

CAPTAIN ROBERT LE MESURIER M’CLURE.

While walking near the ship with the first lieutenant “we perceived a figure walking rapidly towards us from the rough ice at the entrance of the bay. From his pace and gestures we both naturally supposed at first that he was some one of our party pursued by a bear; but, as we approached him, doubts arose as to who it could be. He was certainly unlike any of our men; but, recollecting that it was possible some one might be trying on a new travelling dress preparatory to the departure of our sledges, and certain that no one else was near, we continued to advance. When within about two hundred yards of us, this strange figure threw up his arms, and made gesticulations resembling those used by Esquimaux, besides shouting, at the top of his voice, words which, from the wind and intense excitement of the moment, sounded like a wild screech, and this brought us fairly to a standstill. The stranger came quietly on, and we saw that his face was as black as ebony; and really at the moment we might be pardoned for wondering whether he was a denizen of this or the other world; and had he but given us a glimpse of a tail or a cloven hoof, we should assuredly have taken [pg 214]to our legs. As it was, we gallantly stood our ground; and, had the skies fallen upon us we could hardly have been more astonished than when the dark stranger called out—

“ ‘I’m Lieutenant Pim, late of the Herald, and now in the Resolute. Captain Kellett is in her at Dealy Island!’

“To rush at and seize him by the hand was the first impulse, for the heart was too full for the tongue to speak. The announcement of relief being close at hand, when none was supposed to be within the Arctic Circle, was too sudden, unexpected, and joyous, for our minds to comprehend it at once. The news flew with lightning rapidity. The ship was all in commotion; the sick, forgetful of their maladies, leaped from their hammocks; the artificers dropped their tools, and the lower deck was cleared of men; for they all rushed for the hatchway, to be assured that a stranger was actually amongst them, and that his tale was true. Despondency fled from the ship, and Lieutenant Pim received a welcome which he will never forget.”

THE SLEDGE PARTY OF THE RESOLUTE, UNDER LIEUT. BEDFORD PIM, FINDING THE INVESTIGATOR.

Of course M’Clure immediately started to visit Captain Kellett. At first there were some hopes of saving the Investigator; but the reports of both ships’ surgeons on the state of the crew were so unfavourable, that the men were at once transferred to the Resolute and Intrepid, and the former abandoned. These also had in their turn to be abandoned; but the united crews in the end reached England in safety. A court-martial was held on M’Clure, and he was, of course, honourably acquitted. In the following session a reward of £10,000 was awarded to the officers and crew of the Investigator, and every one of its brave company received a medal from the Queen, which, doubtless, they have treasured as a memento of the three dreary yet eventful winters passed by them on the ice.[36]

Among the earlier vessels employed in the search for Franklin were the Advance and Rescue, sent out from America in 1850, at the expense of H. Grinnell, Esq., a noble-hearted New York merchant. Lieutenant De Haven had charge of the expedition, while the afterwards celebrated Dr. Kane accompanied him as surgeon. De Haven fell in with Ross and Penny, and examined the first winter quarters of Franklin’s party, discovered by the latter, and of which mention has been already made. He was very much hampered by the ice, and at the end of the season returned to the United States from a somewhat fruitless expedition. In addition to the several expeditions already briefly mentioned here, many attempts, both by land and sea, to rescue Franklin’s band were made between 1851 and 1855. Captains Inglefield, Frederick, Sir Edward Belcher, Kellett, M’Clintock (first voyage), Pullen, Maguire, Dr. Kane, and others, sought in vain for traces of the lost expedition. As we shall see in our succeeding chapter, Dr. John Rae, an indefatigable and experienced traveller, was more successful; whilst the crowning discoveries, which for ever settled the fate of Franklin, were reserved for the gallant M’Clintock of the ever memorable Fox expedition.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FRANKLIN SEARCH.

The Franklin Expedition—The First Relics—Dr. Rae’s Discoveries—The Government tired of the Search—Noble Lady Franklin—The Voyage of the Fox—Beset in the Ice for Eight Months—Enormous Icebergs—Seal and Bear Hunts—Unearthly Noises under the Floes—Guy Fawkes in the Arctic—The Fiftieth Seal Shot—A Funeral—A Merry Christmas—New Year Celebration—Winter Gales—Their Miraculous Escape—Experience of a Whaler—Breakfast and Ship lost together.

In October, 1854, the startling news came from Dr. Rae that he had at length found some definite traces of the lost expedition. For several years he had been engaged in the search—principally at the expense of the Hudson’s Bay Company—during which time he had descended the Mackenzie and Coppermine Rivers, and explored the shores and islands of the Polar Ocean without success. During his last journey, however, in 1853-4, he had obtained positive evidence from the Esquimaux regarding the fate of the Erebus and Terror and their crews. Six years before, in the spring-time, some forty white men had been seen painfully straggling over the ice, dragging with them a boat and sledges. They had indicated by signs that their vessels had been crushed in the ice, and that they were now trying to reach a habitable part of the country where they might find game. They were much emaciated from the effects of starvation, exposure, and unwonted exertion. Later in the same year the corpses of some thirty persons and some graves were discovered by the Esquimaux on the mainland, and five other bodies were subsequently found on an island close to it, and about a day’s journey north-west of Back’s Great Fish River. Several of them had died in their tents, and one, believed to have been an officer, was described as lying on his double-barrelled gun, with his telescope yet strapped to his shoulders. Dr. Rae obtained a number of relics from the Esquimaux, including pieces of plate and other articles known to have belonged to the officers. The Government was satisfied that these facts indicated the entire loss of the party, and the long outstanding reward of £10,000 offered to any one who should bring intelligence of their fate was paid to Dr. Rae and his party. Next season, Mr. John Anderson, a chief factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company, while making a canoe voyage down Great Fish River to Montreal Island and Point Ogle, obtained some confirmatory evidence and a few more relics from the natives.

BACK’S GREAT FISH RIVER.

The Government had now become tired of the search, and perhaps for good reason, for its own officers had not been, as we have seen, successful in obtaining the desired information, while there had been an immense expenditure of the public money in fruitless expeditions. It cannot, however, be wondered at that Lady Franklin had not abandoned all hope, and that she, in common with many others, was not satisfied with the meagre evidence of their fate so far obtained. That it pointed to the loss of the larger part of the officers and men could not be doubted, but there was yet the possibility of some of them surviving at some distant point it might be among the Esquimaux. Backed by distinguished naval officers and men of science and influence, she appealed to the Government to make one more last effort. It was in vain, and there was nothing for it but a private expedition. Lady Franklin purchased the steam-yacht Fox, and aided, in a limited degree only, by [pg 216]private subscriptions and some Government aid, fitted her out most completely. She was soon gratified by obtaining the willing and gratuitous services of several distinguished officers. Captain (now Sir) F. L. M’Clintock, who had braved the dangers of the Arctic with (James) Ross, Austin, and Kellett; Lieutenant W. R. Hobson, an officer of much experience; Captain Allen Young, of the merchant marine, who not merely threw his services into the cause, but subscribed £500 in furtherance of it; and Dr. David Walker, an accomplished surgeon and scientific man—were all volunteers whose services were secured. “Many worthy old shipmates,” says M’Clintock, “my companions in the previous Arctic voyages, most readily volunteered their services, and were as gratefully accepted, for it was my anxious wish to gather around me well-tried men, who were aware of the duties expected of them and accustomed to naval discipline. Hence, out of the twenty-five souls composing our small company, seventeen had previously served in the Arctic search.” Just before starting, Carl Petersen, now so well known to Arctic readers on account of his subsequent connection with Dr. Kane’s expedition, joined the vessel as interpreter. The vessel was amply provisioned for twenty-eight months, and the supplies included preserved vegetables, lemon-juice, and pickles, for daily consumption. The Admiralty caused 6,682 lbs. of pemmican[37] to be prepared for the expedition, and the Board of Ordnance furnished the arms, powder and shot, rockets, and powder for ice blasting. M’Clintock, being anxious to retain for his vessel the privileges she formerly enjoyed as a yacht, was enrolled as a member of several of the leading clubs.

The Fox left England on the last day of June, 1857, and after visiting some of the Greenland settlements, turned seawards. Seventy miles to the west of Upernavik the edge of the “middle ice” was reached, and the vessel caught in its margin of loose ice. They soon steamed out of what might have been to a sailing vessel a serious predicament, and closely examined the field for forty miles without finding an opening. M’Clintock, being satisfied that he could not force a passage through it across Baffin’s Bay, steered to the northward, and on August 12th was in Melville Bay, where the vessel was made fast to an iceberg which was grounded in fifty-eight fathoms (348 feet) of water. Here they were again beset by the ice. Alas! this was but the commencement of their troubles. For 242 days—or, in other words, for eight months after this—the little Fox was helplessly and, as it often appeared, hopelessly, drifting with the ice packed and piled around her, with but a feeble chance of escape, and with a very strong probability of being crushed to nothing without a moment’s warning. Some extracts from M’Clintock’s journal will be found interesting at this juncture.

“20th. No favourable ice-drift; this detention has become most painful. The Enterprise reached the open water upon this day in 1848, within fifty miles of our present position. Unfortunately, our prospects are not so cheering. There is no relative motion in the floes of ice, except a gradual closing together, the small spaces and streaks of water being still further diminished. The temperature has fallen, and is usually below the [pg 217]freezing point. I feel most keenly the difficulty of my position. We cannot afford to lose many more days.

“The men enjoy a game of rounders on the ice each evening. Petersen and Christian are constantly on the look-out for seals, as well as Hobson and Young occasionally. If in good condition and killed instantaneously the seals float. Several have already been shot. The liver fried with bacon is excellent.

“Birds have become scarce. The few we see are returning southward. How anxiously I watch the ice, weather, barometer, and thermometer! Wind from any other quarter than south-east would oblige the floe-pieces to re-arrange themselves, in doing which they would become loose, and then would be our opportunity to proceed.

“24th. Fine weather, with very light northerly winds. We have drifted seven miles to the west in the last two days. The ice is now a close pack, so close that one may walk for many miles over it in any direction by merely turning a little to the right or left to avoid the small water spaces. My frequent visits to the crow’s-nest are not inspiriting. How absolutely distressing this imprisonment is to me no one without similar experience can form any idea. As yet the crew have but little suspicion how blighted our prospects are.

“The dreaded reality of wintering in the pack is gradually forcing itself upon my mind; but I must not write on this subject: it is bad enough to brood over it unceasingly. We can see the land all round Melville Bay, from Cape Walker nearly to Cape York. Petersen is indefatigable at seal shooting; he is so anxious to secure them for our dogs. He says they must be hit in the head; ‘if you hit him in the beef that is not good,’ meaning that a flesh wound does not prevent their escaping under the ice. Petersen and Christian practise an Esquimaux mode of attracting the seals. They scrape the ice, thus making a noise like that produced by a seal in making a hole with its flippers, and then place one end of a pole in the water and put their mouths close to the other end, making noises in imitation of the snorts and grunts of their intended victims. Whether the device is successful or not I do not know, but it looks laughable enough.

“Christian came back a few days ago, like a true seal hunter, carrying his kaiyack on his head, and dragging a seal behind him. Only two years ago Petersen returned across this bay with Dr. Kane’s retreating party. He shot a seal, which they devoured, and which, under Providence, saved their lives. Petersen is a good ice pilot, knows all these coasts as well as, or better than, any man living, and, from long experience and habits of observation, is almost unerring in his prognostications of the weather. Besides his great value to us as interpreter, few men are better adapted for Arctic work—an ardent sportsman, an agreeable companion, never at a loss for occupation or amusement, and always contented and sanguine. But we have, happily, many such dispositions in the Fox.

“30th. The whole distance across Melville Bay is 170 miles; of this we have performed about 120, forty of which we have drifted in the last fourteen days.

“Yesterday we set to work as usual to warp the ship along, and moved her ten feet. An insignificant hummock then blocked up the narrow passage. As we could not push it before us, a two-pound blasting charge was exploded, and the surface ice was shattered; but such an immense quantity of broken ice came up from beneath that the difficulty was greatly increased instead of being removed. This is one of the many instances in which our small vessel labours under very great disadvantages in ice navigation; we have neither sufficient manual power, steam power, nor impetus to force the floes asunder. I am convinced that a steamer of moderate size and power, with a crew of forty or fifty men, would have got through a hundred miles of such ice in less time than we have been beset.”

And so it went on from day to day, M’Clintock knowing that it was fast becoming hopeless to expect a release, but, nevertheless, keeping his men well employed in preparations for wintering and sledge-travelling. Every now and then a “lane” of water opening in the ice would mock their hopes. On one occasion such an opening appeared within 170 yards of the vessel, and by the aid of steam and blasting powder they advanced 100 yards towards it, when the floes again closed up tightly, and they had their trouble for their pains. Numerous large icebergs were around them. Allen Young examined one, which was 250 feet high, and aground in 83 fathoms (498 feet) of water. In other words, the enormous mass was nearly 750 feet from top to bottom. The reader can judge of such dimensions by comparison: St. Paul’s is only 370 feet in height. The looser ice drifting past this berg was crushed, and piled up against its sides to a height of fifty feet.

Meantime they were very successful in the hunt. Seals were caught in numbers, and their twenty-nine dogs kept in good condition on the meat. The dogs were at this period kept on the ice outside the ship, and occasionally one would start out on a solitary expedition, remaining away all night, but invariably returning for meal-time. On the evening of November 2nd there was a sudden call “to arms,” and every one, whether “sleeping, prosing, or schooling”—for Dr. Walker held a school on board—flew to the ice, where a large he-bear was seen struggling with the dogs. He had approached within twenty-five yards of the ship before the quartermaster’s eye detected his indistinct outline against the snow. In crossing some very thin ice he broke through into the water, where he was surrounded by yelping dogs. Hobson, Young, and Petersen, had each lodged a bullet in him, but these only seemed to increase his rage. At length he got out of the water, and would doubtless have demolished some of the dogs, when M’Clintock, with a well-directed shot, put a bullet through his brain. The bear was a large one, and its carcase fed the dogs for nearly a month. M’Clintock says:—“For the few moments of its duration the chase and death was exciting. And how strange and novel the scene! A misty moon affording but scanty light, dark figures gliding singly about, not daring to approach each other, for the ice trembled under their feet, the enraged bear, the wolfish, howling dogs, and the bright flashes of the deadly rifles.”

About this period, and while the weather was reasonably fair, unearthly noises were heard under the ice, and alarming disruptions occurred close to the ship. Of one of the former occasions M’Clintock writes:—“A renewal of ice-crushing within a few hundred yards of us; I can hear it in my bed. The ordinary sound resembles the roar of distant surf breaking heavily and continuously; but when heavy masses come in collision with much impetus it fully realises the justness of Dr. Kane’s descriptive epithet, ‘ice artillery.’ Fortunately for us, our poor little Fox is well within the margin of a stout old floe; we are therefore undisturbed spectators of ice-conflicts which would be irresistible to anything of human construction. Immediately about the ship all is still, and, as far as appearances go, she is precisely as she would be in a secure harbour, housed all over, banked up with snow to the gunwales. In fact, her winter plumage is so complete that the masts alone are visible.”

Whenever it was possible to employ or amuse the men among these dreary scenes M’Clintock was most desirous that it should be done. Dr. Walker’s school was a genuine success, and the rather old school-boys most diligent in their studies, which were at first confined to the three R’s—reading, ’riting, and ’rithmetic. Later, however, lectures and readings were organised, and subjects adapted to interest the crew, such as the trade winds, the atmosphere, the uses of the thermometer, barometer, and so forth, were chosen. Healthful exercise was afforded to the men in banking up the ship with snow. On November 5th, says M’Clintock, “in order to vary our monotonous routine, we determined to celebrate the day.” Extra grog was issued, and one of Lady Franklin’s thoughtful presents, in the shape of preserved plum-pudding, helped to mark the occasion. In the evening a procession was organised, and the crew sallied forth, with drum, gong, and discord, to burn a huge effigy of Guy Fawkes upon the ice. “Their blackened faces, extravagant costumes, glaring torches, and savage yells, frightened [pg 220]away all the dogs; nor was it till after the fireworks were let off and the traitor consumed that they crept back again. It was school-night, but the men were up for fun, so gave the Doctor a holiday.”

ESQUIMAUX CATCHING SEALS.

On November 15th Captain Young shot the fiftieth seal, an event which was celebrated by the drinking of the bottle of champagne which had been reserved for the occasion of reaching the North Water—an unhappy failure, the more keenly felt from being so very unexpected. On November 16th “Petersen saw and fired a shot into a narwhal which brought the blubber out. When most Arctic creatures are wounded in the water, blubber more frequently appears than blood, particularly if the wound is superficial; it spreads over the surface of the water like oil. Bills of fare vary much in Greenland. I have inquired of Petersen, and he tells me that the Greenland Esquimaux (there are many Greenlanders of Danish origin) are not agreed as to which of their animals affords the most delicious food; some of them prefer reindeer venison, others think more favourably of young dog, the flesh of which, he asserts, is ‘just like the beef of sheep.’ He says a Danish captain, who had acquired the taste, provided some for his guests, and they praised his mutton! After dinner he sent for the skin of the animal, which was no other than a large red dog! This occurred in Greenland, where his Danish guests had resided for many years, far removed from European mutton. Baked puppy is a real delicacy all over Polynesia; at the Sandwich Islands I was once invited to a feast, and had to feign disappointment as well as I could when told that puppy was so extremely scarce it could not be procured in time, and therefore sucking-pig was substituted!”

On December 2nd an event occurred which cast a gloom over the little party. One of the engineers, Mr. Scott, had fallen down a hatchway, and died shortly afterwards from the effect of internal injuries then received. “A funeral at sea,” says M’Clintock, “is always peculiarly impressive; but this evening, at seven o’clock, as we gathered around the sad remains of poor Scott, reposing under a Union Jack, [pg 221]and read the Burial Service by the light of lanterns, the effect could not fail to awaken very serious emotions.

A NATURAL ARCH IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

“The greater part of the Church Service was read on board, under shelter of the housing; the body was then placed upon a sledge, and drawn by the messmates of the deceased to a short distance from the ship, where a hole through the ice had been cut; it was then ‘committed to the deep,’ and the service completed. What a scene it was! I shall never forget it. The lonely Fox, almost buried in snow, completely isolated from the habitable world, her colours half-mast high, and bell mournfully tolling; our little procession slowly marching over the rough surface of the frozen sea, guided by lanterns and direction-posts, amid the dark and dreary depth of Arctic winter; the death-like stillness, the intense cold, and threatening aspect of a murky overcast sky; and all this heightened by one of those strange lunar phenomena which are but seldom seen even here—a complete halo encircling the moon, through which passed a horizontal band of pale light that encompassed the heavens; above the moon appeared the segments of two other halos, and there were also mock moons, to the number of six. The misty atmosphere lent a very ghastly hue to this singular display, which lasted for rather more than an hour.

“27th. Our Christmas was a very cheerful, merry one. The men were supplied with several additional articles, such as hams, plum-puddings, preserved gooseberries and apples, nuts, sweetmeats, and Burton ale. After Divine Service they decorated the lower deck with flags, and made an immense display of food. The officers came down with me to see their preparations. We were really astonished! Their mess-tables were laid out like the counters in a confectioner’s shop, with apple and gooseberry tarts, plum and sponge cakes in pyramids, besides various other unknown puffs, cakes, and loaves of all sizes and shapes. We bake all our own bread, and excellent it is. In the background were nicely-browned hams, meat-pies, cheeses, and other substantial articles. Rum-and-water in wine-glasses and plum cake were handed to us. We wished them a happy Christmas, and complimented them on their taste and spirit in getting up such a display. Our silken sledge-banners had been borrowed for the occasion, and were regarded with deference and peculiar pride.

“In the evening the officers were enticed down amongst the men again, and at a late hour I was requested, as a great favour, to come down and see how much they were enjoying themselves. I found them in the highest good-humour with themselves and all the world. They were perfectly sober, and singing songs, each in his turn. I expressed great satisfaction at having seen them enjoying themselves so much and so rationally; I could therefore the better describe it to Lady Franklin, who was deeply interested in everything relating to them. I drank their healths, and hoped our position next year would be more suitable for our purpose. We all joined in drinking the healths of Lady Franklin and Miss Cracroft, and amid the acclamations which followed I returned to my cabin, immensely gratified by such an exhibition of genuine good-feeling, such veneration for Lady Franklin, and such loyalty to the cause of the expedition. It was very pleasant also that they had taken the most cheering view of our future prospects. I verily believe I was the happiest individual on board that happy evening.” New Year’s Day was a second edition of Christmas. At midnight on December 31st the arrival of 1858 was announced by the band, consisting of two flutes and an accordion, striking up at the cabin door. It was accompanied by other music from frying-pans, gridirons, kettles, pots, and pans, in the hands of the crew, who were determined to have as much fun as possible under the circumstances.

The monotonous winter passed on, and still the Fox remained enclosed in the pack, although occasional disruptions of the ice occurred, some of them of an alarming nature. The field one day cracked within ten yards of the ship, and on another occasion M’Clintock, returning from a visit to an iceberg, was cut off close to the vessel by the sudden opening of a long streak of water, and had to run a considerable distance before he found a crossing place, where the jagged edges of the floe met. The little yacht bore out bravely, although one day hurled up at bows and the next at stern. Strong gales now and again blew furiously, and drifting, whirling snow prevented them from seeing or hearing a few yards off. On March 25th, with a strong north-west wind blowing, the ship rocked in the ice and rubbed against it, straining and groaning in a manner which caused some alarm. The boats, provisions, sledges, knapsacks, and other equipments, were kept ready for a hasty departure. As long as their friendly barrier lasted there was little cause for fear; but who could tell the moment when it might be demolished, and the ship crack like a nutshell [pg 223]among the grinding, crashing ice masses? On the 27th and 28th strong gales broke up the ice to some extent, and in two days the Fox drifted thirty-nine miles. But the story would be as monotonous in the telling as was their life in reality were we to detail it day by day. Suffice it to say, on April 24th, after they had drifted 1,385 miles, the vessel, although not by any means clear of the ice, which was dashed against it by the swell, and which often choked their screw and brought the engines to a dead stop, was out of imminent danger. Their escape had been little short of miraculous, and a sailing vessel, however strong, would probably never have so successfully braved the dangers of the pack as did the little steam-yacht Fox. Its commander writes feelingly on the 26th:—“At sea! How am I to describe the events of the last two days? It has pleased God to accord to us a deliverance in which His merciful protection contrasts—how strongly!—with our own utter helplessness; as if the successive mercies vouchsafed to us during our long winter and mysterious ice-drift had been concentrated and repeated in a single act. Thus forcibly does His great goodness come home to the mind!” Their troubles, anxieties, and doubts, were over, and two days later they were safely anchored off Holsteinborg, enjoying the hospitalities of the Danes.

M’Clintock refers, àpropos of his own experience, to a whaler, whose vessel, nipped in the ice, was lost in little less time than it takes to tell the story. “It was a beautiful morning; they had almost reached the North Water, and were anticipating a very successful voyage; the steward had just reported breakfast ready, when Captain Deuchars, seeing the floes closing together ahead of the ship, remained on deck to see her pass safely between them. But they closed too quickly; the vessel was almost through when the points of ice caught her sides, abreast of the mizen-mast, and, passing through, held the wreck up for a few minutes, barely long enough for the crew to escape and save their boats! Poor Deuchars thus suddenly lost his breakfast and his ship; within ten minutes her royal yards disappeared beneath the surface.” The vessel was a strong one, supposed to be exactly adapted for whaling, but the powerful nip she received was too much for her. The Fox, in spite of her long imprisonment, was far more fortunate.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Last Traces.

M’Clintock’s Summer Explorations—The Second Winter—Sledging Parties—Snow Huts—Near the Magnetic Pole—Meeting with Esquimaux—Franklin Relics obtained—Objection of Esquimaux to Speak of the Dead—Hobson’s Discovery of the Franklin Records—Fate of the Erebus and Terror—Large Quantity of Relics Purchased from the Natives—The Skeleton on the Beach—Fate of Crozier’s Party—“As they Fell they Died”—The Record at Point Victory—Boat with Human Remains Discovered—The Wrecks never Seen—Return of the Fox.

During the summer of 1858 M’Clintock made several detailed examinations of Eclipse Sound, Pond’s Bay, Peel Strait, Regent’s Inlet, and Bellot Strait, without discovering the faintest trace of the lost party. The Fox was again to winter in the Arctic—this time, however, under favourable circumstances—Port Kennedy, a harbour of Bellot Strait, being [pg 224]selected. The early winter of 1858-9 passed away without any occurrences of great importance, the ship being safely placed and the crew still well provisioned. One important member of the expedition, Mr. Brand, the chief engineer, died of apoplexy on November 7th, and, in consequence, M’Clintock himself had, at a later period, not merely to navigate the vessel, but to manage the engines.

CAPTAIN (AFTERWARDS SIR LEOPOLD) M’CLINTOCK.

Again their Christmas was spent in the happiest manner, and, says M’Clintock, “with a degree of loyalty to the good old English custom at once spirited and refreshing. All the good things which could possibly be collected together appeared upon the snow-white deal tables of the men as the officers and myself walked, by invitation, round the lower deck. Venison, beer, and a fresh supply of clay pipes, appeared to be the most prized luxuries; but the abundance and variety of the eatables, tastefully laid out, were such as well might support the delusion which all seemed desirous of imposing upon themselves—that they were in a land of plenty—in fact, all but at home! We contributed a large cheese and some preserves, and candles superseded the ordinary smoky lamps. With so many comforts, and the existence of so much genuine good feeling, their evening was a joyous one, enlivened also by songs and music.” Without, the scene was widely different. A fierce nor’-wester howled through the rigging, the snow-drift rustled swiftly past, no star appeared through the oppressive gloom, and the thermometer varied between 76° and 80° [pg 225]below the freezing point. At one time it was impossible to visit the magnetic observatory, although only 210 yards distant, and with a rope stretched along, breast high, upon poles the whole way. After making all proper arrangements, M’Clintock and Young started out on February 17th, in different directions, with sledges and searching parties. The cold was intense: on the 18th the thermometer registered 48° (80° below freezing); and even the poor dogs felt the effects, their feet becoming lame and sore in consequence of the hardness of the snow.

AN ESQUIMAUX SLEDGE AND TEAM OF DOGS.

We are now approaching the dénoûment—the climax of the painful story which tells us of the sad fate of two whole ships’ companies amid the perils and horror of the frozen seas. We cannot do better than present the narrative for the most part in the graphic words of M’Clintock. “On the 1st of March,” he writes, “we halted to encamp at about the position of the Magnetic Pole, for no cairn remains to mark the spot. I had almost concluded that my journey would prove to be a work of labour in vain, because hitherto no traces of Esquimaux had been met with, and in consequence of the reduced state of our provisions and the wretched condition of the poor dogs—six out of the fifteen being quite useless—I could only advance one more march.

“But we had done nothing more than look ahead; when we halted and turned round, great indeed was my surprise and joy to see four men walking after us. Petersen and I immediately buckled on our revolvers, and advanced to meet them. The natives halted, made fast their dogs, laid down their spears, and received us without any evidence of surprise....

“We gave them to understand that we were anxious to barter with them, and very cautiously approached the real object of our visit. A naval button upon one of their dresses afforded the opportunity; it came, they said, from some white people who were starved upon an island where there are salmon (that is, in a river), and that the iron of which their knives were made came from the same place. One of these men said he had been to the island to obtain wood and iron, but none of them had seen the white men. Another man had been to ‘Ei-wil-lik’ (Repulse Bay), and counted on his fingers seven individuals of Rae’s party whom he remembered having seen....

“Despite the gale which howled outside, we spent a comfortable night in our roomy hut.

“Next morning the entire village population arrived, amounting to about forty-five souls, from aged people to infants in arms, and bartering commenced very briskly. First of all we purchased all the relics of the lost expedition, consisting of six silver spoons and forks, a silver medal the property of Mr. A. McDonald, assistant surgeon, part of a gold chain, several buttons, and knives made of the iron and wood of the wreck; also bows and arrows constructed of materials obtained from the same source. Having secured these, we purchased a few frozen salmon, some seal’s blubber, and venison, but could not prevail upon them to part with more than one of their fine dogs. One of their sledges was made of two stout pieces of wood, which might have been a boat’s keel.

“All the old people recollected the visit of the Victory. An old man told me his name was ‘Ooblooria.’ I recollected that Sir James Ross had employed a man of that name as a guide, and reminded him of it; he was, in fact, the same individual, and he inquired after Sir James by his Esquimaux name of ‘Agglugga.’

“I inquired after the man who was furnished with a wooden leg by the carpenter of the Victory; no direct answer was given, but his daughter was pointed out to me. Petersen explained to me that they do not like alluding in any way to the dead, and that, as my question was not answered, it was certain the man was no longer amongst the living.”

M’Clintock returned to the Fox, having travelled 420 miles in their twenty-five days’ absence, and having also completed the survey of the coast line of continental America, thereby adding about 120 miles to our charts. On reaching the ship the crew was at once assembled, and the information obtained laid before the men, M’Clintock pointing out that one of the ships still remained unaccounted for, and that they must carry out to the full all the projected lines of search.

After several sledge journeys to the various depôts previously made, to collect provisions deposited there, the search was resumed, M’Clintock and Hobson leading two parties in different directions.

On their return M’Clintock writes as follows, under date of June 24th:—“I have visited Montreal Island, completed the exploration and circuit of King William’s Island, passing on foot through the only feasible North-west Passage; but all this is as nothing to the interest attached to the Franklin records picked up by Hobson, and now safe in my possession. We now know the fate of the Erebus and Terror. The sole object of our voyage has at length been completed, and we anxiously await the time when escape from these bleak regions will become practicable.”

On April 20th two families of the same people previously encountered at Cape Victoria were found in their snow huts upon the ice. M’Clintock says:—“After much anxious inquiry we learned that two ships had been seen by the natives of King William’s Island: one of them was seen to sink in deep water, and nothing was obtained from her, a circumstance at which they expressed much regret; but the other was forced on shore by the ice, where they suppose she still remains, but is much broken. From this ship they have obtained most of their wood, &c., and Oot-loo-lik is the name of the place where she grounded.

“Formerly many natives lived there, now very few remain. All the natives have obtained plenty of wood.

“The most of this information was given us by the young man who sold the knife. Old Oo-na-lee, who drew the rough chart for me in March to show where the ship sank, now answered our questions respecting the one forced on shore; not a syllable about her did he mention on the former occasion, although we asked whether they knew of only one ship. I think he would willingly have kept us in ignorance of a wreck being upon their coasts, and that the young man unwittingly made it known to us.

“The latter also told us that the body of a man was found on board the ship; that he must have been a very large man, and had long teeth: this is all he recollected having been told, for he was quite a child at the time.

“They both told us it was in the fall of the year—that is, August or September—when the ships were destroyed; that all the white people went away to the ‘large river,’ [pg 227]taking a boat or boats with them, and that in the following winter their bones were found there.”[38]

On May 7th, to avoid snow-blindness, the party commenced night marching. Crossing over from Matty Island towards the King William’s Island shore, they continued their march southward until midnight, when they had the good fortune to arrive at an inhabited snow village. They halted at a little distance, and pitched their tent, the better to secure small articles from being stolen whilst they bartered with them. M’Clintock purchased from them six pieces of silver plate bearing the crests or initials of Franklin, Crozier, Fairholme, and McDonald; they also sold them bows and arrows of English woods, uniform and other buttons, and offered a heavy sledge made of two short stout pieces of curved wood, which no mere boat could have furnished them with; but this, of course, could not be taken away; the silver spoons and forks were readily sold for four needles each. The narrative continues:—

“Having obtained all the relics they possessed, I purchased some seal’s flesh, blubber, frozen venison, dried and frozen salmon, and sold some of my puppies. They told us it was five days’ journey to the wreck—one day up the inlet still in sight, and four days overland: this would carry them to the western coast of King William’s Land; they added that but little now remained of the wreck which was accessible, their countrymen having carried almost everything away. In answer to an inquiry, they said she was without masts; the question gave rise to some laughter amongst them, and they spoke to each other about fire, from which Petersen thought they had burnt the masts through close to the deck in order to get them down.

“There had been many books, they said, but all have long ago been destroyed by the weather. The ship was forced on shore in the fall of the year by ice. She had not been visited during this past winter, and an old woman and a boy were shown to us who were the last to visit the wreck; they said they had been at it during the winter of 1857-8.

“Petersen questioned the woman closely, and she seemed anxious to give all the information in her power. She said many of the white men dropped by the way as they went to the Great River; that some of them were buried and some were not. They did not themselves witness this, but discovered their bodies during the winter following.”

Having examined Montreal and King William’s Island, they started on the return journey. After three weeks’ travel M’Clintock continues:—“We were now upon the shore along which the retreating crews must have marched. My sledges, of course, travelled upon the sea-ice close along the shore; and although the depth of snow which covered the beach deprived us of almost every hope, yet we kept a very sharp look-out for traces; nor were we unsuccessful. Shortly after midnight of the 25th of May, when slowly walking along a gravel ridge near the beach, which the winds kept partially bare of snow, I [pg 228]came upon a human skeleton, partly exposed, with here and there a few fragments of clothing appearing through the snow. The skeleton—now perfectly bleached—was lying upon its face, the limbs and smaller bones either dissevered or gnawed away by small animals.

“A most careful examination of the spot was, of course, made, the snow removed, and every scrap of clothing gathered up. A pocket-book afforded strong grounds for hope that some information might be subsequently obtained respecting the unfortunate owner and the calamitous march of the lost crews, but at the time it was frozen hard. The substance of that which we gleaned upon the spot may thus be summed up:—

CAPE YORK, MELVILLE BAY.

“This victim was a young man, slightly built, and perhaps above the common height; the dress appeared to be that of a steward or officer’s servant, the loose bow-knot in which his neck-handkerchief was tied not being used by officers or seamen. In every particular the dress confirmed our conjectures as to his rank or office in the late expedition—the blue jacket with slashed sleeves and braided edging, and the pilot-cloth great-coat with plain covered buttons. We found a clothes-brush near and a horn pocket-comb. This poor man seems to have selected the bare ridge-top as affording the least tiresome walking, and to have fallen on his face in the position in which we found him.

“It was a melancholy truth that the old woman spoke when she said, ‘They fell down and died as they walked along.’

“I do not think the Esquimaux had discovered this skeleton, or they would have carried off the brush and comb. Superstition prevents them from disturbing their own dead, but would not keep them from appropriating the property of the white man, if in any way useful to them. Dr. Rae obtained a piece of flannel marked ‘F. D. V., 1845,’ from the Esquimaux of Boothia or Repulse Bay; it had doubtless been a part of poor Des Vœux’s garments.”

It is impossible with the space at command to give in detailed form the interesting narrative of M’Clintock’s and Hobson’s careful explorations. “The Voyage of the Fox” should [pg 229]be read in the original by all interested in Arctic adventure, for the modest and graphic account of it given by M’Clintock bears the impress of absolute truth, without the slightest attempt at fine writing or exaggeration.

RELICS BROUGHT BACK BY THE FRANKLIN SEARCH EXPEDITION.

About twelve miles from Cape Herschel M’Clintock found a small cairn, built by Hobson’s party, and containing a note for the commander. He had reached this, his extreme point, six days previously, without having seen anything of the wreck or of natives, but he had found a record—the record, so ardently sought for, of the Franklin expedition—at Point Victory, on the north-west coast of King William’s Land. It read as follows:—

“ ‘28th May, 1847.—H.M. ships Erebus and Terror wintered in the ice in lat. 70° 05′ N., long. 98° 23′ W.

“ ‘Having wintered, in 1846-7, at Beechey Island, in lat. 74° 43′ 28″ N., long. 91° 39′ 15″ W., after having ascended Wellington Channel to lat. 77°, and returned by the west side of Cornwallis Island.

“ ‘All well.

“ ‘Party, consisting of two officers and six men, left the ships on Monday, 24th May, 1847.

“‘Gm. Gore, Lieut.

“‘Chas. F. Des Vœux, Mate.’

“Had this been all, it would have been the record of a grand success. But, alas! round the margin of the paper upon which Lieutenant Gore, in 1847, wrote those words of hope and promise another had subsequently written the following words:—

“ ‘April 25th, 1848.—H.M. ships Terror and Erebus were deserted on the 22nd April, five leagues NNW. of this, having been beset since 12th September, 1846. The officers and crews, consisting of 105 souls, under the command of Captain F. R. M. Crozier, landed here in lat. 69° 37′ 42″, long. 98° 41′ W. Sir John Franklin died on the 11th June, 1847; and the total loss by deaths in the expedition has been, to this date, nine officers and fifteen men.

“ ‘(Signed) “ ‘F. R. M. Crozier, “ ‘Captain, and Senior Officer.	“ ‘(Signed) “ ‘James Fitzjames, “ ‘Captain H.M.S. Erebus.
“ ‘And start (on) to-morrow, 26th, for Back’s Fish River.’[39]

“In the short space of twelve months how mournful had become the history of Franklin’s expedition! how changed from the cheerful ‘All well’ of Graham Gore! The spring of 1847 found them within ninety miles of the known sea off the coast of America; and to men who had already, in two seasons, sailed over 500 miles of previously unexplored waters, how confident must they have then felt that that forthcoming navigable season of 1847 would see their ships pass over so short an intervening space! It was ruled otherwise. Within a month after Lieutenant Gore placed the record on Point Victory the much-loved leader of the expedition, Sir John Franklin, was dead; and the following spring found Captain Crozier, upon whom the command had devolved, at King William’s Land, endeavouring to save his starving men, 105 souls in all, from a terrible death, by retreating to the Hudson’s Bay territories up the Back or Great Fish River.

“A sad tale 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. We well know that the Erebus and Terror were only provisioned up to July, 1848.”

M’Clintock reached the western extremity of King William’s Island on May 29th, and on the following day encamped alongside a deserted boat of considerable size, which had already been examined by Hobson, who had left a note. A quantity of tattered clothing, &c., remained near it.

“But,” says M’Clintock, “all these were after observations; there was that in the boat that transfixed us with awe. It was portions of two human skeletons. One was that of a slight young person; the other of a large, strongly-made, middle-aged man. The former was found in the bow of the boat, but in too much disturbed a state to enable Hobson to judge whether the sufferer had died there; large and powerful animals, probably wolves, had destroyed much of this skeleton, which may have been that of an officer. Near it we found the fragment of a pair of worked slippers.... Besides these slippers there were a pair of small, strong, shooting half-boots. The other skeleton was in a somewhat more perfect state[40], and was enveloped with clothes and furs; it lay across the boat, under the after thwart. Close beside it were found five watches; and there were two double-barrelled guns—one barrel in each loaded and cocked—standing muzzle [pg 231]upwards against the boat’s side. It may be imagined with what deep interest these sad relics were scrutinised, and how anxiously every fragment of clothing was turned over in search of pockets and pocket-books, journals, or even names. Five or six small books were found, all of them Scriptural or devotional works, except the ‘Vicar of Wakefield.’ One little book, ‘Christian Melodies,’ bore an inscription on the title-page from the donor to G. G. (Graham Gore?). A small Bible contained numerous marginal notes and whole passages underlined. Besides these books, the covers of a New Testament and Prayer Book were found.

“Amongst an amazing quantity of clothing there were seven or eight pairs of boots of various kinds—cloth winter boots, sea-boots, heavy ankle-boots, and strong shoes. I noted that there were silk handkerchiefs—black, white, and figured—towels, soap, sponge, tooth-brush, and hair-combs; macintosh gun-cover marked outside with paint A 12, and lined with black cloth. Besides these articles we found twine, nails, saws, files, bristles, wax-ends, sailmakers’ palms, powder, bullets, shot, cartridges, wads, leather cartridge-case, knives—clasp and dinner ones—needle and thread cases, slow-match, several bayonet-scabbards cut down into knife-sheaths, two rolls of sheet-lead, and, in short, a quantity of articles of one description and another truly astonishing in variety, and such as, for the most part, modern sledge-travellers in these regions would consider a mere accumulation of dead weight, but slightly useful, and very likely to break down the strength of the sledge crews.

“The only provisions we could find 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. A portion of tobacco, and an empty pemmican-tin capable of containing twenty-two pounds weight, were discovered. The tin was marked with an E; it had probably belonged to the Erebus. None of the fuel originally brought from the ships remained in or about the boat, but there was no lack of it, for a drift-tree was lying on the beach close at hand, and had the party been in need of fuel they would have used the paddles and bottom boards of the boat.” In the after part of the boat twenty-six pieces of plate—spoons and forks—were found, bearing the crests or initials of Franklin and his officers. The reader can see all these interesting relics at Greenwich Hospital, and he will hardly examine them without dropping a tear at the remembrances they recall.

Although M’Clintock and Hobson put forth almost superhuman effort to discover the wrecks, they were never found, and the probability is that they had broken up and were carried to sea at the disruption of the ice. After making every attempt possible to discover further traces of the lost party, M’Clintock and the rest returned to the Fox. On August 10th the vessel’s bows were pointed homewards, and forty days later she reached the English Channel, after one of the most remarkable and successful Arctic voyages ever made.

The narrative is finished. It records one of the saddest tragedies of modern days. Amidst all the perils of wreck, and fire, and flood, there has generally been a loophole of escape for some few; here every man of those gallant crews perished, the larger part while helplessly endeavouring to reach a haven of safety. “They fell down and died as they walked along.”

The Arctic medal was awarded to all the officers and crew of the Fox, and one of the first uses made by the men of their pay was to purchase for Captain M’Clintock a handsome gold chronometer. That brave and successful explorer was deservedly fêted and honoured wherever he went, and, as most readers are aware, was subsequently knighted.

CHAPTER XXV.

Kane’s Memorable Expedition.

Dr. Kane’s Expedition—His short but eventful Career—Departure of the Advance—Dangers of the Voyage—Grinding Ice—Among the Bergs—A Close Shave—Nippings—The Brig towed from the Ice-beach—Smith’s Sound—Rensselaer Harbour—Winter Quarters—Return of an Exploring Party—Fearful Sufferings—To the Rescue—Saved—Curious Effects of Intense Cold.

Although the expedition about to be described left the United States in 1852—several years before M’Clintock’s memorable voyage—and although it was organised especially for the Franklin search, its consideration has been deferred till now, in order not to interfere with the narrative of the discoveries relative to the lost expedition. Dr. Kane was not, indeed, to share with Rae and M’Clintock the honour of determining the fate of Franklin and his brave companions, but he was, and long must be, destined to hold a foremost place among the great Arctic explorers of all ages, while his work is one of the classics of Arctic literature.[41]

Dr. Kane was in the field of action he eventually chose one of the most ardent and enthusiastic workers; indeed, the untiring energy and perseverance with which he laboured in the face of all difficulties entitle him to be considered a model explorer. His short life had been full of adventure. Born on February 3rd, 1820, he became at a very early age an assistant-surgeon in the United States navy, and visited most parts of the world, including China, India, Ceylon, and the coasts of Africa. At a station of the latter he was stricken down with “coast fever,” and never entirely recovered from the effects. He was engaged in the Mexican war with the United States, and succeeded in passing through the enemy’s lines with an oral despatch to the American head-quarters, when several others had failed. On the voyage from New Orleans to Mexico he was shipwrecked, and was afterwards laid low with typhus fever in the latter country. His first visit to the Arctic was, as already mentioned, in company with Lieutenant De Haven. He died at Havana, shortly after his return from the expedition we are about to record. His slight frame had been too severely tested; the flesh was weaker than the spirit; and at the early age of thirty-seven he passed away, leaving behind a reputation scarcely second to that of any Arctic explorer. Ambitious always, he was nevertheless one of the most thoughtful and humane of commanders. When his men were almost starving, he travelled, sometimes alone, long distances on the ice and snow for succour and relief; when nearly every member [pg 233]of his party was stricken down with scurvy, he nursed, cooked, and cared for them, oft-times when enfeebled, downhearted, and scarcely able to stand himself. His naval education had made him appreciate the value of discipline, but where humanity was concerned self-abnegation was his leading characteristic. Kane could most assuredly be termed a practical Christian. All honour to his memory!

WHALE SOUND, GREENLAND

Dr. Kane received special orders in December, 1852, from the then Secretary of the United States navy, “to conduct an expedition to the Arctic seas in search of Sir John Franklin.” The noble-hearted American merchant, Mr. Grinnell of New York, who had organised De Haven’s expedition, placed a brig, the Advance, at his disposal. Mr. Peabody, the American benefactor of the London poor, contributed handsomely to the outfit, which was aided by several scientific institutions. The United States Government detailed ten officers and men from the navy, which with seven others made up the full complement of the expedition. Leaving New York on May 30th, 1853, South Greenland was reached on July 1st. Several Danish settlements were visited on the way north, where they received much hospitality, and obtained skins, fur clothing, and native dogs.

As we have already seen, Baffin was the discoverer of Smith’s Sound. From the year 1616, the date of his visit, until Kane explored it, no European or American had sailed over its waters. The voyage of the Advance thither was one of peril and difficulty. [pg 234]Storm succeeded storm; the little brig was constantly beset and nearly crushed in the ice, and sometimes heeled over to such an extent that it seemed a miracle when she righted. Dr. Kane’s description of some of the dangers through which they passed is very graphic.

“At seven in the morning we were close on to the piling masses. We dropped our heaviest anchor with the desperate hope of winding the brig; but there was no withstanding the ice-torrent that followed us. We had only time to fasten a spar as a buoy to the chain, and let her slip. So went our best bower.

“Down we went upon the gale again, helplessly scraping along a lee of ice seldom less than thirty feet thick; one floe, measured by a line as we tried to fasten to it, more than forty. I had seen such ice only once before, and never in such rapid motion. One upturned mass rose above our gunwale, smashing in our bulwarks, and depositing half a ton of ice in a lump upon our decks. Our staunch little brig bore herself through all this wild adventure as if she had a charmed life.

“But a new enemy came in sight ahead. Directly in our way, just beyond the line of floe-ice against which we were alternately sliding and thumping, was a group of bergs. We had no power to avoid them; the only question was, whether we were to be dashed in pieces against them, or whether they might not offer us some providential nook of refuge against the storm. But as we neared them we perceived that they were at some distance from the floe-edge, and separated from it by an interval of open water. Our hopes rose as the gale drove us towards this passage and into it; and we were ready to exult when, from some unexplained cause—probably an eddy of the wind against the lofty ice-walls—we lost our headway. Almost at the same moment we saw that the bergs were not at rest, that with a momentum of their own they were bearing down upon the other ice, and that it must be our fate to be crushed between the two.

“Just then a broad sconce-piece, or low water-washed berg, came driving up from the southward. The thought flashed upon me of one of our escapes in Melville Bay; and as the sconce moved rapidly alongside us, M’Garry managed to plant an anchor on its slope and hold on to it by a whale line. It was an anxious moment. Our noble tow-horse, whiter than the pale horse that seemed to be pursuing us, hauled us bravely on, the spray dashing over his windward flanks, and his forehead ploughing up the lesser ice as if in scorn. The bergs encroached upon us as we advanced; our channel narrowed to a width of perhaps forty feet; we braced the yards to clear the impending ice-walls.... We passed clear, but it was a close shave—so close that our port quarter-boat would have been crushed if we had not taken it in from the davits—and found ourselves under the lee of a berg, in a comparative open lead. Never did heart-tried men acknowledge with more gratitude their merciful deliverance from a wretched death.” And so the narrative continues—a long series of hairbreadth escapes from the nippings and crushing of the ice. Kane says at this juncture:—

“During the whole of the scenes I have been trying to describe I could not help being struck by the composed and manly demeanour of my comrades. The turmoil of ice under a heavy sea often conveys the impression of danger when the reality is absent; but in this fearful passage the parting of our hawsers, the loss of our anchors, the abrupt crushing of our stoven bulwarks, and the actual deposit of ice upon our decks, would have tried the [pg 235]nerves of the most experienced ice-man. All—officers and men—worked alike. Upon each occasion of collision with the ice which formed our lee coast, efforts were made to carry out lines, and some narrow escapes were incurred by the zeal of the parties leading them into positions of danger. Mr. Bonsall avoided being crushed by leaping to a floating fragment; and no less than four of our men at one time were carried down by the drift, and could only be recovered by a relief party after the gale had subsided.

“As our brig, borne on by the ice, commenced her ascent of the berg, the suspense was oppressive. The immense blocks piled against her, range upon range, pressing themselves under her keel and throwing her over upon her side, till, urged by the successive accumulations, she rose slowly, and as if with convulsive efforts, along the sloping wall. Still there was no relaxation of the impelling force. Shock after shock, jarring her to her very centre, she continued to mount steadily on her precarious cradle. But for the groaning of her timbers and the heavy sough of the floes we might have heard a pin drop; and then as she settled down into her old position, quietly taking her place among the broken rubbish, there was a deep breathing silence, as though all were waiting for some signal before the clamour of congratulation and comment should burst forth.” After the storm had abated, the crew went on the ice-beach and towed the vessel a considerable distance, being harnessed up, as Kane says, “like mules on a canal.” Shortly afterwards a council was called to consider the feasibility of proceeding northward or returning southward to find a wintering place, and the latter idea was the more favourably received. After some further discussion it was resolved to cross the bay in which they now were to its northern headland, and thence despatch sledging parties in quest of a suitable spot to “dock” the brig. On the way across the vessel grounded and heeled over, throwing men out of their berths and setting the cabin-deck on fire by upsetting the stove. She was surrounded with ice, which piled up in immense heaps. These alarming experiences were repeated on several occasions. Dr. Kane meantime took a whale-boat, well sheathed with tin, ahead of the brig, and after about twenty-four hours came to a solid ice-shelf or table, clinging round the base of the cliffs. They hauled up the boat and then prepared for a sledge journey. The rough and difficult nature of their icy route may be inferred from the fact that it took them five days to make a direct distance of forty miles, while they had travelled twice that distance in reality. They then arrived at a bay into which a large river fell. This Kane considers the largest stream of North Greenland; its width at the mouth was three-fourths of a mile. Its course was afterwards pursued to an interior glacier, from the base of which it was found to issue in numerous streams. By the banks of this river they encamped, lulled by the unusual music of running waters. “Here,” says Kane, “protected from the frost by the infiltration of the melted snows, and fostered by the reverberation of solar heat from the rocks, we met a flower growth, which, though drearily Arctic in its type, was rich in variety and colouring. Amid festuca and other tufted grasses twinkled the purple lychnis, and the white star of the chickweed; and, not without its pleasing associations, I recognised a solitary hesperis—the Arctic representative of the wallflowers of home.” After a careful examination of the bays and anchorages, Rensselaer Harbour, the spot where he had left the Advance, was chosen for their winter quarters, and a storehouse and observatory were erected ashore.

The return of an exploring party, which had suffered severely, is well described by Kane. “We were at work cheerfully, sewing away at the skins of some mocassins by the blaze of our lamps, when, towards midnight, we heard the noise of steps above, and the next minute Sontag, Ohlsen, and Petersen, came down into the cabin. Their manner startled me even more than their unexpected appearance on board. They were swollen and haggard, and hardly able to speak.

“Their story was a fearful one. They had left their companions in the ice, risking their own lives to bring us the news. Brooks, Baker, Wilson, and Pierre, were all lying frozen and disabled. Where? They could not tell. Somewhere in among the hummocks to the north and east. It was drifting heavily round them when they parted. Irish Tom had stayed by to feed and care for the others, but the chances were sorely against them. It was in vain to question them further. They had evidently travelled a great distance, for they were sinking with fatigue and hunger, and could hardly be rallied enough to tell us the direction in which they had come.”

DR. KANE.

Kane’s promptness saved the party. A sledge was hastily loaded, Ohlsen deposited upon it, wrapped in furs, and an immediate departure made. The thermometer stood at 76° below freezing. For sixteen hours they struggled on, till at length they came to [pg 237]a place where Ohlsen had to acknowledge he was quite “at sea,” and could not recognise the landmarks. Kane continues:—“Pushing ahead of the party, and clambering over some rugged ice-piles, I came to a long level floe, which I thought might probably have attracted the eyes of weary men in circumstances like our own. It was a light conjecture, but it was enough to turn the scale, for there was no other to balance it. I gave orders to abandon the sledge, and disperse in search of footmarks. We raised our tent, placed our pemmican in cache, except a small allowance for each man to carry on his person, and poor Ohlsen, now just able to keep his legs, was liberated from his bag. The thermometer had fallen by this time to minus 49° 3′ and the wind was setting in sharp from the north-west. It was out of the question to halt; it required brisk exercise to keep us from freezing. The men ‘extended’ in skirmishing order, but kept nervously closing up; several were seized with trembling fits, and Dr. Kane fainted twice from the effect of the intense cold. At length a sledge track was discovered, which followed, brought them in sight of a small American flag fluttering from a hummock, and lower down a little masonic banner, hanging from a tent-pole hardly above the drift. It was the camp of our disabled comrades; we reached it after an unbroken march of twenty-one hours.

“The little tent was nearly covered.... As I crawled in, and coming upon the darkness, heard before me the burst of welcome gladness that came from the four poor fellows stretched on their backs, and then for the first time the cheer outside, my weakness and my gratitude together almost overcame me. They had expected me; they were sure I would come!” The tent only being capable of holding eight, while there were fifteen souls in all, they had to take “watch and watch” by turns. When sufficiently rested and refreshed, the sick men were sewn up in reindeer skins and placed on the sledge. Although they left all superfluous articles behind, the load was eleven hundred pounds. “We made by vigorous pulls and lifts nearly a mile an hour.... Almost without premonition, we all became aware of an alarming failure of our energies. I was of course familiar with the benumbed and almost lethargic sensation of extreme cold.... But I had treated the sleepy comfort of freezing as something like the embellishment of romance. I had evidence now to the contrary.

“Bonsall and Morton, two of our stoutest men, came to me, begging permission to sleep. ‘They were not cold, the wind did not enter them now; a little sleep was all they wanted.’ Presently Hans was found nearly stiff under a drift, and Thomas, bolt upright, had his eyes closed, and could hardly articulate. At last John Blake threw himself into the snow, and refused to rise. They did not complain of feeling cold, but it was in vain that I wrestled, boxed, ran, argued, jeered, or reprimanded—an immediate halt could not be avoided.” The tent was pitched with much difficulty, and then Kane with one man pushed on to a tent and cache left the previous day, his object being to prepare some hot food before the rest arrived. He continues:—“I cannot tell how long it took us to make the nine miles, for we were in a strange kind of stupor, and had little apprehension of time. It was probably about four hours. We kept ourselves awake by imposing on each other a continued articulation of words; they must have been incoherent enough! I recall these hours as amongst the most wretched I have ever [pg 238]gone through. We were neither of us in our right senses, and retained a very confused recollection of what preceded our arrival at the tent. We both of us, however, remember a bear who walked leisurely before us, and tore up as he went a jumper that Mr. M’Garry had improvidently thrown off the day before. He tore it into shreds and rolled it into a ball, but never offered to interfere with our progress. I remember this, and with it a confused sentiment that our tent and buffalo robe might probably share the same fate.” This was a really wonderful example of the almost intoxicating and bewildering effect of intense cold, frequently noted by arctic explorers. They were dazed, and walked as in a dream. But they arrived safely at the tent, and by the time the others came up had a good steaming pemmican soup ready. When they again started, Kane tried the effect of brief three-minute naps in the snow, the men taking it in turns to wake each other, and he considered the result satisfactory. After many a halt they reached the brig. Two of the men had to undergo amputation of parts of the foot, and two died, in spite of unremitting care. The searching party had been out seventy-two hours, during which they had only rested eight.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Kane’s Expedition (continued).

Arrival of Esquimaux at the Brig—A Treaty Concluded—Hospitality on Board—Arctic Appetites—Sledge Journeys—A Break-down—Morton’s Trip—The Open Sea—The Brig hopelessly Beset—A Council Called—Eight Men stand by the Advance—Departure of the Rest—Their Return—Terrible Sufferings—A Characteristic Entry—Raw Meat for Food—Fruitless Journeys for Fresh Meat—A Scurvied Crew—Starving Esquimaux—Attempted Desertion—A Deserter brought back from the Esquimaux Settlements.

The arrival and visit of a number of Esquimaux at the brig caused some little excitement. They were fine specimens of the race, and evidently inclined for friendship. At first only one of them was admitted on board. His dress is described as a kind of hooded capôte or jumper of mixed blue and white fox-skins arranged with some taste, and booted trousers of white bear-skin, which at the end of the foot were made to terminate with the claws of the animal. Kane soon came to an understanding with this individual, and the rest were admitted to the brig, where they were hospitably treated. When offered, however, good fresh wheaten bread and corned pork, and large lumps of white sugar, they could not be induced to touch them, but much preferred gorging on walrus meat. They were greatly amazed at the coal on board—too hard for blubber, and so unlike wood. They were allowed to sleep in the hold. Next morning a treaty was made whereby they pledged themselves, before departing, to return in a few days with more meat, and to allow Kane to use their dogs and sledges in the proposed excursions.

Kane with a party attempted in the spring of 1854 a journey to the great glacier of Humboldt, from which point he had hoped “to cross the ice to the American side.” They had made some progress when the winter’s scurvy reappeared painfully among the [pg 239]party. The now soft snow made travelling very difficult for both men and dogs; indeed, the former sank to their waists, and the latter were nearly buried. Three of the men were taken with snow blindness; one was utterly, and another partially disabled. Kane was, while taking an observation for latitude, seized with a sudden pain, and fainted. His limbs became rigid, and he had to be strapped on the sledge. On May 5th he became delirious, and fainted every time he was taken from the tent to the sledge. The last man to give in, he owns that on this occasion he succumbed entirely, and that to five brave men—Morton, Riley, Hickey, Stephenson, and Hans—themselves scarcely able to travel, he owed his preservation. They carried him back to the brig by forced marches, and he long lay there in a very critical state. A few days after the return of the party, Schubert, one of the merriest and best liked of the little band, died. Dr. Hayes, the surgeon of the ship, worked zealously in the discharge of his duties, and with the better diet obtained in the summer—fresh seal-meat, reindeer, ptarmigan, and rabbits—the invalids gradually recovered strength, and set about their duties.

The most important sledge journey undertaken at this time was that made by Morton. After travelling a considerable distance, “due north over a solid area choked with bergs and frozen fields, he was startled by the growing weakness of the ice; its surface became rotten, and the snow wet and pulpy. His dogs, seized with terror, refused to advance. Then for the first time the fact broke upon him that a long dark band seen to the north beyond a protruding cape, Cape Andrew Jackson, was water.” He retraced his steps, and leaving Hans and his dogs, passed between Sir John Franklin Island and the narrow beach line, the coast becoming more wall-like and dark masses of porphyritic rock abutting into the sea. With growing difficulty he managed to climb from rock to rock in hopes of doubling the promontory and sighting the coasts beyond, but the water kept encroaching more and more on his track.

“It must have been an imposing sight as he stood at this termination of his journey looking out upon the great waste of waters before him. Not ‘a speck of ice,’ to use his own words, could be seen. There, from a height of 480 feet, which commanded a horizon of almost forty miles, his ears were gladdened with the novel music of dashing waves; and a surf breaking in among the rocks at his feet, stayed his further progress.... The high ridges to the north-west dwindled off into low blue knobs, which blended finally with the air. Morton called the cape which baffled his labours after his commander, but I have given it the more enduring name of ‘Cape Constitution.’ I do not believe there was a man among us who did not long for the means of embarking upon its bright and lonely waters. But he who may be content to follow our story for the next few months will feel as we did, that a controlling necessity made the desire a fruitless one.”

Morton had undoubtedly seen an open sea, but the water which he described we now know to be simply Kennedy Channel, a continuation of Smith Sound. He had reached a latitude (about 80° 30′) further north than any previous explorer of the Greenland coast.

MORTON DISCOVERS THE OPEN SEA.

A year and three months had passed since the starting of the expedition, and still the little brig was fast in the ice. The men were, as Kane calls it, “scurvy riddled” and utterly prostrated, their supplies were rapidly becoming exhausted, and Kane deter[pg 240]mined to hold a council of both officers and crew. At noon of August 26th all hands were called, and the situation fully explained to them, the doctor, however, counselling them to stay by the brig, although he gave them full permission to make any attempt at escape they might deem feasible. Eight out of seventeen resolved to stand by the vessel. Dr. Hayes and eight others determined to make an effort to reach the settlements. Kane divided their remaining resources, and they left on the 28th. One of them, George Riley, returned a few days afterwards, and, three and a half months later, the rest were only too glad to rejoin the vessel, after enduring many sufferings. On December 12th, says Kane, “Brooks awoke me with the cry of ‘Esquimaux again!’ I dressed hastily, and groping my way over the pile of boxes that leads up from the hold to the darkness above, made out a group of human figures, masked by the hooded jumpers of the natives. They stopped at the gangway, and, as I was about to challenge, one of them sprang forward and grasped my hand. It was Dr. Hayes. A few words, dictated by suffering, certainly not by any anxiety as to his reception, and at his bidding the whole party came upon deck. Poor fellows! I could only grasp their hands, and give them a brother’s welcome.” The thermometer stood at -50° (82° below freezing); they were covered with rime and snow, and were fainting with hunger. It was necessary to use caution in taking them in to the warm cabin, or it would have prostrated them completely. “Poor fellows,” says Kane, “as they threw open their Esquimaux garments by the stove, how they relished the scanty luxuries which we had to offer them! The coffee and the meat biscuit soup, and the molasses and the wheat bread, even the salt pork which our scurvy forbade the rest of us to touch—how they relished it all! For more than two months they had lived on frozen seal and walrus meat.” They were all in danger of collapse, and had long to be nursed very carefully. Dr. Hayes was much prostrated, and three of his frost-bitten toes had to suffer amputation.

Their hope at starting was that they might reach Upernavik, the nearest Danish settlement in Greenland, a distance of about one thousand miles, and that they might, at all events next spring, send succour to the party left behind. Dr. Kane furnished them with such necessaries as could be properly spared, with sledges: they were to take a life-boat previously deposited near Lyttelton Island, and a whale-boat which had been left at the Six-mile Ravine—a spot so called from being that distance from the brig. Before leaving Dr. Kane called them into the cabin, where in some nook or corner of the aft locker the careful steward had stowed a couple of bottles of champagne, the existence of which was only known to the commander and himself. One of these was drawn from its hiding-place, and in broken-handled tea-cups they exchanged mutual pledges.

Their hopes had been to reach open water at about ten miles from the brig, but in this they were entirely disappointed, and they had to drag their boats, sledges, and provisions, over ice so rough and broken, that in one place it took them three days to make six miles. Little wonder if some of them thought of returning almost as soon as they started!

The reader would not thank us were we to record the long series of weary marches over the ice which form the bulk of Dr. Hayes’ narrative. Winter was fast approaching, their provisions were nearly exhausted, and it behoved them to erect some place of [pg 241]shelter. A hut was constructed of boulders, a sail doing duty for roof, and a piece of greased linen—part of an old shirt—for window-glass. Like Franklin and Richardson, they tried to eke out their supplies by eating tripe de roche, the rock lichen, which, as it most commonly does, produced diarrhœa, and weakened them still more. Esquimaux visitors arrived at the hut, and brought them some limited supplies of blubber, but declined altogether to sell their dogs or help them to Upernavik. Whether or no Hayes was mistaken, he did not trust much to that innocence and simplicity which are supposed to be the prevailing characteristics of the Esquimaux; and on one or two occasions he seems to have had very good reason for his doubts. Petersen and Godfrey, on the way, during November, to the brig for succour, overheard some natives plotting their destruction, and immediately started from the settlement with their sledge. The Esquimaux followed them with savage cries, but the determined front shown to them seemed to have altered their minds.

“I now,” says Hayes, “repeated to Kalutunah a request which had been made on previous occasions, viz., that his people should take us upon their sledges and carry us northward to the Oomeaksoak. His answer was the same as it had been hitherto. It was [pg 242]then proposed to him and his companions that we should hire from them their teams; but this they also declined to do. No offers which we could make seemed to produce the slightest impression upon them, and it was clear that nothing would induce them to comply with our wishes, nor even give us any reason for their refusal. In fact, they thoroughly understood our situation; and we now entertained no doubt that they had made up their minds, with a unanimity which at an earlier period seemed improbable, to abandon us to our fate and to profit by it.

“The question to be decided became a very plain one. Here were six civilised men, who had no resort for the preservation of their lives, their usefulness, and the happiness of their families, except in the aid of sledges and teams which the savage owners obstinately refused to sell or to hire. The expectation of seizing, after we should have starved or frozen to death, our remaining effects, was the only motive of the refusal. The savages were within easy reach of their friends, and could suffer little by a short delay of their return. For their property compensation could be made after our arrival at the brig. For my own part, before attempting to negotiate with Kalutunah I had determined that his party should not escape us in case of failure in our application to them for aid.

“My comrades were not behind me in their inclinations; indeed, it is to their credit that in so desperate an extremity they were willing to restrain themselves from measures of a kind to give us at the time far less trouble than those which I suggested. Being unwilling that any unnecessary harm should come to the Esquimaux, I proposed to put them to sleep with opium; then taking possession of their dogs and sledges, to push northward as rapidly as possible, and leaving them to awaken at their leisure; to stop for a few hours of rest among our friends at Northumberland Island; then to make directly for Cape Alexander, with the hope of getting so far the start of Kalutunah and his companions that before they could arrive at Netlik and spread the alarm we should be beyond their reach.

“This plan met with the unanimous sanction of the party, and we prepared to put it into immediate execution. In the way of this were some difficulties. Our guests were manifesting great uneasiness, and a decided disinclination to remain. Many threatening glances and very few kind words had been bestowed upon them, and they were evidently beginning to feel that they were not in a safe place. It became now our first duty to reassure them, and accordingly the angry looks gave place to friendly smiles. The old, familiar habits of our people were resumed. Many presents were given to them. I tore the remaining pictures from my ‘Anatomy,’ and the picture of the poor footsore boy who wanted washing from ‘Copperfield,’ and gave them to Kalutunah for his children. Such pieces of wood as remained to us were distributed amongst them. Each received a comb. This last they had sometimes seen us use, and they proceeded immediately to comb out their matted hair, or rather to attempt that work; but forty years of neglect, blubber, and filth, had so glued their locks together that there was no possibility of getting a comb through them. The jests excited by these attempts to imitate our practices did more to restore confidence than anything else.

“At length was reached the climax of our hospitalities. The stew which we had been preparing for our guests was ready and was placed before them, and they were soon greedily [pg 243]devouring it. This proceeding was watched by us with mingled anxiety and satisfaction, for while the pot was over the fire I had turned into it unobserved the contents of a small vial of laudanum. The soup, of course, contained the larger part of the opium, but being small in quantity it had been made so bitter that they would not eat more than the half of it. In order to prevent either of them from getting an over-dose we divided the fluid into three equal portions, and then with intense interest awaited the result, apprehensive that the narcotic had not been administered in sufficiently large quantity to ensure the desired effect.

“After an interval of painful watchfulness on the part of my companions the hunters began to droop their eyelids, and asked to be allowed to lie down and sleep. We were not long in granting their wish, and never before had we manifested more kindly dispositions towards them. We assisted them in taking off their coats and boots, and then wrapped them up in our blankets, about which we were no longer fastidious.

“Our guests were in a few minutes asleep, but I did not know how much of their drowsiness was due to fatigue (for they had been hunting), and how much to the opium; nor were we by any means assured that their sleep was sound, for they exhibited signs of restlessness which greatly alarmed us. Every movement had, therefore, to be conducted with the utmost circumspection.

“To prepare for starting was the work of a few minutes. We were in full travelling dress—coats, boots, and mittens, and some of us wore masks; the hunters’ whips were in our hands, and nothing remained to be done but to get a cup from the shelf. The moment was a critical one, for if the sleepers should awake our scheme must be revealed. Godfrey reached up for the desired cup, and down came the whole contents of the shelf, rattling to the ground. I saw the sleepers start, and, anticipating the result, instantly sprang to the light and extinguished it with a blow of my mittened hand. As was to be expected, the hunters were aroused. Kalutunah gave a grunt, and inquired what was the matter. I answered him by throwing myself upon the breck, and, crawling to his side, hugged him close, and cried ‘Singikpok’ (sleep). He laughed, muttered something which I could not understand, and, without having suspected that anything was wrong, again fell asleep.” Dr. Hayes and his companions made their escape.

KALUTUNAH.

The dogs, however, gave them a great deal of trouble; and they were not surprised when, after a halt for coffee, and to make some necessary repairs, they saw the prisoners left in the snow hut coming after them in full pursuit. There was nothing for it but a determined front. Hayes and his companions got their rifles ready, and on the approach of the natives, levelled them, ready to fire. This brought the Esquimaux to their senses, and with many deprecatory gestures they promised to do all that was asked of them. The affair ended, happily, without bloodshed, and the natives accompanied Hayes to the brig, which he reached safely, as before recorded, after many adventures.

Kane makes the following characteristic entry for January 6th, 1855:—“If this journal ever gets to be inspected by other eyes, the colour of its pages will tell of the atmosphere it is written in. We have been emulating the Esquimaux for some time in everything else; and now, last of all, this intolerable temperature and our want of fuel have driven us to rely on our lamps for heat. Counting those which I have [pg 244]added since the wanderers came back, we have twelve constantly going, with the grease and soot everywhere in proportion. I can hardly keep my charts and registers in anything like decent trim. Our beds and bedding are absolutely black, and our faces begrimed with fatty carbon like the Esquimaux of South Greenland.”

Still the scurvy kept a number of the men in an unserviceable condition. Some of Kane’s remarks on the use of raw meats àpropos of their value in a medicinal sense, are interesting:—“I do not know,” says he, “that my journal anywhere mentions our habituation to raw meats, nor does it dwell upon their strange adaptation to scorbutic disease. Our journeys have taught us the wisdom of the Esquimaux appetite, and there are few amongst us who do not relish a slice of raw blubber or a chunk of frozen walrus-beef. The liver of a walrus (awuktanuk) eaten with little slices of his fat, of a verity it is a delicious morsel! Fire would ruin the curt, pithy expression of vitality which belongs to its uncooked pieces. Charles Lamb’s roast pig was nothing to awuktanuk. I wonder that raw beef is not eaten at home. Deprived of extraneous fibre, it is neither indigestible nor difficult to masticate. With acids and condiments it makes a salad which an educated palate cannot help relishing; and as a powerful and condensed heat-making and anti-scorbutic food it has no rival....

“My plans for sledging, simple as I once thought them, and simple certainly as compared with those of the English parties, have completely changed. Give me an eight-pound reindeer-fur bag to sleep in, an Esquimaux lamp with a lump of moss, a sheet-iron snow-melter or a copper soup-pot, with a tin cylinder to slip over it and defend it from the wind, a good pièce de résistance of raw walrus-beef, and I want nothing more for a long journey, if the thermometer will keep itself as high as minus 30°. Give me a bear-[pg 245]skin bag, and coffee to boot, and with the clothes on my back I am ready for minus 60°, but no wind.

ESQUIMAUX SNOW HOUSES.

“The programme runs after this fashion:—Keep the blood in motion, without loitering on the march; and for the halt raise a snow-house; or, if the snow lies scant or impracticable, ensconce yourself in a burrow or under the hospitable lee of an inclined hummock-slab. The outside fat of your walrus sustains your little moss fire; its frozen slices give you bread, its frozen blubber gives you butter, other parts make the soup. The snow supplies you with water; and when you are ambitious of coffee there is a bagful stowed away in your boot. Spread out your bear-bag, your only heavy movable; stuff your reindeer-bag [pg 246]inside, hang your boots up outside, take a blade of bone and scrape off all the ice from your furs. Now crawl in, the whole party of you, feet foremost, draw the top of your dormitory close headlong to leeward. Fancy yourself in Sybaris, and, if you are only tired enough, you may sleep—like St. Lawrence on his gridiron, or even a trifle better.”

On January 17th Kane sadly admits that the “present state of things cannot last.” They required meat above all things, and he determined to make a sledge journey to the Esquimaux huts at Etah in search of it. The preparations made, he started on the 22nd, Hans Christian being the only available man to accompany him, the rest being nearly all prostrated with scurvy, and some in a most dangerous condition. His journal gives a graphic account of the attempt, which was a failure.

“Washington’s birthday, February 22nd, was, however, a day of better omen. Hans had had a shot—a long shot—at a deer, but he had wounded him, and the injured animal, they knew, would not run far. Next morning Hans was out early on the trail of the wounded deer. Rhina, the least barbarous of the sledge dogs, assisted him. He was back by noon with the joyful news, ‘The tukkuk dead only two miles up big fiord!’ The cry found its way through the hatch, and came back in a broken huzza from the sick men.

“We are so badly off for strong arms that our reindeer threatened to be a great embarrassment to us. We had hard work with our dogs carrying him to the brig, and still harder, worn down as we were, in getting him over the ship’s side. But we succeeded, and were tumbling him down the hold, when we found ourselves in a dilemma like the Vicar of Wakefield with his family picture. It was impossible to drag the prize into our little moss-lined dormitory; the tossut was not half big enough to let him pass; and it was equally impossible to skin him anywhere else without freezing our fingers in the operation.

“It was a happy escape from the embarrassments of our hungry little council to determine that the animal might be carved before skinning as well as he could be afterwards; and, in a very few minutes we proved our united wisdom by a feast on his quartered remains.

“It was a glorious meal, such as the compensations of Providence reserve for starving men alone. We ate, forgetful of the past, and almost heedless of the morrow; cleared away the offal wearily, and now, at 10 P.M., all hands have turned in to sleep, leaving to their commanding officer the solitary honour of an eight hours’ vigil.

“The deer was among the largest of all the northern specimens I have seen. He measured five feet one inch in girth, and six feet two inches in length, and stood as large as a two years’ heifer. We estimated his weight at three hundred pounds.”

But such a happy experience was quite exceptional at this time. Other expeditions to the Esquimaux at this time demonstrated that they themselves were in a starving condition. On March 20th two of the men attempted to desert, but Kane had learned of their intentions, and confronted them as they were about to leave the vessel. One man, Godfrey, however, did succeed, his intention being apparently to reach the settlement at Etah Bay, and robbing Hans, their hunter, of sledge and dogs, proceed south to Netlik. He afterwards returned to the brig with this very sledge, reporting that Hans was [pg 247]lying sick at Etah, and that he himself intended to settle down among the Esquimaux. Both Bonsall and Kane were at this time hardly able to walk, while the rest, thirteen in all, were down with the scurvy. Shots were fired at him to make him change his mind, but he again escaped, and this circumstance, with Hans’ continued absence, naturally caused the commander much anxiety. Kane, though weak and dispirited, determined to go in search of both. The sequel was, that disguising himself as an Esquimaux, he succeeded in deceiving the deserter when he arrived at the village, and handcuffing him made him yield unconditionally; he returned to the brig as a prisoner. Hans, however, had been really ill.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Kane’s Expedition (concluded).

A Sad Entry—Farewell to the Brig—Departure for the South—Death of Ohlsen—Difficult Travelling—The Open Water—The Esquimaux of Etah—A Terrible Gale—Among the broken Floes—A Greenland Oasis—The Ice Cliff—Eggs by the Hundred—An Anxious Moment—A Savage Feast—The First Sign of Civilisation—Return to the Settlements—Home once more.

Kane had now been two years in the arctic regions, and the day of release, so far at least as their little brig was concerned, seemed as far off as ever. Nearly all the men were invalids, and it took all the doctor’s unremitting attention to keep them from utter despondency; others, again, wanted only strength to become mutinous. Kane writes at the beginning of March that his journal “is little else than a chronicle of sufferings.” Brooks, his first officer, “as stalwart a man-o’-war’s-man as ever faced an enemy,” burst into tears when he first saw himself in the glass. On the 4th their last remnant of fresh meat had been doled out, and the region about their harbour ceased to yield any game.

May arrived, and with returning spring, and some supplies obtained from the natives, the crew were so far restored to health that all but three or four could take some part in the preparations for an immediate start to the southward. It had become only too evident that their vessel, now almost dismantled to the water’s edge—the woodwork having been needed for fuel—must be abandoned. But one month’s provisions remained, and they were thirteen hundred miles from the nearest Danish settlement.

The last farewell to the brig was made with some degree of solemnity. It was Sunday. After prayers and a chapter of the Bible had been read, Kane addressed his men, not affecting to disguise from them the difficulties still to be overcome, but reminding them how often an unseen Power had already rescued them from peril. He was met in a right spirit, and a memorial was shortly afterwards brought to him, signed by the whole company, which stated that they entirely concurred in his attempt to reach the south by means of boats, and that they were convinced of the necessity of abandoning the brig. All then went on deck. The flags were hoisted and hauled down again, and the men walked once or twice around the brig, looking at her timbers, and exchanging comments [pg 248]upon the scars, which reminded them of every stage of her dismantling. The figure-head—the fair Augusta, the little blue girl with pink cheeks, who had lost her breast by an iceberg and her nose by a nip off Bedevilled Reach—was taken from the bows. “She is at any rate wood,” said the men, when Kane hesitated about giving them the extra burden, “and if we cannot carry her far we can burn her.”

Their boats were three in number, all of them well battered by exposure to ice and storm, almost as destructive of their seaworthiness as the hot sun of other regions. Two of them were cypress whale-boats, twenty-six feet long, with seven feet beam, and three feet deep. These were strengthened with oak bottom-pieces and a long string-piece bolted to the keel. A washboard of light cedar, about six inches high, served to strengthen the gunwale and give increased depth. A neat housing of light canvas was stretched upon a ridge-line sustained fore and aft by stanchions. The third boat was the little Red Eric. They mounted her on the old sledge, the Faith, hardly relying on her for any purposes of navigation, but with the intention of cutting her up for firewood in case their guns should fail to give them a supply of blubber. Indeed, in spite of all the ingenuity of the carpenter, Mr. Ohlsen, well seconded by the persevering labours of M’Garey and Bonsall, not one of the boats was positively seaworthy. The Hope would not pass even charitable inspection, and they expected to burn her on reaching water. The planking of all of them was so dried up that it could hardly be made tight by caulking. The three boats were mounted on the sledges, the provisions stowed snugly under the thwarts; the chronometers, carefully boxed and padded, placed in the stern-sheets of the Hope, in charge of Mr. Sontag. With them were such of the instruments as they could venture to transport. Their powder and shot, upon which their lives depended, were carefully distributed in bags and tin canisters.

“There was,” says Kane, “no sign or affectation of spirit or enthusiasm upon the memorable day when we first adjusted the boats to their cradles on the sledges, and moved them off to the ice-foot. But the ice immediately around the vessel was smooth, and as the boats had not received their lading, the first labour was an easy one. As the runners moved, the gloom of several countenances was perceptibly lightened. The croakers had protested that we could not stir an inch. These cheering remarks always reach a commander’s ears, and I took good care, of course, to make the onset contradict them. By the time we reached the end of our little level the tone had improved wonderfully, and we were prepared for the effort of crossing the successive lines of the belt-ice, and forcing a way through the smashed material which interposed between us and the ice-foot.

“This was a work of great difficulty, and sorrowfully exhausting to the poor fellows not yet accustomed to heave together. But in the end I had the satisfaction, before twenty-four hours were over, of seeing our little arks of safety hauled up on the higher plane of the ice-foot, in full time for ornamental exhibition from the brig; their neat canvas housing rigged tent-fashion over the entire length of each; a jaunty little flag, made out of one of the commander’s obsolete linen shirts, decorated in stripes from a disused article of stationery—the red-ink bottle—and with a very little of the blue-bag in the star-spangled corner. All hands after this returned on board. I had ready for them the best supper our supplies afforded, and they turned in with minds prepared for their departure next day.

“They were nearly all of them invalids, unused to open air and exercise. It was necessary to train them very gradually. We made but two miles the first day, and with a single boat; and, indeed, for some time after this I took care that they should not be disheartened by overwork. They came back early to a hearty supper and warm beds, and I had the satisfaction of marching them back each recurring morning refreshed and cheerful. The weather, happily, was superb.”

Repeated sledge journeys back to the brig, and afterwards from station to station, were made, as they could not transport all their goods at one time in their enfeebled state. No one worked harder than did the commander himself. On one of his last visits to the brig, he, with the aid of Morton and an Esquimaux, baked 150 lbs. of bread, and performed other culinary operations for the benefit of the whole party.

Their journey was one of peril and difficulty, and constantly interrupted by gales. The reflection would now and again force itself upon their minds that a single storm might convert the precarious platform on which they travelled into a tumultuous ice-pack. While crossing a weak part of the ice one of their sledge-runners broke through, and but for the presence of mind of Ohlsen, the load, boat and all, would have gone under. He saw the ice give way, and by a violent exercise of strength, passed a capstan-bar under the sledge, and thus bore the load till it was hauled on to safer ice. He was a very powerful [pg 250]man, and might have done this without injuring himself; but it would seem his footing gave way under him, forcing him to make a still more desperate effort to extricate himself. It cost him his life: he died three days afterwards, from the strain on his system.

But there were times when travelling was not so difficult, and when they could hoist their sails, and run rapidly before the wind over solid ice. It was a new sensation to the men. Levels which, under the slow labour of the drag-rope, would have delayed them for hours, were glided over without a halt, and the speed of the sledges made rotten ice nearly as available as sound. They made more progress in one day in this manner than they had previously in five. The spirits of the men rose; “the sick mounted the thwarts; the well clung to the gunwale; and, for the first time for nearly a year, broke out the sailors’ chorus, ‘Storm along, my hearty boys!’ ”

“Though the condition of the ice assured us,” says Kane, writing several days later, “that we were drawing near the end of our sledge-journeys, it by no means diminished their difficulty or hazards. The part of the field near the open water is always abraded by the currents, while it remains apparently firm on the surface. In some places it was so transparent that we could even see the gurgling eddies below it; while in others it was worn into open holes that were already the resort of wild fowl. But in general it looked hard and plausible, though not more than a foot or even six inches in thickness.

“This continued to be its character as long as we pursued the Lyttelton Island channel, and we were compelled, the whole way through, to sound ahead with the boat-hook or narwal-horn. We learned this precaution from the Esquimaux, who always move in advance of their sledges when the ice is treacherous, and test its strength before bringing on their teams. Our first warning impressed us with the policy of observing. We were making wide circuits with the whale-boats to avoid the tide-holes, when signals of distress from men scrambling on the ice announced to us that the Red Eric had disappeared. This unfortunate little craft contained all the dearly-earned documents of the expedition. There was not a man who did not feel that the reputation of the party rested in a great degree upon their preservation. It had cost us many a pang to give up our collections of natural history, to which every one had contributed his quota of labour and interest; but the destruction of the vouchers of the cruise—the log-books, the meteorological registers, the surveys, and the journals—seemed to strike them all as an irreparable disaster.

“When I reached the boat everything was in confusion. Blake, with a line passed round his waist, was standing up to his knees in sludge, groping for the document-box, and Mr. Bonsall, dripping wet, was endeavouring to haul the provision-bags to a place of safety. Happily the boat was our lightest one, and everything was saved. She was gradually lightened until she could bear a man, and her cargo was then passed out by a line and hauled upon the ice. In spite of the wet and the cold and our thoughts of poor Ohlsen, we greeted its safety with three cheers.

“It was by great good fortune that no lives were lost. Stephenson was caught as he sank by one of the sledge-runners, and Morton while in the very act of drifting under the ice was seized by the hair of the head by Mr. Bonsall, and saved!”

On June 16th their boats were at the open water. “We see,” says Kane, “its deep indigo horizon, and hear its roar against the icy beach. Its scent is in our nostrils and our hearts.” They had their boats to prepare now for a long and adventurous navigation. They were so small and heavily laden as hardly to justify much confidence in their buoyancy; but, besides this, they were split with frost and warped by sunshine, and fairly open at the seams. They were to be caulked, and swelled, and launched, and stowed, before they could venture to embark in them. A rainy south-wester too, which had met them on arrival, was now spreading with its black nimbus over the sky as if they were to be storm-stayed on the precarious ice-beach. It was a time of anxiety.

CAPE ALEXANDER, GREENLAND.

Kane writes on July 18th, “The Esquimaux are camped by our side—the whole settlement of Etah congregated around the ‘big caldron’ of Cape Alexander, to bid us good-bye. There are Meteh and Mealik his wife, our old acquaintance Mrs. Eiderduck, and their five children, commencing with Myouk my body-guard, and ending with the ventricose little Accomadah. There is Nessark and Anak his wife; and Tellerk, ‘the right-arm,’ and Amannalik his wife; and Sip-see, and Marsumah, and Aniugnah—and who not? I can name them every one, but they know us as well. We have found brothers in a strange land.”

For many days after leaving their Esquimaux friends they were more or less beset with broken floating ice, and the weather was often extremely bad. Kane describes a gale, during which the boats were nearly swamped. At length they reached a cleft or cave in the cliff, and were shoring up their boat with blocks of ice, when they saw the welcome sight of a flock of eider ducks, and they knew that they were at their breeding grounds.

THE HOME OF THE EIDER DUCK.

“We remained almost three days in our crystal retreat, gathering eggs at the rate of 1,200 a day. Outside the storm raged without intermission, and our egg-hunters found it difficult to keep their feet; but a merrier set of gourmands than were gathered within never surfeited in genial diet.” It was the 18th of July before the ice allowed them to depart. In launching the Hope she was precipitated into the sludge below, carrying away rail and bulwark, tumbling their best shot-gun into the sea, and, worst of all, their kettle—soup-kettle, paste-kettle, tea-kettle, water-kettle, all in one—was lost overboard. For some days after they made fair progress.

A little later and matters had not improved. The ice was again before them in an almost unbroken mass. “Things grew worse and worse with us,” says Kane; “the old difficulty of breathing came back again, and our feet swelled to such an extent that we were obliged to cut open our canvas boots. But the symptom which gave me most uneasiness was our inability to sleep. A form of low fever which hung by us when at work had been kept down by the thoroughness of our daily rest. All my hopes of escape were in the refreshing influences of the halt.

“It must be remembered that we were now in the open bay, in the full line of the great ice-drift to the Atlantic, and in boats so frail and unseaworthy as to require constant baling to keep them afloat.

“It was at this crisis of our fortunes that we saw a large seal floating—as is the custom of these animals—on a small patch of ice, and seemingly asleep. It was an ussuk, [pg 252]and so large that I at first mistook it for a walrus. Signal was made for the Hope to follow astern, and, trembling with anxiety, we prepared to crawl down upon him.

“Petersen, with the large English rifle, was stationed in the bow, and stockings were drawn over the oars as mufflers. As we neared the animal our excitement became so intense that the men could hardly keep stroke. I had a set of signals for such occasions, which spared us the noise of the voice; and when about three hundred yards off the oars were taken in, and we moved on in deep silence with a single scull astern.

“He was not asleep, for he reared his head when we were almost within rifle-shot; and to this day I can remember the hard, careworn, almost despairing expression of the men’s thin faces as they saw him move: their lives depended on his capture.

“I depressed my hand nervously, as a signal for Petersen to fire. M’Gary hung upon his oar, and the boat, slowly but noiselessly sagging ahead, seemed to me within certain range. Looking at Petersen, I saw that the poor fellow was paralysed by his anxiety, trying vainly to obtain a rest for his gun against the cut-water of the boat. The seal rose on his fore-flippers, gazed at us for a moment with frightened curiosity, and coiled himself for a plunge. At that instant, simultaneously with the crack of our rifle, he relaxed his long length on the ice, and, at the very brink of the water, his head fell helpless to one side.

“I would have ordered another shot, but no discipline could have controlled the men. With a wild yell, each vociferating according to his own impulse, they urged both boats upon the floes. A crowd of hands seized the seal, and bore him up to safer ice. The men seemed half crazy: I had not realised how much we were reduced by absolute famine. They ran over the floe, crying and laughing, and brandishing their knives. It was not five minutes before each man was sucking his bloody fingers, or mouthing long strips of raw blubber.

“Not an ounce of this seal was lost. The intestines found their way into the soup-kettles without any observance of the preliminary home processes. The cartilaginous parts of the fore-flippers were cut off in the mêlée and passed round to be chewed upon; and [pg 253]even the liver, warm and raw as it was, bade fair to be eaten before it had seen the pot. That night, on the large halting-floe, to which, in contempt of the dangers of drifting, we happy men had hauled our boats, two entire planks of the Red Eric were devoted to a grand cooking-fire, and we enjoyed a rare and savage feast....

“Two days after this a mist had settled down upon the islands which embayed us, and when it lifted we found ourselves rowing in lazy time, under the shadow of Karkamoot. Just then a familiar sound came to us over the water. We had often listened to the screeching of the gulls or the bark of the fox, and mistaken it for the ‘Huk’ of the Esquimaux; but this had about it an inflection not to be mistaken, for it died away in the familiar cadence of a ‘halloo.’

“ ‘Listen, Petersen! oars, men!’ ‘What is it?’—and he listened quietly at first, and then, trembling, said, in a half whisper, ‘Dannemarkers!’

“I remember this the first tone of Christian voice which had greeted our return to the world. How we all stood up and peered into the distant nook; and how the cry came to us again, just as, having seen nothing, we were doubting whether the whole was not a dream; and then how, with long sweeps, the white ash cracking under the spring of the rowers, we stood for the cape that the sound proceeded from, and how nervously we scanned the green spots, which our experience, grown now into instinct, told us would be the likely camping-ground of wayfarers!

“By-and-by—for we must have been pulling for a good half-hour—the single mast of a small shallop showed itself; and Petersen, who had been very quiet and grave, burst out into an incoherent fit of crying, only relieved by broken exclamations of mingled Danish and English. ‘’Tis the Upernavik oil-boat, the Fraulein Flaischer! Carlie Mossyn, the assistant cooper, must be on his road to Kingatok for blubber. The Mariane (the one annual ship) has come, and Carlie Mossyn’—and here he did it all over again, gulping down his words and wringing his hands.

“It was Carlie Mossyn, sure enough. The quiet routine of a Danish settlement is the same year after year, and Petersen had hit upon the exact state of things. The Mariane was at Proven, and Carlie Mossyn had come up in the Fraulein Flaischer to get the year’s supply of blubber from Kingatok.

“Here we first got our cloudy vague idea of what had passed in the world during our absence. The friction of its fierce rotation has not much disturbed this little outpost of civilisation, and we thought it a sort of blunder as he told us that France and England were leagued with the Mussulman against the Greek Church. He was a good Lutheran, this assistant cooper, and all news with him had a theological complexion.

“ ‘What of America? eh, Petersen?’—and we all looked, waiting for him to interpret the answer.

“ ‘America?’ said Carlie; ‘we don’t know much of that country here, for they have no whalers on the coast; but a steamer and a barque passed up a fortnight ago, and have gone out into the ice to seek your party.’

“How gently all the lore of this man oozed out of him! he seemed an oracle, as, with hot tingling fingers pressed against the gunwale of the boat, we listened to his words. ‘Sebastopol aint taken.’ Where and what was Sebastopol?

“But ‘Sir John Franklin?’ There we were at home again—our own delusive little speciality rose uppermost. Franklin’s party, or traces of the dead which represented it, had been found nearly a thousand miles to the south of where we had been searching for them. He knew it; for the priest (Pastor Kraag) had a German newspaper which told all about it. And so we ‘out oars’ again, and rowed into the fogs.

“Another sleeping halt was passed, and we have all washed clean at the fresh-water basins, and furbished up our ragged furs and woollens. Kasarsoak, the snow top of Sanderson’s Hope, shows itself above the mists, and we hear the yelling of the dogs. Petersen had been foreman of the settlement, and he calls my attention, with a sort of pride, to the tolling of the workmen’s bell. It is six o’clock. We are nearing the end of our trials. Can it be a dream?

“We hugged the land by the big harbour, turned the corner by the brewhouse, and, in the midst of a crowd of children, hauled our boats for the last time upon the rocks.

“For eighty-four days we had lived in the open air. Our habits were hard and weatherworn. We could not remain within the four walls of a house without a distressing sense of suffocation. But we drank coffee that night before many a hospitable threshold, and listened again and again to the hymn of welcome, which, sung by many voices, greeted our deliverance.” They had been eighty-four days on the trip.

Kane and his party received all manner of kindness from the Danes of Upernavik. After stopping there nearly a month, and recruiting their health, they left for Godhavn on a Danish vessel, the captain of which had engaged to drop them at the Shetland Islands, should no other or better opportunity occur. Just as they were leaving Godhavn, however, the look-out man at the hill-top announced a steamer in the distance. It drew near, with a barque in tow, and they soon recognised the stars and stripes of their own country. All the boats of the settlement put out to her. “Presently,” says the interesting narrative we have followed, “we were alongside. An officer whom I shall ever remember as a cherished friend, Captain Hartstene, hailed a little man in a ragged flannel shirt, ‘Is that Dr. Kane?’ and with the ‘Yes!’ that followed the rigging was manned by our countrymen, and cheers welcomed us back to the social world of love which they represented.” This U.S. man-of-war which had been sent especially to search for them, had been several weeks among the northward ice before they returned, so fortunately, to Godhavn. A few weeks later Kane was being honoured as only Americans honour those whom they highly esteem. Later, in many ways, he received the fullest recognition in our own country. It is sad to know that he, who had laboured so hard for the welfare of his men, and not merely for science or personal ambition, was the first to pass away. His slight frame could not stand the many drafts which had been put on its endurance, and scarcely fourteen months elapsed from the period of his return till the sad news of his death shocked not merely the world of science but a world of friends, many of whom had never known him in the flesh, but who, from his writings and good report, had learned to love him.

GODHAVN, A DANISH SETTLEMENT IN DISCO ISLAND, GREENLAND.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Hayes’ Expedition—Swedish Expeditions.

Voyage of the United States—High Latitude attained—In Winter Quarters—Hardships of the Voyage—The dreary Arctic Landscape—Open Water once more—1,300 Miles of Ice traversed—Swedish Expeditions—Perilous Position of the Sofia.

It will be remembered that Dr. Hayes was associated with Dr. Kane at the period when Morton discovered that open water which seemed to many scientific men of the day positive proof of the existence of an “open polar sea.” Dr. Hayes was an evident believer in the theory, and his enthusiastic advocacy of it induced many in the United States to come forward and lend material aid towards the solution of the problem. A private subscription, to which that worthy New Yorker Mr. Grinnell, who had already done so much to further Arctic exploration, contributed largely, enabled Dr. Hayes to purchase and fit a schooner—the United States—for the arduous work in which she was to be engaged. The vessel was of no great size, merely some 130 tons burden, but was considerably strengthened and suitably provided for her coming struggle with the ice. The expedition, which numbered only fourteen persons all told, left Boston on July 6th, 1860.

Hayes’ idea at starting was to proceed viâ Smith Sound and Kennedy Channel as far north as might be; then to winter on the Greenland coast, and attempt to reach with sledges the northern water. Dangers, the description of which would be but a recapitulation of previous accounts recorded in these pages, were passed successfully, and eventually he laid up the vessel in Port Foulke, where the winter was passed in comparative ease. In the months of April and May, 1861, he made an important exploration, at the end of which he had the pleasure of reaching a point north of that attained by Morton. The journey was one of the very greatest peril. Gales, fogs, and drifting snows; hummocks and broken ice; opening seams and pools of water—such were a few of the dangers and difficulties encountered. Some of the men succumbed utterly, and had to be sent back to the schooner: it occupied the doctor and his companions a clear month to cross Smith Sound. In Kennedy Channel the ice was becoming rotten and full of water-holes, and through the soft and now melting snow they travelled with the greatest difficulty. The dreariness and desolation of an Arctic landscape are well described by Hayes. “As the eye wandered from peak to peak of the mountains as they rose one above the other, and rested upon the dark and frost-degraded cliffs, and followed along the ice-foot and overlooked the sea, and saw in every object the silent forces of Nature moving on—through the gloom of winter and the sparkle of summer—now, as they had moved for countless ages, unobserved but by the eye of God alone—I felt how puny indeed are all men’s works and efforts; and when I sought for some token of living thing, some track of wild beast—a fox, or bear, or reindeer, which had elsewhere always crossed me in my journeyings—and saw nothing but two feeble men and struggling dogs, it seemed indeed as if the Almighty had frowned upon the hills and seas.” Still they pushed on, till the old ice came suddenly to an end, and the unerring instinct of the dogs warned them of approaching danger. They were observed for some time to be moving with unusual caution, and at last they scattered right and left, and refused to proceed. Hayes walked on ahead, and soon came to the conclusion that they must retrace their steps, for his staff gave way on the ice. After [pg 256]camping, and enjoying a refreshing sleep, he climbed a steep hill-side to the summit of a rugged cliff, about 800 feet above the sea level, from which he soon understood the cause of their arrested progress. “The ice was everywhere in the same condition as in the mouth of the bay across which I had endeavoured to pass. A broad crack, starting from the middle of the bay, stretched over the sea, and uniting with other cracks as it meandered to the eastward, it expanded as the delta of some mighty river discharging into the ocean, and under a water-sky, which hung upon the northern and eastern horizon, it was lost in the open sea.

THE SCHOONER “UNITED STATES” AT PORT FOULKE.

“Standing against the dark sky at the north, there was seen in dim outline the white sloping summit of a noble headland, the most northern known land upon the globe. I judged it to be in the latitude of 82° 30′, or 450 miles from the North Pole. Nearer, another bold cape stood forth, and nearer still the headland, for which I had been steering my course the day before, rose majestically from the sea, as if pushing up into the very skies, a lofty mountain peak, upon which the winter had dropped its diadem of snows. There was no land visible except the coast upon which I stood.

“The sea beneath me was a mottled sheet of white and dark patches, these latter being either soft decaying ice, or places where the ice had wholly disappeared. These spots were heightened in intensity of shade and multiplied in size as they receded, until the belt of the water-sky blended them all together into one uniform colour of dark blue. [pg 257]The old and solid floes (some a quarter of a mile, and others miles across) and the massive ridges and wastes of hummocked ice which lay piled between them and around their margins, were the only parts of the sea which retained the whiteness and solidity of winter.”

Hayes returned from this expedition firmly convinced that he had stood upon the shores of the Polar basin. The arguments have been before indicated for and against this theory, but they are certainly not conclusive. The journey had been one of a most arduous nature; and more than 1,300 miles of ice had been traversed before he regained the schooner. On his return to the United States shortly afterwards, at the climax of the great American war, Hayes immediately volunteered in the Northern army, a pretty decided proof of the energy and bravery of the man.

Between the years 1858 and 1872 Sweden sent out five expeditions to the Arctic, the results of which were important in many directions, although no geographical discoveries of great mark were made. The first was provided at the expense of Otto Torell, a gentleman of means, and who has deservedly earned a high scientific reputation. The expenses of the others were defrayed partly by private subscription and partly by Government aid. The whole of them were under the direction of Professor Nordenskjöld, and a very decided addition to our knowledge of Spitzbergen has been the result. The Swedes reached a latitude of 81° 42′ N. during the 1868 voyage. An attempt to pass northward from the Seven Isles is thus described by the Professor:—

“Northward lay vast ice masses, it is true as yet broken, but still so closely packed that not even a boat could pass forward, and we were therefore obliged to turn to the south-west and seek for another opening in the ice; but we found on the contrary, that the limit of the ice stretched itself more and more to the south.... On the way we had in several places met with ice black with stones, gravel, and earth, which would seem to indicate the existence of land still farther north.

“The ice itself had, moreover, a very different appearance from that which we had met in these tracts at the end of August. It consisted now, not only of larger ice-fields, but also of huge ice-blocks.... Already, in the beginning of September, the surface of the ocean, after a somewhat heavy fall of snow, had shown itself between the ice masses, covered with a coating of ice, which, however, was then thin, and scarcely hindered the vessel’s progress. Now it was so thick that it was not without difficulty that a way could be forced through it.” On October the 4th, during the prevalence of a gale and heavy sea, their ship, the Sofia, was thrown bodily upon an iceberg, and commenced to leak so badly that when they reached Amsterdam Island, and after eleven hours of incessant work at the pumps, the water stood two feet above the cabin floor. The engine-room, thanks to water-tight bulkheads, was with great difficulty kept so free from water that the fires were not extinguished. Had this not been the case, the ship must have become a prey to the raging elements. At Amsterdam Island the vessel was careened, and the leak provisionally stopped, so that they were able a little later to proceed to a more secure harbour, King’s Bay, where they hauled close to the land, and at ebb tide succeeded in making the ship water-tight. Two ribs were broken by the shock which caused the leak, and an immediate return home was their only safe course. The description, however, gives some idea of the dangers of Arctic ice navigation.

[pg 258]

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Second German Expedition.

The First German Expedition—Preparations for a Second—Building of the Germania—The Hansa—The Emperor William’s Interest in the Voyage—The Scientific Corps—Departure from Bremerhaven—Neptune at the Arctic Circle—The Vessels Separated among the Ice—Sport with Polar Bears—Wedged in by the Grinding Ice—Preparations to Winter on the Floe—The Hansa lifted Seventeen Feet out of the Water—A Doomed Vessel—Wreck of the Hansa.

On the 24th of October, 1868, a number of gentlemen were assembled round a festive board in Bremen to celebrate the happy return of the first German expedition, under Captain Karl Koldewey. Among the guests was Dr. A. Petermann, the eminent geographer, to whose exertions in great part the inauguration of the expedition had been due. Its object had been to reach as near the North Pole as might be, the route selected being that between Greenland and Spitzbergen. Baffled by an icy barrier off the South Cape of Spitzbergen, at which time a terrific storm was raging, he had steered to the eastward, passing among clusters of icebergs, some of which were taller than his vessel’s masts. After passing safely through many perils, he returned to the South Cape, and coasted Spitzbergen to the north-west; later he had endeavoured to make the ice-girt shores of East Greenland, but not succeeding, again returned to Spitzbergen, and after sundry explorations, turned his vessel’s head towards home.

It was at the banquet above-mentioned that expression was first given to the idea of a second expedition to the inhospitable regions of the far North. There had been some slight surplus of funds left from the first expedition, and it was determined to make an appeal to German liberality to complete a sum sufficient to build a steamer specially adapted for Arctic waters. Committees were formed in Berlin, Munich, Bremen, Hamburg, and numerous other cities, and the result in the end was very satisfactory. The Germania, a steamer of 143 tons burden, was laid on the stocks at Bremerhaven on March 10th, 1869, and thirty-six days afterwards was launched. She was about the average size of a Brazilian or West Indian fruit or coffee schooner, ninety feet long, twenty-two and a half feet broad, and eleven feet deep. Although, therefore, an extremely small steamer, she had been built in the strongest manner, with extra beams, thick iron sheathing, and every other improvement which might render her comparatively safe in the ice. Her sharp build proved subsequently of great advantage to her when sailing. Including the machinery and ship’s fittings, the Germania cost £3,150. A second vessel, the purchase-money for which had been guaranteed by some Bremen merchants, although eventually the subscriptions released them, was a Prussian schooner of 76¾ tons burden, which was re-christened the Hansa, and was meant to be, in some sense, a tender to the Germania, although fate eventually decreed otherwise. Great care was taken with the victualling and equipment of the ships; but little salt or dried meat was taken. Many presents of “the good Rhine wine” and other luxuries, as well as books, instruments, and other kindly remembrances, came in from friends of the expedition.

The officers and scientific members of the expedition counted among their number several men who had previously or have since become famous. The commander of the [pg 259]whole was Captain Koldewey, a Hanoverian, who had long been a sailor, and who, to fit himself for his new duties, temporarily gave up his profession, in the winters of 1867-8 and 1868-9, to study physics and astronomy at the University of Gottingen. With him were associated Dr. Karl N. J. Borgen, and Dr. R. Copeland, an Englishman, who were conjointly to take scientific observations, &c.; also Julius Payer, a lieutenant in the Imperial Austrian army, on leave. The latter, in particular, joined the expedition with a considerable amount of prestige, derived from an active life spent in the cause of science. Although only twenty-seven years old, he had made and recorded many expeditions in the Alps, and in the mountainous districts of Austria. He had also taken an active part in 1866 in the Italian war. Lastly, to Dr. Adolphus Pansch, surgeon of the Germania, were assigned the departments of zoology, botany, and ethnology. Nearly all of the above had earned their laurels in the scientific literature of Germany. The captain of the Hansa was Paul Friedrich August Hegemann, an experienced navigator; with him were associated two scientific gentlemen, Dr. Bucholz and Dr. Gustavus Laube.

On May 28th, 1869, Captain Koldewey had an audience of his Majesty King William, at Babelsberg, who expressed his gratification at having secured the services of a leader so energetic. The departure of the expedition took place from Bremerhaven on the 15th of June following, in the presence of the King, his Royal Highness the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg Schwerin, Count (now Prince) Bismarck, General von Moltke, and other distinguished men. The King heartily shook the hands of the commander and his scientific corps, and inspected the vessels with much satisfaction. The parting moment at length arrived, and amid the salutes of artillery and hearty cheers from the crowds ashore, the vessels made for the mouth of the Weser, and put to sea.

The first part of the voyage was not specially eventful. The vessels several times parted company, but rejoined afterwards. The dense fogs which infest those latitudes were the cause of much anxiety on the part of the commanders. On July the 4th Dr. Copeland shot a gull, which fell in the sea, and was nearly the cause of a serious disaster. A sailor, without undressing, jumped overboard after it, and the vessel sailing rapidly was soon a considerable distance from him. He was almost on the point of sinking, when a boat, which had been hastily launched, reached him, and he was drawn out of the water. “Like a drowned poodle,” says the narrative, “the sinner stood once more amongst us, receiving as a reward a sound lecture from the captain, followed by a good draught of brandy.” On July the 5th they passed the Arctic circle (66° 33′), the Hansa being the first in the race, and the first to unfurl the North German flag. “Conformably to the custom,” says Koldewey, “as on crossing the equator, Neptune came on board to welcome us, and wish us success on our voyage; of course not without all those who had not yet crossed the Arctic circle having to undergo the rather rough shaving and christening customary on such occasions.... Universal grog and good fellowship on board both ships brought the ceremony to a close.”

After a separation of many days the vessels again joined on July 18th. A prize of a bottle of wine had been offered on board the Germania to the individual who should first sight the Hansa. Soon after breakfast on that day a sail is discovered from the topmast. It is a schooner, and as the whale fishers do not use such craft it must be [pg 260]the Hansa! A little later, and by getting up steam on board the larger vessel, they rejoined, and the officers met and compared notes. They parted that evening full of confident hopes for the future. Little did they think that the vessels would never meet again, and that although as comrades they would meet, a fourteen months’ interval must elapse! By the misunderstanding of a signal the Hansa set all sail and parted company when off the east coast of Greenland in lat. 70° 46′ N., long. 10° 51′ W., and soon became entangled in the ice, while they looked in vain from the “crow’s nest” for an opening. We shall now follow the fortunes of the Hansa.

That vessel was soon inextricably wedged in the ice. The coast of East Greenland was often in sight, and several unsuccessful attempts were made to reach it. During this period they had some sport with the polar bears. On September 12th a she bear and cub approached the vessel, the former being speedily shot. The young one was caught, escaped again, and at last was brought back swimming, and was chained to the ice-anchor. It was very much frightened, but nevertheless devoured its mother’s flesh when it was thrown to it. The men built it a snow house, and offered it a couch of shavings, but young Bruin, as a genuine inhabitant of the Arctic seas, despised such luxuries, and made its bed in the snow. Some days later it had disappeared, together with the chain, which must have become loosened from the anchor. From the weight of the iron alone the poor creature must soon have sunk. Other Arctic guests visited the Hansa. With a brisk wind came two white foxes from the coast, a certain proof that the ice must extend thither.

A YOUNG BEAR CHAINED TO AN ANCHOR.

Towards the end of September the necessity of wintering on the floating ice off the coast was decided upon, and they resolved on the erection of a winter house. Bricks were ready in the shape of “coal-tiles,” while water or snow was to form the mortar. Before anything else was done, the boats were cleaned out, covered with a roofing, and provisions placed ready for them in case of emergency. Captain Hegemann sketched the plan for the building, which was to have an area of 20 × 14 feet, with low roof. Wall-building has to be given up in frosty weather on land, not so on the ice. Finely-powdered snow was strewn between the interstices, and water poured upon it, which in ten minutes became solid ice-mortar. The roof was at first composed of sail-cloth and matting. Meantime the ice was grinding and surging around them, and threatening to crush the vessel at any moment. Underneath the ice-field it groaned and cracked, “now sounding like the banging of doors, now like many human voices raised one against the other, and lastly like the drag on the wheel of a railway engine.” The apparent cause was that the drifting ice was pressing in upon the fixed coast ice. Meantime the Hansa quivered in every beam, and the masts swayed to and fro. Provisions and stores were moved to the house in case of sudden disaster.

THE HOUSE OF THE HANSA ON THE ICE.

On the morning of the 19th a NNW. gale with snow-storm foreboded mischief. The air was gloomy and thick, and the coast four miles off could not be seen. The ice came pressing upon the vessel, and before noon the position became serious. The piled-up masses of “young ice,” four feet thick, pressed heavily on the outer side, and the vessel became tilted upwards at the bows. The men took their meals on deck, not knowing what might happen next. “Soon,” says the narrator, “some mighty blocks of ice pushed themselves under the bow of the vessel, and although they were crushed by it, they [pg 261]forced it up, slowly at first, then quicker, until it was raised seventeen feet out of its former position upon the ice. This movement we tried to ease as much as possible by shovelling away the ice and snow from the larboard side. The rising of the ship 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 [the translator means charts] were taken over 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.” At the end of the afternoon the ice retreated, and the vessel was once more again in her native element. The pumps were set to work, and it was soon made clear that all their exertions would not save the schooner, for the water steadily gained upon them. The fate of the Hansa was sealed, and the coal-house on the ice was destined to be their only refuge, may-be their grave.

The work of removing everything available went on steadily. A snow-storm had raged during the day, but it cleared in the evening; the moon shed her cold light over the dreary ice-fields, and ever and anon the Northern lights flashed over them in many changing colours. The men, whether at the pumps, or engaged in removing the stores, had a hard time of it. The decks were thick with ice, and those at the pumps stood in tubs to keep dry and warm. Night allowed the crew some few hours of welcome rest, and at early dawn all set to work again. “But the catastrophe was near; at 8 A.M. the men who were busy in the fore-peak, getting out firewood, came with anxious faces, with the news that the wood was already floating below. When the captain had ascertained the [pg 262]truth of this intelligence, he ordered the pumping to cease. It was evident that the ship was sinking, and that it must be abandoned.

“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 to the ice. The sinking of the vessel 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, &c. The snow-roof, too, 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! All articles, for greater safety, must be conveyed over a fissure to about thirty paces farther inland. The galley we at once took on a sledge to the house, as we should want it to give us warm coffee in the evening. We then looked after the sailor Max Schmidt, who was suffering from frost-bite, and brought him on planks under the fur covering to the coal-house. By 9 A.M. all were in the new asylum, which was lit by the cabin-lamp, and looked like a dreary tomb. Pleased with the completion of our heavy day’s work, though full of trouble for the future, we prepared our couch. A number of planks were laid upon the ground, and sail-cloth spread over them. Upon these we lay down, rolled in our furs. A man remained to watch the stove, as the temperature in the room had risen from 2° Fahr. to 27½° Fahr. It was a hard, cold bed; but sleep soon fell upon our weary, over-worked limbs. On the morning of the 21st we went again to the ship to get more fuel. The coal-hole was, however, under water. We therefore chopped down the masts, and hauled them with the whole of the tackle on to the ice—a work which took us nearly the whole day. At eleven the foremast fell, at three the mainmast followed; and now the Hansa really looked a complete, comfortless wreck. For the last time the captain and steersman went on deck, and about six o’clock loosed the ropes, which, by means of the ice-anchor held the ship to the field, as we feared that our floe, which bore all our treasures, might break.” The scientific collections and photographs had to be utterly abandoned. On the night of the 21st and 22nd the wreck sank, about six miles from the coast of Greenland. The jolly-boat, which stood loose on deck, floated, and was drawn on the ice.

CHAPTER XXX.

On an Ice-Raft.

A Floating Ice-Raft—The Settlement—Christmas in a New Position—Terrible Storms—Commotion under the Ice—The Floe breaks up—House Ruined—Water on the Floe—A Spectre Iceberg—Fresh Dangers and Deliverances—Drifted 1,100 Miles—Resolution to Leave the Ice—Open Water—Ice again—Tedious Progress—Reach Illuidlek Island—Welcome at the Greenland Settlements—Home in Germany—Voyage of the Germania—Discovery of Coal—A New Inlet—Home to Bremen.

Slowly but steadily their ice-field drifted to the south, and by November 3rd they had reached Scoresby’s Sound, sometimes being near the coasts and sometimes far from them. Since the ship had sunk, fourteen days before, the ice had closed in upon them, and even the blocks which had broken away from their field had frozen to it again. Their floating ice-raft was by degrees investigated in every quarter, roads cleared, and marks set up for short tours. The mass of ice was at this time about seven nautical miles in circumference, and seemed to have a diameter in all directions of over two miles. The ice-raft, on which (as Dr. Laube aptly remarked) they “were as the Lord’s passengers,” had an average thickness above the water of five feet, and they considered that there was a submergence of forty feet. “Our settlement,” says the narrative, “at the beginning of November, when we were not yet snowed up, might be seen from the most distant points of our field. Near the chief building lay two snow-houses, which served for washing and drying ourselves. Boats, heaps of wood, barrels containing coal and bacon, surrounded this heart of our colony. To prevent the entrance of the snow and wind into our coal-house, we built an entrance-hall with a winding path, and a roof constructed in the same way as that of the house.”

In November, upon a neighbouring floe, separated from them by a small interval of freshly-frozen water, they saw the shapeless body of a large walrus lying motionless as a rock. As soon as the boat could be launched several of them went in pursuit, and with a needle-gun succeeded in killing it, although in its dying struggles it tried furiously to smash the young ice on which the hunters stood, and seize them when once in the water. It took ten men with a powerful pulley several hours before they succeeded in getting the walrus out of the water on to the ice. Late that same evening a white bear, the first of their winter’s campaign, was attracted to the house by the smell of the walrus fat. Three shots greeted him, the effect of which could not be seen until the following morning. “About 100 yards distant lay the bear, hit in the head by the bullet, as if asleep, though quite dead, on the snow. It was a fine handsome beast; its well-developed head lay upon its front paws; the red drops of blood stood sharply out against the clean white snow.” It was a gift from heaven to them in their position. The four hams weighed 200 pounds.

The shortest day was passed, and still they were safe. They determined that, whether or no fated to see another Christmas, they would celebrate the present one. “In the afternoon,” says the narrative, “whilst we went for a walk, the steersman put up the Christmas-tree, and on our return the lonely coal-hut shone with wonderful brightness. Keeping Christmas on a Greenland floe! Made of pinewood and birch-broom, the tree was artistically put together. For the lights, Dr. Laube had saved some wax candles. Paper chains and [pg 264]home-baked gingerbread were not wanting. The men had made a knapsack and a revolver case for the captain; we opened the leaden box from Professor Hochstetter, and the other from the Geological Reichsanstalt, which caused much merriment. Then we had a glass of port wine, and fell upon the old newspapers in the boxes, and distributed the gifts, which consisted of small musical instruments, such as whistles, jew’s-harps, and trumpets, also little puppets and games of roulette, cracker bonbons, &c. In the evening chocolate and gingerbread nuts. ‘In quiet devotion’ (says Dr. Laube in his day-book) ‘the festival passed by; the thoughts which passed through our minds (they were much alike with all), I will not put down. If this should be the last Christmas we were to see it was at least bright enough. If, however, we are destined for a happy return home the next will be a brighter one. May God grant it!’ ”

THE SUN AT MIDNIGHT IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

Early next morning they were awakened by a shout from the watch. They were apparently drifting to land! An island seemed to be straight ahead of them. Amid great alarm, all turned out. The air was thick, but about three miles off they could distinguish a dark mass, which looked like an island. It proved to be an enormous iceberg. Next day they passed the drifting mass, which moved much slower than their field.

On January 2nd a frightful storm arose, with driving snow. Alarming noises were [pg 265]heard under the ice. “It was a scraping, blustering, crackling, sawing, grating, and jarring sound, as if some unhappy ghost was wandering under our floe.” Perplexed, they all jumped out, but could detect no change. They lay down, and applying their ears to the floor, could hear a rustling like the singing of ice when closely jammed, and as if water were running under the floe. They felt that there was great danger of a break-up, either from being driven over sunken rocks or against the fixed ice of the coast, or, may-be, both at once, and they packed their furs and filled their knapsacks with provisions. Ropes from the house were fastened to the boats, so that in case of a catastrophe they might be able to reach them. But the driving snow was so terrible that they hardly dare move, and they passed a night of misery, expecting each minute to be their last. At nine next morning the longed-for twilight appeared, and an hour later the wind abated a little. Some of them went in the direction of the “quay,” for thus had they christened the spot, 500 steps from the house, where the sunken Hansa lay. They there found a new wall of ice, and recognised to their horror that this wall was now the boundary of their floe, whilst on all sides of it large pieces had broken off, and rose in dark shapeless masses out of the drifted snow. When, on the morning of the 4th, the storm had worn itself out, they found that their floating ice-raft had considerably diminished in size. The diameter, before over two nautical miles, had now reduced to one; on three sides the house was close to the edges, and on the fourth it was not over 1,000 steps, where it had previously been 3,000. The following days were pretty good, and they got their boats out from the snow, dug out the firewood, and employed themselves in constructing swimming-jackets and snow-shoes out of cork, the latter to prevent themselves sinking up to the hips, as they had often done before.

The days from the 11th to the 15th of January were destined to bring new horrors. On the first-named day a heavy storm with driving snow prevailed, in the midst of which the man on watch burst into the house with the alarm, “All hands turn out!” Hastily gathering their furs and knapsacks, they rushed to the door, to see it almost completely snowed up. To gain the outside quickly they broke through the snow-roof, to find that the tumult of the elements was something beyond anything they had previously experienced. Scarcely able to move from the spot, they huddled together for warmth and mutual protection. Suddenly a new cry arose: “Water on the floe close by!” The heavy waves washed over the ice: the field began to break on all sides. On the spot between the house and the piled-up wood, a gap opened. All seemed lost. The firewood was drifting into the raging sea; the boats were in danger, and without this last resource, what would they do? The community was divided into two parts. Sadly, though hastily, these brave Germans bade each other good-bye, for none of them expected to see the morrow. Cowering in the shelter of their boats, they stood shivering all day, the fine pricking snow penetrating their very clothes. Their floe, from its last diameter, about a mile, had dwindled to 150 feet. Towards evening, the heavy sea subsided, and the ice began to again pack and freeze together. Shortly after midnight a new terror arose, the sailor on watch rushing in with the information that they were drifting on an iceberg. All rushed to the entrance, where they could, in the midnight gloom, distinguish a huge mass of ice, of giant proportions. “It is past,” said the captain. Was it really an iceberg, the mirage of one, or the high coast? They could not decide the question, for owing to the rapidity of the drift, the ghastly object had disappeared the next moment.

Again on the 14th a frightful storm raged, and the ice was once more in motion. The floe broke in the immediate vicinity of the house, and the boats had to be dragged near it. “All our labour,” says the narrative, “was rendered heavier by the storm, which made it almost impossible to breathe. About eleven we experienced a sudden fissure which threatened to tear our house asunder; with a thundering noise an event took place, the consequences of which, in the first moments, deranged all calculations. God only knows how it happened that, in our flight into the open, none came to harm. But there, in the most fearful weather, we all stood roofless on the ice, waiting for daylight, which was still ten hours off. The boat King William lay on the edge of the floe, and might have floated away at any moment. Fortunately, the fissure did not get larger. As it was somewhat quieter at midnight, most of the men crept into the captain’s boat, when the thickest sail we had was drawn over them. Some took refuge in the house; but there, as the door had fallen in, they entered by the skylight, and in the hurry broke the panes of glass, so that it was soon full of snow. This night was the most dreadful one of our adventurous voyage on the floe. The cold was -9½° Fahr. (41½° below freezing). Real sleep, at least in the boat, was not to be thought of; it was but a confused, unquiet, half-slumber, which overpowered us from utter weariness, and our limbs quivered convulsively as we lay packed like herrings in our furs. The cook had, in spite of all, found energy enough in the morning to make the coffee in the house, and never had the delicious drink awakened more exhausted creatures to life. The bad weather raged the whole day. We lay in the boat, half in water, half in snow, shivering with the frost, and wet to the skin.” Next night was passed in the same comfortless position, but on the morning of the 16th the second officer caught sight of a star, and never was there a more welcome omen. For five nights they slept in the boats, but by the 19th they had partially rebuilt their house, although from this time forth they had to take it in turns to sleep in the boats, their new erection being only one-half the size of the older one. Throughout all the discomfort, want, hardships, danger of all kinds, the frame of mind among the men was good, undaunted, and exalted. The cook kept a right seamanlike humour, even in the most critical moments. As long as he had tobacco nothing troubled him.

And so it went on from day to day: fresh dangers were followed by fresh deliverances, and in spite of all the perils encountered, no lives were lost, nor were there any serious cases of sickness. By May they had spent eight months on their ice-raft, and had drifted 1,100 miles. On the morning of the 7th they were agreeably surprised to see open water in the direction of land. The captain, considering that the moment had arrived when they should leave the floe and try to reach the coast, called a council. This project received almost unanimous approbation, and in feverish haste and impatience the boats were hauled empty over three floes, the stores and necessaries being carried after them, partly on sledges and partly on the back. At four P.M. they set sail, the officers and crew being divided into three companies. They made seven miles, and then hauled up on a small floe. After finding a low spot, and first emptying the boats, they were lifted, by swinging them in the water, till the third time, when a strong pull and a pull all together brought their bows on the ice, and they were soon bodily on its surface. Next day by noon they were not more than four or five miles from the land, but the ice was densely packed in irregular masses. Bad weather, with much snow, detained them six days on a floe; and [pg 267]then, having proceeded some little distance, they were again condemned to five days’ detention. Their provisions were getting low; they had rations left for not over a month. As no change took place in the ice, they resolved to drag their boats over it to the island of Illuidlek, which, after delays and dangers very similar to those encountered by Parry on his memorable Polar sledge and boat journey, was reached on June 4th. A little later they successfully sailed to the Greenland Moravian mission station of Friedrichstal, where their troubles ended, and where they received a hearty welcome. A Danish vessel brought them to Copenhagen on September 1st, and it then became evident that it was time to pay some attention to their outward appearance. In their forlorn condition they could not leave the ship, or they might have been compromised with the police. Some were in seal-skin caps, some in furs, others in sea boots from which the toes protruded, with ragged trousers, threadbare coats, and a general air of Arctic seediness. At length Captain Hegemann fetched them away in the twilight, and took them to a clothing warehouse, where they were soon made to look more like civilised beings. A few days later, and they entered Bremen; not, indeed, in their own good ship, but by an express train, by its east gate, from Hamburgh. The Hansa men may safely await the judgment of their contemporaries, for throughout the narrative, good discipline, a hearty esprit de corps, unmurmuring submission to the inevitable—whatever it might be—and a determination to do and dare whatever might appear for their mutual advantage, appear on every page. Germany may well be proud of such sons—Arctic heroes every one of them. The fortunes of the Germania were less eventful.

Lieutenant Payer, while out on a sledging expedition, made an important discovery. On Kuhn Island he found a seam of coal, in places eighteen inches in thickness, alternating with sandstone. It would be strange if in some future age our supply of warmth should be furnished from Arctic fuel. Many fine zoological and botanical specimens were collected by the scientific gentlemen connected with this expedition. The leading discovery was that of a large inlet in lat. 73° 15′ N., which was named after the Emperor Franz Josef. Surrounding it were mountain peaks ranging as high as 14,000 feet. The Germania reached Bremen on September 11th, 1870—but a few days after the arrival of their brethren of the Hansa, and at a period when all Germany was en fête on account of their recent victories.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Hall’s Expedition—The Austro-Hungarian Expedition—Nordenskjöld.

Captain Hall’s Expedition—High Latitude Attained—Open Water Seen—Death of Hall—The Polaris Beset—An Abandoned Party—Six Months on a Floating Ice-floe—Rescue—Loss of the Steamer—Investigation at Washington—The Austro-Hungarian Expedition—The Tegethoff hopelessly Beset in the Ice—Two Long Weary Years—Perils from the Ice Pressure—Ramparts raised round the Ship—The Polar Night—Loss of a Coal-hut—Attempts to Escape—A Grand Discovery—Franz Josef Land—Sledging Parties—Gigantic Glaciers—The Steamer Abandoned—Boat and Sledge Journey to the Bay of Downs—Prof. Nordenskjöld’s Voyage—The North-East Passage an accomplished Fact.

But little record has been made, except in transient literature and Government reports, of the expedition concerning which we are about to write. Captain Charles Francis Hall’s name is, with the public, more intimately associated with “Life with the Esquimaux,” and but little with the fact that he succeeded in taking a vessel to a higher latitude than ever reached in that way before. He returned to America in 1869, having for five years lived with, and to a great extent as the natives, the result being that, excepting many errors of taste and style, he succeeded in producing a work which has a very special ethnological value. Before it had issued from the press, he had, encouraged by the then Secretary of the United States Navy, laid a plan before Congress for attempting to reach the North Pole viâ Smith Sound. He eventually succeeded in obtaining a grant of fifty thousand dollars for the purpose, while an old U.S. river gun-boat was placed at his disposal. She was re-named the Polaris. It was understood that no naval officer should accompany him, and he therefore engaged a whaling captain, one S. O. Buddington, to navigate the vessel. Two scientific gentlemen, Dr. Bessels and Mr. Meyer, accompanied him, as did Morton, Kane’s trusty friend, who has been so often mentioned in these pages.

The expedition sailed in the summer of 1871, and after having touched at Disco, Greenland, proceeded up Smith Sound, Kane Basin, and Kennedy Channel, across Polaris Bay (discovered and designated by Hall), eventually reaching 82° 16′ N., the highest latitude ever attained by a ship prior to Captain Nares’s expedition. Ice impeded their further progress. The strait into which they had entered was named after Mr. Robeson, and from the point which they had so speedily and easily attained, a water horizon was seen to the north-east. The vessel was laid up in a harbour named Thank-God Bay, where Captain Hall, after sundry minor explorations, died on November 8th, having endured severe suffering, the symptoms indicating paralysis and congestion of the brain. During his delirium he had expressed the opinion that they were trying to poison him, and before he would touch medicine, food, or wine, he made his clerk taste it. This being repeated at home, on the return of the expedition, a Government investigation of a careful and detailed nature took place at Washington, but led to nothing being elicited beyond the facts of a want of esprit de corps among some of the members, and that there had been some disagreeable dissensions on board. Captain Buddington had no ambition to distinguish himself in the field of science, which he evidently despised, being probably what is called a “practical” man—that is, one who must have immediate gain before his eyes to stir him to exertion—and there does not appear to have been any very earnest feeling on the part of the others. Hall died almost on the spot with which his name must ever [pg 269]be associated, and it is a melancholy fact that he should not have lived to reap the honours and rewards due to so much enterprise. The Polaris, a steam vessel of small power, and unadapted for the Arctic seas, had been taken to a point which the finest vessels ever employed in the exploration of the far north had previously failed in reaching.

THE FUNERAL OF CAPTAIN HALL.

The death of Captain Hall threw the command of the Polaris on Captain Buddington. In the second week of November, during a very heavy gale, the vessel dragged her anchors, but at last brought up safely in the lee of a large iceberg aground in the bay. She was made fast to it, and remained in that position for some time. During the winter and spring she was much damaged by the ice, and when she once more floated, in June, leaked badly. After sending out an expedition to Newman’s Bay, during the progress of which one of the boats was crushed like a nutshell by the grinding ice, Captain Buddington determined to sail for the United States. On August 15th the Polaris was in a position so dangerous among the ice that it was deemed necessary to place the boats with provisions on a large level floe, in order to prepare for contingencies. A dark night came on, a gale arose, and the steamer drifted away in an utterly unmanageable condition, her steam-pipes, valves, &c., being frozen up. For hours they could not get up steam on board, while they had little coal, and the boats were on the ice.

The condition of those left in charge of the boats and stores on the ice was apparently [pg 270]desperate. Tyson, the second officer, with the steward, cook, six sailors, and eight Esquimaux, passed a miserable night on the drifting floe. Next morning hope revived in their breasts when they saw the Polaris apparently steaming towards them, and all kinds of attempts were made to attract attention: an india-rubber blanket was hoisted on an oar, but all to no purpose. The steamer altered her course, disappearing behind a point of the land, and eighteen deserted beings were destined to a series of experiences similar to those recorded of the Hansa men. At the Washington investigation, it was shown that the captain had at the time hopes of saving his vessel, which, after all, had to be run ashore on Lyttelton Island, in a sinking condition. As they had the boats and a supply of provisions, he considered their condition better than his own.

The men on the ice did their best under the circumstances, and their experiences were hardly less eventful than those of the Germans in a similar strait. Their food became scarce as the winter advanced, but the Esquimaux were of considerable use to them in catching seals. They passed nearly six months on the drifting ice-floe (from October 15th, 1872, to April 1st, 1873), and when at length they left it, and were rescued by the sealing steamer Tigress, we can well imagine the revulsion of feeling described in their evidence before the Washington committee. Meantime the Polaris herself was ashore on Lyttelton Island, where Buddington, his officers and men, fourteen souls in all, had to pass the winter, fortunately under no great privations, as the stores were saved. They were eventually rescued by the Ravenscraig, a steam-whaler, and later, having been transferred to the whaler Arctic, reached Dundee, and eventually their own homes, in safety. In spite of the perils encountered by both parties, Captain Hall was the only one of the little band who did not live to reach his native land.

The Americans have, therefore, as we have indicated, stuck bravely to the Smith Sound route to the Pole, and a large proportion of English and foreign authorities still favour the same idea.

We have seen the staunch little Fox of M’Clintock’s expedition miraculously escape from the grinding surging ice after a detention of 242 days, any one of which might easily have been the last for its brave company; we have witnessed, in mental vision, the philosophical German crew of the ill-fated Hansa drifting 1,100 miles on their precarious ice-raft, to be saved, every man of them, at last; and we have just seen half of the Polaris men rescued from their peril on the floating ice-field after nearly six months of weary watching. Turn we now to one more example of the dangers of the Arctic seas to find a vessel to all appearance hopelessly encompassed in the ice-drifts, and destined not to make its escape before two long and dreary years had passed away.

When in 1874 the Austro-Hungarian expedition, after a long absence, during which nothing had been heard from it, returned in safety, many fears which had been felt were sensibly allayed; and when the public learned of the difficulties they had encountered and the grand discoveries made, it was generally voted a complete success. This expedition, under Lieutenant Weyprecht of the Navy and Lieutenant Payer of the Engineers—who had already made himself a name as an Arctic explorer in the second German expedition—had been partly organised at the expense of the public, and greatly aided by Count Wilczek, who accompanied it in his yacht as far as Barents Island. A very small steamer—no more [pg 271]than 220 tons—named the Tegethoff, was employed, and among its officers was Captain Carlsen, who it will be remembered, had circumnavigated Spitzbergen some time before, and was the discoverer of the Barents relics; he served in the capacity of ice-master. The crew, all told, only numbered twenty-four men. The expedition sailed from Bremerhaven on June 13th, 1872, provisioned for three years, and was soon among the ice of the north-east. Early in August the vessel became beset in such a manner that progress was next to impossible. “Subsequently,” says Lieutenant Payer, “we regained our liberty, and in latitude 75° N. we reached the open water extending along the coast of Novaya Zemlya. The decrease in temperature and quantity of ice showed, indeed, that the summer of 1872 was the very opposite of that of the year before.” The vessels kept company as far as the low Barents Islands, where the “thick-ribbed ice,” agitated and driven on the coast by winds and gales, stopped their progress for a week. On the 21st of August the Tegethoff got clear, and left her consort, the former steaming slowly towards the north. “Our hopes,” says Payer, “were vain. Night found us encompassed on all sides by ice, and (as it eventually proved) for two long and dreary years! Cheerless and barren of all hope the first year lay before us, and we were not any longer discoverers, but doomed to remain as helpless voyagers on a floe of drifting ice.” This is, so far as is known, the longest period for which a vessel has been ice-encompassed, and the reader will require no assistance to picture the apparently hopeless condition in which they found themselves, with but little prospect of accomplishing anything approaching exploration. With the autumn of 1872 came unusually severe weather, which caused the ice-blocks to re-freeze as soon as they were sawn asunder, and they were utterly unable to extricate the vessel, although every effort was made. On October 13th the ice broke up, and the collisions of and with enormous masses placed them in great danger. They were quite ignorant of their position and where they were drifting. In the sombre darkness of the long Arctic night they had to keep the boats and stores in readiness, as they might have to abandon the vessel at any moment. The floes were constantly uplifted by other ice underneath, but the little Tegethoff proved herself staunch and true. Eventually a rampart of ice was erected about the little vessel, which had to be continually watched and repaired, on account of the damage received from the pressure of surrounding ice. Amidst all these dangers the routine of the ship was admirably kept up. Divine service was observed, and a school established for the crew. The men suffered severely from scurvy and pulmonary complaints during the winter.

In the autumn of 1873 an important discovery was made. “We had,” says Payer, “long ago drifted into a portion of the Arctic sea which had not previously been visited; but in spite of a careful look-out we had not been able hitherto to discover land. It was, therefore, an event of no small importance, when, on the 31st of August, we were surprised by the sudden appearance of a mountainous country, about fourteen miles to the north, which the mist had up till that time concealed from our view.” They had no opportunity of reaching it until the end of October, when a landing was effected in lat. 79° 54′ N., on an island, lying off the mainland, to which they affixed the name of Count Wilczek, to whom the expedition had in great measure owed its existence. Their second Polar night of 125 days prevented any further exploration, but was passed without a recurrence of [pg 272]the dangers they had met the previous winter. Their winter quarters were comparatively safe, and being near the land they obtained a sufficiency of bear-meat, the animals often approaching the ship closely.

START OF LIEUT. PAYER’S SLEDGE EXPEDITION.

In the winter of 1874 several sledging parties were sent out. On the 24th of March, Lieutenant Payer, with six companions, left the vessel, dragging a large sledge freighted with provisions and stores to the extent of three-fourths of a ton. They succeeded in reaching the new land, after many a struggle with the ice-hummocks, snow-drifts, and floods of sea-water which had submerged some parts of the ice. Their difficulties were increased by the fact that a once fine team of dogs was reduced to three capable of being of service. Payer describes the new land as broken up by numerous inlets and fiords, and surrounded by innumerable islands. The mountains were of fair altitude—from 2,000 to 5,000 feet in height—while the glaciers in the valleys were of gigantic size, and formed a great feature in the wild scenery. Some visited “were characterised by their greenish-blue colour, the paucity of crevasses, and extraordinarily coarse-grained ice.” The vegetation was poor, as might be expected. To this hitherto unknown land the name of the Emperor Franz Josef was affixed. The party reached the high latitude of 81° 37′ N.

FALL OF THE SLEDGE INTO A CREVASSE.

The return journey to the vessel was made successfully, although the scarcity of [pg 273]provisions obliged them to make forced marches, and also necessitated a division of the party remaining behind under a cliff on Hohenlohe Island, while Payer, with two of the crew and a small sledge, pressed forward for aid. Crossing an enormous glacier on Crown Prince Rudolf Land, one of the men, the sledge and dogs, fell into a gigantic crevasse which [pg 274]the snow had concealed. Payer himself might have come to grief had not he had presence of mind enough to cut the harness by which he was attached to the sledge. For a time the case looked very bad, as they were unable to extricate the unfortunate explorer. Payer, however, with that quickness which is one of his distinguishing characteristics, immediately ran back some twelve miles to the other party, and obtained assistance. They had eventually the happiness of rescuing the man, &c., by means of ropes. After many perils in the journey over the rotten ice they succeeded in joining the anxious little band on the vessel. Alas! the Tegethoff, which had passed unscathed so many dangers, had to be abandoned in the ice, and a journey by boat and sledge commenced, very similar to that of Barents, made three centuries before. After mournfully nailing the flags to the ship’s mast, on May 20th they started on their doubtful and adventurous trip. It took them over three months (ninety-six days) to reach the Bay of Downs, in lat 72° 4′, where they happily met a Russian schooner, and their troubles were over.

And now to the Arctic expedition which stands out pre-eminently above almost any other whatever. Professor Nordenskjöld may be congratulated on having performed the most intrepid and daring feat of the present century, speaking in a geographical point of view. The North-East Passage has been accomplished. “The splendid success,” said a leading journal, “has been splendidly deserved. It was no lucky accident of exploration that found the Vega a way round the northernmost point of Asia, or chance good fortune that carried her through new seas to the Behrings Straits. Professor Nordenskjöld has fought it out fairly with Nature. The combat has been a long one, and round after round had to be toughly contested before the Professor closed with his opponent, the Arctic Ocean, and floored the grim old tyrant. Six times he has gone northward to do battle with ice and snow, and each time, though returning, he has brought back such knowledge of the enemy’s weakness that assured him of ultimate success.” Unfortunately the details as yet at hand are meagre, and only the bare outlines of the story can be presented. Some of the important scientific results of the expedition will be referred to in future pages.

The Vega, a tough, teak-built steam whaler, left Gothenburg on July 4th, 1878, sighted Nova Zembla on the 28th, and anchored that day off a village on the Samoyede peninsula at the entrance of the Kara Sea, once known as the Ice Cave, but which of late has lost its terrors for even the hardy Norwegian fisherman. Nordenskjöld knew the right season to attempt its passage, and it was surprised when almost free of ice. On August 1st, after making many scientific observations of importance, the Vega proceeded slowly eastward, nothing but rotten ice, which in no way impeded the vessel, being met. In a few days they were safely anchored in Dickson’s Haven, Siberia, a spot perhaps destined to become an important exporting point. Bears and reindeer were found to be numerous, and the vegetation extremely rich. On the 10th the Vega again proceeded, and threading her way through unknown islands, reached a fine harbour situated in the strait that separates Taimyr Island and the mainland, where they dredged for marine specimens with great success. Again resuming the voyage, they, on the evening of the 19th, anchored in a bay round Cape Chelyuskin, the most northerly point of the Asiatic continent. This, the once unconquerable cape, had now been conquered, and that fact alone would have constituted a splendid triumph, although it now only forms an episode in this grand [pg 275]voyage. Low mountains, free from snow, were seen to the southward; geese, ducks, and other birds were seen on the coast, while the ocean was alive with walrus, seals, and whales. On the 21st, though delayed by fogs and rotten ice, the Vega coasted south-east; and on the 23rd, aided by a fine breeze and a smooth sea, was able to dispense with steam. At the Chatanga river they shot bears and wild fowl to their heart’s desire. On the 26th they passed the entrance to the mouth of the Lena, and on the 27th turned northward for the Siberian Islands, which they were prevented from exploring, owing to the ice. Nordenskjöld ordered the vessel’s head to be turned southward, and they passed the mouth of the great Kolyma river. Soon they were among the ice, and, as they had anticipated, were to be imprisoned in it. But the health of the party was excellent, and no scurvy whatever appeared; their own provisions were of the best; and after passing Cook’s Cape, Vankarema, the Vega crossed to Kolintchin, where the furnaces were put out, the sails stowed, and winter life fairly commenced. At a mile distance ashore there was a Tchuktchi village of 4,000 souls, all living easily, for fish and seals, bear, wolf, and fox, were abundant, while in spring the geese, swans, and ducks, returned from the south. For nearly nine months they were ice-bound; but at last the ice floes broke up and scattered, and the little Vega soon passed East Cape, the extremity of Asia, and steamed gaily into Behring Straits, where a salute was fired, announcing a success unprecedented in the annals of Arctic history. The Professor believes that voyages may be regularly performed in the future which will open up a considerable trade with northern Siberia.

Surrounded by almost every conceivable difficulty and danger, Arctic research has witnessed and developed more genuinely heroic skill and enterprise than has been needed or found in the exploration of any other portion of our globe. With all its dangers the North Polar world possesses a rare fascination for the adventurous, and has something to offer in palliation of its monotonous desolation. The yet unknown must always have charms for the greatest minds, even though it should prove practically unknowable; the undiscovered may not always be so, for the unfathomed of the past may be fathomed to-day. The Polar regions offer much to the scientist, and, in some phases, much to the artist. The beautiful Aurora flashes over the scene and banishes the darkness of the Arctic night. The vastness of Nature’s operations are shown in the huge icebergs clad in dazzling whiteness or glittering in the moon’s silvery rays in the interminable fields of fixed or floating ice, in glacial rivers of grandest size. As the bergs melting in the warmer waves assume endless fantastic forms—as of pointed spires, jagged steeples, or castellated remains, and as, losing the centre of gravity, they roll over to assume new forms, or meeting together crash like thunder or the roar of artillery, throwing up great volumes of foam, disturbing the surface of the sea for miles, the puniness of man is felt, and the mind inevitably lifted from Nature up “to Nature’s God.”

Much has been done; still, there is yet work which remains to be accomplished in the Arctic seas. But brave men will never be wanting when new attempts are made. As the old sea-captain, looking at the chart in Millais’ picture, says, concerning the North-West Passage, “It might be done—and England ought to do it!”

CHAPTER XXXII.

The Antarctic Regions.

Has the South Pole been Neglected?—The Antarctic even more Inhospitable than the Arctic—The Antarctic Summer—Search for the Terra Australis—Early Explorers—Captain Cook’s Discoveries—Watering at Icebergs—The Southern Thule—Smith’s Report—Weddell’s Voyage—Dead Whale Mistaken for an Island—D’Urville’s Adélie Land—Wilkes Land—Voyages of James Ross—High Land Discovered—Deep Beds of Guano—Antarctic Volcanoes—Mounts Erebus and Terror—Victoria Land.

One might well inquire, without a previous knowledge of the reasons, why the South Pole has not received the attention which has been lavished on the North. The fact is that while the Arctic regions do not present many attractions for travel, and certainly even less for residence or settlement, the Antarctic regions are still more unpromising in both particulars. The extreme intensity of Antarctic cold is found to commence at a much higher latitude than in the northern hemisphere. In the Arctic seas large icebergs are rarely found till the 70th parallel of latitude is reached, while stationary fields are met in a still higher latitude. In the South Pacific both occur at from 50° to 60° of southern latitude. The mountains of Cape Horn, of Terra del Fuego, and outlying islands, are covered with perpetual snow quite to their sea-coasts. “This contrast,” say Professor Tomlinson, in one of the few general works we possess on the subject,[42] “has been ascribed to the shorter stay which the sun makes in the southern hemisphere than in the northern. But this difference, amounting to scarcely eight days, has been proved to be exactly compensated by the greater nearness of the earth to the sun during the southern than during the northern summer. Another cause must therefore be sought, and as it is a fact that water becomes less heated by the same amount of sunshine than any solid substance, this cause will be found in the vast extent of the Antarctic seas, the total absence of any great surface of land, and the form of the continents which terminate towards the south almost in points, thus opening a free and unencumbered field to the currents from the Polar seas, and allowing them to push forward the icy masses in every direction from the south pole towards the southern and temperate zone.”

The word Antarctic explains itself as that part of the earth opposite to the Arctic.[43] Winter in the one corresponds to summer in the other, and vice versâ. When the Arctic circle is delighting in one long summer day, the Antarctic regions are oppressed by the darkest gloom. When we in England are, or should be, enjoying the bright days of midsummer, the southern Polar regions are pitchy dark, while at our Christmas-tide that part of the earth is bathed in floods of sunshine.

It has been seen that our knowledge of the North Polar seas has been largely the result of explorations in search of a north-western or north-eastern passage or strait to the Pacific. The exploration of the Antarctic regions is mainly due to quests after a continent in the southern seas—the Terra Australis incognita of many old geographers. The belief in the existence of such a land can be traced back as far as 1576, when Juan Fernandez is reported to have sailed southward from Chile, and to have arrived after a month’s voyage at a tierra ferme, a charming fertile land inhabited by friendly and almost civilised [pg 277]natives. If the story be not altogether apocryphal, it may possibly have been some part of New Zealand. At the same period there were wild reports in circulation concerning the discovery by Alvaro Mendana de Neyra of some southern islands abounding in silver. That navigator, however, could not find them at all in a later voyage, and perished miserably, with many of his companions, at Egmont, or Santa Cruz Island. His pilot, Pedro Fernandez de Quiros, in 1605-6 made a professed voyage in search of the southern continent, his voyage resulting in the discovery of Pitcairn’s Island, the New Hebrides, and other lands, while one of his captains, Luis Vaes de Torres, passed through the strait between Australia and New Guinea now named after him. The first actual approach to the then unknown southern polar lands appears to have been made by one Dirk Gerritz, a Dutchman, in January, 1600. This vessel was in the East India service, and was driven by a gale from the immediate latitude of the Straits of Magellan far to the south, where he discovered a barren, craggy, snow-covered coast, similar to that of Norway. His accounts were discredited, but have since proved to have been accurate enough, and the land is now known as New South Shetland, and has been proved to cross the Antarctic circle. The expeditions of Kerguelen, sent out for the purpose of exploring the southern regions, resulted only in the discovery of the group of islands now known by his name. It is to the celebrated Captain Cook that we owe the earliest careful explorations of the south polar regions.

VIEW OF CAPE HORN.

Late in November, 1772, H.M. ships Resolution and Adventure left the Cape of Good Hope in search of the unknown continent, and early in December of the same year were driven by several gales among and in dangerous proximity to icebergs, one of which is [pg 278]described as flat at its top, about fifty feet in height, and half a mile in circuit. A large number of penguins and other birds were on these bergs, and this was deemed a reason for thinking land near. The ice islands yielded excellent fresh water, large detached lumps being taken on board and the sea water allowed to drain off on deck, when there was hardly a trace of salt perceptible to the taste. Part of it was kept as ice, while a quantity was melted in coppers. Cook said that it was the most expeditious way of watering he had seen. In the middle of February they had fair weather, with clear serene nights, when the beautiful Aurora Australis, or Southern Lights, were seen. “The officer of the watch observed that it sometimes broke out in spiral rays, and in a circular form; then its light was very strong, and its appearance beautiful. He could not perceive that it had any particular direction, for it appeared at various times in different parts of the heavens, and diffused its light throughout the whole atmosphere.” Bad weather followed, making navigation dangerous among the bergs, while it was bitterly cold. A litter of nine pigs was killed a few hours after their birth by the cold, in spite of all the care taken to preserve them. This was in the Antarctic summer, which, however, improved considerably afterwards. Captain Cook was then tempted to advance a few degrees to the south, but soon altered his mind when the weather again changed for the worse.

It was not till the 31st of January, 1775, on the same voyage, that Cook, who had become “tired of these high southern latitudes, where nothing was to be found but ice and thick fogs,” made a discovery of land. They had been sailing over a sea strewed with ice, when the fog lifting, three rocky islets of considerable elevation disclosed themselves at a distance of three or four miles, one terminating in a lofty peak like a sugar-loaf. It was named Freezeland Peak. To the east of this a high coast, with lofty snow-clad summits, appeared, and soon another broken coast-line came in sight, to which the name of Southern Thule was given, as it was the most southerly land yet discovered. Other coasts, promontories, and mountains, soon came in view, which Cook tells us had land apparently between them, leading him to the conclusion that the whole was connected. Prudence forbade him venturing nearer the coast. The reader must remember that his were not the days of steam.

New land appeared next morning, with outlying islands, named the Candlemas Isles in honour of the day on which they were discovered. The whole of the new land was named Sandwich Land, and was supposed to be either a group of islands, or the point of a continent. Cook firmly believed in a tract of land near the Pole as the source of most of the icebergs in those seas, but did not attempt a further exploration.

It was not till the year 1819 that the commander of the brig William, Mr. William Smith, sailing south-east from the latitude of Cape Horn, noted in latitude 62° 30′ S. and longitude 60° W., an extensive snow-covered land, on the coasts of which seals were abundant. As he was bound with a cargo to Valparaiso, he could not follow up his discovery; but on arrival at that port informed H.B.M. Consul, Captain Sheriff, of the fact he had ascertained, and that gentleman dispatched Mr. Edward Barnsfield, master of the frigate Andromache, to explore the new-found land. It was found to consist of a group of islands, numbering twelve, with innumerable rocky islets between them. There was little doubt that it was a part of the same land sighted by Gerritz more than two centuries before, and now known as the South Shetlands. They were further explored in 1820 by Mr. [pg 279]Weddell, whose crews obtained an immense number of sea-elephants and fur seals. These islands are nearly inaccessible, being ice-bound, while almost any part of them, other than perpendicular cliffs, is perpetually snow-covered. There are a few small patches of straggling grass where there is any soil, and a moss similar to that found in Iceland. In 1821 other additions were made to our knowledge of islands adjacent to the South Shetlands by Captains Powell and Palmer, the latter an American, and by the Russian navigator, Bellinghausen, who reached a very southern point. They are respectively known as Trinity, Palmer’s, and Alexander’s Lands. A voyage in 1822 has importance, as it led to valuable results, in a commercial point of view. The brig Jane, of Leith, Captain Weddell, with a crew of twenty-two officers and men, accompanied by a cutter, set sail in September of that year on a voyage to the South Seas for the purpose of procuring fur seals. At the beginning of January, 1823, the vessels first came in sight of the land of the high southern latitude, and the next day reached the South Orkneys. The tops of the islands mostly terminated in craggy peaks, and looked almost like the mountain tops of a sunken land. Proceeding southward, they one evening passed very close to an object which appeared like a rock. The lead was immediately thrown out, but no bottom could be found. It turned out to be a dead whale, very much swollen, floating on the surface. Weddell obtained at South Georgia a valuable cargo. From the sea-elephant no less than 20,000 tons of oil were obtained in a few seasons, the cargoes always including a large number of fur sealskins. American sealers also took large cargoes of these skins to China, where they sold for five or six dollars a skin. The Island of Desolation, described by Cook, was also a source of great profit. “This is a striking, but by no means uncommon example of the commercial advantage to be derived from voyages of discovery.” In 1830, Captain Biscoe, commanding the sealing brig Eliza Scott, made the discovery of another range of islands, since named after him. In 1839, Captain Balley, in a ship belonging to Messrs. Enderby, the owners of the last-named vessel, discovered land in latitude 66° 44′ S., which was in all probability a portion of the same territory sighted by Wilkes and D’Urville a year afterwards. Thus, while America and France claim the honour of having discovered an “Antarctic continent,” Balley seems to have forestalled them. It is extremely doubtful whether the patches of land seen by these explorers can be considered to form a great southern continent.[44]

D’Urville, after describing the “lanes” of tall icebergs by which his ship was enclosed and impeded, states that they sighted land, some few miles off, with prominent peaks 3,000 feet and upwards in height, and surrounded with coast ice. Some boats were sent off to make magnetic observations, and one of the officers succeeded in landing on a small rocky islet, on which the tricolour flag was unfurled. Not the smallest trace of vegetable life could be discovered. Numerous fragments of the rock itself were carried off as trophies. Close at hand were eight or ten other islets. The land thus discovered was named Adélie Land (after Admiral D’Urville’s wife). A projecting cape, which had been seen early in the day, was called Cape Discovery, and the islet on which the landing was effected was named Point Geology.

Wilkes describes his discoveries in similar terms to those of previous explorers already mentioned. Stones, gravel, sand, mud, &c., were noted on a low iceberg, proving the existence of land somewhere about, but it must be borne in mind that a landing on anything but ice was not effected.

An attempt on the part of Captain (afterwards Sir James) Ross to establish magnetic observations in the southern hemisphere was unsuccessful, but resulted in a discovery of importance. On January 11th, 1841, land was sighted, rising in lofty snow-covered peaks, the elevation of some of which was stated to be from 12,000 feet to 14,000 feet. Various peaks were named after Sabine and other distinguished philosophers who had advocated the cause of the expedition. With some difficulty they landed on an island, on which they planted our flag, and drank a toast to the health of the Queen and Prince Albert. It was named Possession Island. There was no vegetation, but “inconceivable myriads of penguins completely and densely covered the whole surface of the island, along the ledges of the precipices, and even to the summits of the hills, attacking us,” says Ross, “vigorously as we waded through their ranks, and pecking at us with their sharp beaks, disputing possession; which, together with their loud coarse notes, and the insupportable stench from the deep bed of guano, which had been forming for ages, and which may at some period be valuable to the agriculturists of our Australasian colonies, made us glad to get away again, after having loaded our boats with geological specimens and penguins.” Whales were very numerous; thirty were counted at one time in various directions.

Further south the interesting discovery was made of an active volcano, a mountain 12,400 feet altitude, emitting flame and smoke at the time. It was named after the Erebus, one of the vessels employed, while a second volcano, scarcely inferior in height to the first-named, was called Mount Terror, after our staunch old friend the vessel which so well withstood the ice in Sir George Back’s expedition. “On the afternoon of the 28th,” says Ross, “Mount Erebus was observed to emit smoke and flame in unusual quantities, producing a most grand spectacle; a volume of dense smoke was projected at each successive jet with great force, in a vertical column, to the height of between 1,500 and 2,000 feet above the mouth of the crater, when, condensing first at its upper part, it descended in mist or snow, and gradually dispersed, to be succeeded by another splendid exhibition of the same kind in about half an hour afterwards, although the intervals between the eruptions were by no means regular. The diameter of the columns of smoke was between two and three hundred feet, as near as we could measure it; whenever the smoke cleared away, the bright red flame that filled the mouth of the crater was clearly perceptible; and some of the officers believed they could see streams of lava pouring down its sides until lost beneath the snow, which descended from a few hundred feet below the crater, and projected its perpendicular icy cliff several miles into the ocean.”

The whole of the land traced to the seventy-ninth degree of latitude was named Victoria Land. Ross “restored to England the honour of the discovery of the southernmost known land,” which had previously belonged to Russia, as won twenty years before by the intrepid Bellinghausen. A second and a third visit was made by Ross, on the latter of which he made some discoveries of minor importance.

LISBON IN THE 16TH CENTURY. (After an Engraving of the period.)

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Decisive Voyages in History.—Diaz—Columbus.

An Important Epoch in the History of Discovery—King John II. of Portugal and his Enterprises—Diaz the Bold—Ventures out to Sea—Rounds the Cape—Ignorant of the Fact—The Cape of Storms—King John re-christens it—Columbus and the Narrative of his Son—His Visit to Portugal—Marriage—An un-royal Trick—Sends his Brother to England—His Misfortune—Columbus in Spain—A prejudiced and ignorant Report—The One Sensible Ecclesiastic—Again Repulsed—A Friend at Court—Queen Isabella Won to the Cause—Departure of the Expedition—Out in the Broad Atlantic—Murmurs of the Crews—Signs of Land—Disappointment—Latent Mutiny—Land at Last—Discovery of St. Salvador—Cuba—Natives Smoking the Weed—Utopia in Hispaniola—Columbus Wrecked—Gold Obtained—First Spanish Settlement—Homeward Voyage—Storms and Vows—Arrival in Europe—Triumphant Reception at Barcelona.

The Arctic and Antarctic voyages, purposely kept together and followed to their latest developments, having been described, we now go back to the most interesting and important period in the world’s history, geographically considered. In little less than a dozen years three of the grandest discoveries in geography were made. First, the discovery of a passage round the Cape of Good Hope, the sea-portal to the Indian Ocean, the Orient generally, Australasia (not, indeed, then discovered, or even dreamt of), and the innumerable islands of the various Eastern Archipelagos. Next, the passage of the Atlantic ocean to the far west, the discovery of the West Indies and the New World. Last, and not least, in its ultimate bearings on the prosperity of Great Britain, the passage by sea direct to India—its conquest and settlement by the Portuguese. What other epoch can boast so much accomplished in a time so brief?

To King John of Portugal are we indebted for the first of these great discoveries. He fitted out a small squadron under Bartholomew Diaz, a knight of the royal household, to attempt the passage by sea to India, after endeavouring to learn all that was then known about that [pg 282]country. For this important enterprise Diaz was supplied with two small caravels of fifty tons each, accompanied by a still smaller vessel, or tender, to carry provisions. The preparations being completed, he sailed in the end of August, 1486, steering directly to the southward.

“We have,” says Clarke, “no relation of the particulars of this voyage, and only know that the first spot on which Diaz placed a stone pillar, in token of discovery and possession, was at Sierra Parda, in about 24°, 40′ S., which is said to have been 120 leagues further to the south than any preceding navigator. According to the Portuguese historians, Diaz sailed boldly from this place to the southward, in the open sea, and never saw the land again until he was forty leagues to the east of the Cape of Good Hope, which he had passed, without being in sight of land.” Here he came in sight of a bay on the coast, which he called Angra de los Vaqueros, or Bay of Herdsmen, from observing a number of cows grazing on the land. From this place Diaz continued his voyage eastwards, to a small island or rock in the bay, which is now called Algoa, on which he placed a stone cross, or pillar, as a memorial of his progress, and named it on that account Santa Cruz, or El Pennol de la Cruz.

It would appear that Diaz was still unconscious that he had long reached and overpassed the extreme southern point of Africa, and was anxious to continue his voyage still farther. But the provisions on board his two caravels were nearly exhausted, and the victualling tender under the command of his brother was missing. The crews of the caravels became exceedingly urgent to return, lest they should perish with famine. With some difficulty he prevailed on the people to continue their course about twenty-five leagues further on, as he felt exceedingly mortified at the idea of returning to his sovereign without accomplishing the discovery on which he was bent. They accordingly reached the mouth of a stream now known by the name of Great Fish River.

From this river, the extreme boundary of the present voyage, Diaz commenced his return homewards, and discovered, with great joy and astonishment, on their passage back, the long-sought-for and tremendous promontory, which had been the grand object of the hopes and wishes of Portuguese navigation during seventy-four years, ever since the year 1412, when the illustrious Don Henry first began to direct and incite his countrymen to the prosecution of discoveries along the western shores of Africa. At this place Diaz erected a stone cross in memory of his discovery; and owing to heavy tempests, which he experienced off the high table-land of the Cape, he named it Cabo dos Tormentos, or Cape of Storms; but the satisfaction which King John derived from this memorable discovery, on the return of Diaz to Portugal, in 1487, induced that sovereign to change this inauspicious appellation for one of more happy omen, and he accordingly ordered that it should in future be called Cabo de bon Esperança, or Cape of Good Hope, the title which it has ever since retained.

BARTHOLOMEW DIAZ ON HIS VOYAGE TO THE CAPE

Soon after the discovery of The Cape—by which shorter name it is now pre-eminently distinguished—Diaz fell in with the victualler, from whom he had separated nine months before. Of nine persons who had composed the crew of that vessel, six had been murdered by the natives of the West Coast of Africa, and Fernand Colozzo, one of the three survivors, died of joy on again beholding his countrymen. Diaz and his companions were, of course, honourably received by their sovereign, after a voyage of such unprecedented length and unusual success. And now to the second of the great discoveries of this epoch, which, chronologically considered, follows that of Diaz.

In the long list of honoured names who have made geographical discovery their aim, none shines with a greater effulgence than that of Columbus, and although in his old age he was disgracefully ignored and even maltreated, succeeding times have done full justice to his memory. The present writer has gone to the fountain source for his information; the whole of the narrative to follow is taken from the history written by his son, Don Ferdinand Columbus. It would be easy, from the many popular biographies written by well-known authors, to compile a more fanciful and readable story, but some, at least, of these writers have not strictly adhered to facts, but have wandered somewhat into the region of the imagination. The account given to the world by the son of the great navigator was compiled from the original letters and documents, from actual information obtained direct, and from personal observation.

The narrative of Don Ferdinand commences amusingly. He avers that many would have him prove a highly honourable descent for the admiral his father, and because on his arrival in Portugal he had assumed the name of Colon,[45] prove that he had come in direct line from Junius Colonus, who brought Mithridates a prisoner to Rome, or from the two illustrious Coloni, who gained a great victory over the Venetians. The son is, however, candid, and says, “that however considerable they (his progenitors) may once have been, it is certain that they were reduced to poverty and want through the long wars and factions in Lombardy. I have not been able to discover in what way they lived; though in one of his letters the admiral asserted that his ancestors and himself had always traded by sea.”[46] Don Ferdinand glories in his father as one of the people, who had risen to his high estate by reason of honourable merit. But however poor, he found means to leave his native city, Genoa, and study astronomy, geometry, and cosmography, at the University of Pavia. He is believed to have gone to sea at as early an age as fourteen. The date of his birth is uncertain, but is believed to have been in 1447. Besides voyaging constantly in the Mediterranean, he, as elsewhere recorded, made a northern voyage of some importance. He distinctly states that “In February, 1467, I sailed an hundred leagues beyond Thule, or Iceland.”

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.
(After a Portrait in the Gallery of Vicenza.)

In his person Columbus was “above the middle stature, and well shaped, having rather a long visage, with somewhat full cheeks, yet neither fat nor lean. His complexion was very fair with delicately red cheeks, having fair hair in his youth, which became entirely grey at thirty years of age. He had a hawk nose, with fair eyes. In his eating and drinking, and in his dress, he was always temperate and modest. In his demeanour he was affable to strangers, and kind and condescending to his domestics and dependents, yet with a becoming modesty and dignified gravity of manner, tempered with easy politeness.” His regard for religion was strict and sincere, and he had a great abhorrence of profane language. In a word, Columbus was one of nature’s truest gentlemen.

His son states that the reason for his visit to Portugal “arose from his attachment to a famous man of his name and family, named Columbus, long renowned on the sea as [pg 284]commander of a fleet against the infidels.” He must have commanded a goodly fleet, for while Christopher Columbus was with him he took four large Venetian galleys, after a desperate fight. The vessel in which Columbus was, took fire, and he had to leap into the water and make for the land, two leagues distant. He was an excellent swimmer, and, by the aid of a floating oar, he succeeded in landing on the coast near Lisbon. This was his first introduction to that city. Here he married a lady of good family, Donna Felipa Moniz. Her mother was the widow of Perestrello, one of the captains who had re-discovered Madeira, and she put at the disposal of Columbus all the charts and journals left by her husband, from which he learned much of the discoveries made by the Portuguese. It was at this time that he began to think seriously of attempting a passage to the Indies by the westward.

Columbus first laid his plans before Prince John of Portugal, who lent a favourable ear, but on account of the large expenses connected with his expedition to the Guinea Coast, which had not hitherto been crowned with any great success, could not promise immediate action. Later, by the advice of one Doctor Calzadilla, in whom he reposed great confidence, the King of Portugal resolved to attempt secretly the discovery which Columbus had proposed. Accordingly, a caravel was fitted out under pretence of carrying supplies to the Cape Verd Islands, with private instructions to sail to the west. Those sent on the expedition had little knowledge or enterprise, and after vaguely wandering about the Atlantic some time, returned to the Cape Verde Islands, laughing at the undertaking as [pg 285]ridiculous and impracticable. “When,” says the son, “this scandalous underhand dealing came to my father’s ears, he took a great aversion to Lisbon and the Portuguese nation.” Little wonder, one would think! His wife was now dead, and he resolved to repair to Castile with his little son. Lest, however, the Spanish sovereign might not consent to his proposals, he determined to send his brother, Bartholomew Columbus, from Lisbon, to make similar proposals to the King of England. Bartholomew was experienced in seamanship, and understood the construction of charts, globes, and nautical instruments. On the voyage he had the misfortune to be taken by pirates, who stripped him and the rest of the ship’s company of everything of value. Poor Bartholomew arrived in England in poverty and sickness. Undaunted by his misfortunes, he commenced making and selling charts, in order to recruit his finances. After much loss of time, he, in February, 1480, presented a map of his own construction, and the proposals of his brother, to the king, who became very favourably inclined towards the project; and ordered an invitation to be sent to Columbus, desiring him to come to England forthwith. But, alas! England was fated not to have the services of this great navigator. “Providence,” says Ferdinand, “had determined that the advantage of this great discovery should belong to Castile; and by this time my father had gone upon his first voyage.”

About the end of the year 1484 the admiral stole away privately from Lisbon, as he was afraid of detention. The king had by this time come somewhat to his senses, and it is asserted that he was desirous of renewing the conferences with Columbus. But he did not use much diligence, and thereby missed his last grand opportunity. Columbus next addressed himself to their Catholic Majesties of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella, then at Cordova. His affable manners and evident knowledge soon gained him a hearing; but as their Majesties considered that a matter of such importance required to be learnedly investigated, it was referred to the prior of Prado, afterwards Archbishop of Granada, who was to obtain the assistance of some cosmographers, and report on its practicability. The report they presented was unfavourable to the enterprise. Some thought Columbus presumptuous in expecting to accomplish that which skilful sailors of all nations had not done, although several thousand years had elapsed since the creation of the world. Others said that the world was of such prodigious size, that they questioned whether he would reach the Indies that way in three years. Others used the powerful argument that if they sailed round the world down from Spain, they would never get up again! No ship could climb up-hill! The ecclesiastics quoted St. Augustine, to the effect that the antipodes were an impossibility, and that no one could go from one hemisphere to another. Ignorance and credulity triumphed for the time, but not for long.

Columbus was not to be beaten. He followed the court to Seville, and was again repulsed. He resolved to write to the King of France, and, if unsuccessful there, follow his brother to England. But at this juncture he acquired the friendship of the father guardian of the monastery of Rabida, who, believing in his schemes, earnestly entreated him to postpone his departure, saying that, as he was confessor to the Queen, he was resolved to try his influence. All honour to Father Perez, the one sensible ecclesiastic of his nation! A fresh conference was held, but the demands of Columbus were deemed too high, and again the matter fell to the ground. The admiral settled his affairs, and prepared to leave for France.

He had actually started on his journey, when an officer was despatched after him to induce him to return. The queen had at last listened to the good counsels of Santangel (comptroller of the royal disbursements), who had before shown himself a friend to Columbus. He had pointed out to her majesty that the sum of money required was small, and that she was missing an opportunity that might redound greatly to the honour of her reign, and the credit of which now some foreign monarch would reap. From comparative apathy Isabella rose to enthusiasm, and the treasury being pretty well exhausted by the war with Granada, she offered to pawn her jewels in order to raise the necessary funds. Santangel immediately replied that there was no occasion for this, and that he himself would readily advance his own money in such a service.

All the conditions which the admiral required having been conceded, he set out from Granada on May 21st, 1492, for Palos, that seaport having been bound by the Crown to furnish two caravels. Columbus fitted these and a third vessel with all speed. His own ship was the St. Mary; the second, named the Pinta, was commanded by Martin Alonso Pinzon; and the third, the Nina, by the latter’s brother, Vincent Yanez Pinzon. The united crews comprised a force of ninety men. Columbus set sail on this, his first voyage in the service of Portugal, on the 3rd of August, 1492, making direct for the Canaries.

CARAVELS OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.
(After an Engraving published in 1583.)

The day after leaving, the rudder of the Pinta broke loose, and, after being repaired as well as they were able at sea, the fastenings gave way a second time. Alonzo Pinzon was more than suspected of having caused this damage purposely, as he had endeavoured to avoid proceeding on this voyage before the expedition left Spain. Having again repaired the rudder, they continued the voyage, and successfully came to an anchor at the Canaries on August 12th. The admiral tried in vain to obtain another vessel for Pinzon. At length the Pinta having been patched up, the little squadron set sail. “Now,” says Ferdinand, “losing sight of land, and stretching out into utterly unknown seas, many of the people expressed their anxiety and fear that it might be long before they should see land again; but the admiral used every endeavour to comfort them, with the assurance of soon finding the land he was in search of, and raised their hopes of acquiring wealth and honour by the discovery.” He purposely under-stated the distance made each day, in order to make his people believe that they were not so far from Spain after all; but he carefully recorded the true reckoning in private. On September 12th they discovered in the water the trunk of a large tree; and the people in the Nina, a few days later, observed a heron flying over them, and also a smaller bird. Next, a quantity of yellowish-green sea-weed was observed floating in the water; a small lobster and a number of tunny fish were also [pg 287]noted. These signs of approaching land raised hopes which were not immediately fulfilled; and the crews, being utterly unacquainted with the seas they now traversed, seeing nothing but water and sky, began to mutter among themselves. Later, a number of seagulls and small land birds were seen, the latter settling sometimes in the rigging. Again, a vast floating field of sea-weed was encountered. These appearances gave some assurances of comfort to the men at times; but when the weeds became thick enough to partially impede the progress of the vessels, they became terrified, lest the fabled fate of St. Amaro in the frozen seas, whose vessel could neither move forward nor backward, might be theirs. “Wherefore they steered away from those shoals of weeds as much as they could.”

On the 23rd a brisk WNW. gale, favourable for their course, arose, and on the same day a turtle-dove, a land fowl, and other birds, were seen. The more these tokens were observed, and found not to be followed by the anxiously-looked-for land, the more the crews rebelled; cabals were formed, of which the admiral was only partially aware. “They represented that they had already sufficiently performed their duty in adventuring further from land and all possibility of succour than had ever been done before, and that they ought not to proceed on the voyage to their manifest destruction.” They growlingly remarked that Columbus was a foreigner, who desired to become a great lord at their expense, that he had no favour at court, and that the most learned men had scorned his ideas as visionary and absurd. Some even went so far as to propose cutting the Gordian knot by throwing him overboard. Poor Columbus! He had enough to do, sometimes expostulating and sometimes threatening, and always in danger of a mutiny upsetting all his grand projects. Nor were matters improved on September 25th, when Pinzon, whose vessel was near, shouted out to the admiral, “Land! land, sir! let not my good news miscarry!” Next morning the supposed land resolved itself into sea-clouds.

During the following days the men caught some fish “with gilt backs” with the aid of a line, and numerous birds were observed. Still Columbus persisted in a westerly course, although many on board, thinking that the birds were flying from one unseen island to another, wished him to deviate. About sunrise on Sunday, October 7th, some signs of land appeared to the westward, “but being imperfect, no person would mention the circumstance. This was owing to fear of losing the reward of thirty crowns yearly for life which had been promised by their Catholic majesties to whoever should first discover land; and to prevent them calling out ‘land! land!’ at every turn without just cause, it was made a condition that whoever said he saw land should lose the reward if it were not made out in three days, even if he should afterwards actually prove the first discoverer.” Those on the Nina, however, forgot this provision, and fancying they saw land, fired a gun and hoisted their colours. This time also they were disappointed, but derived some comfort by observing great flights of large fowl and other birds going from the west towards the south-west.

It would have been impossible for the admiral to have much longer withstood the spirit of mutiny which was fast gaining ground, “but,” says the narrative of Ferdinand, “it pleased God that, in the afternoon of Thursday the 11th of October, such manifest tokens of being near the land appeared that the men took courage and rejoiced at [pg 288]their good fortune as much as they had been before distressed.” From the St. Mary a rush was seen to float past, and one of those green fish which are never found far from rocks. Some of the other men noted in the water a branch of a thorn, with red berries, a curiously-carved stick, and other plain indications of being close to land. After the evening prayer, Columbus made a speech to the men, in which “he reminded them of the mercy of God in having brought them so long a voyage with such favourable weather, and in comforting them with so many tokens of a successful issue to their enterprise.” As the admiral was in his cabin that night about ten o’clock he believed that he saw a light on shore; he called two of the men, one only of whom could perceive it. It was again seen by the admiral and the sailor, but only for a very brief space of time. “Being now very much on their guard,” says the narrative, “they still held on their course until about two in the morning of Friday the 12th of October, when the Pinta, which was always far ahead, owing to her superior sailing, made the signal of seeing land, which was first discovered by Roderick de Triana at about two leagues from the ship. But the thirty crowns a year were afterwards granted to the admiral, who had seen the light in the midst of darkness, a type of the spiritual light he was the happy means of spreading in these dark regions of error. Being now so near land, all the ships lay to; every one thinking it long till daylight, that they might enjoy the sight they had so long and anxiously desired.”[47]

COLUMBUS’S FIRST SIGHT OF LAND.

When daylight arrived, the newly-discovered land was perceived to consist of a flat island, without hills, but well timbered. It was evidently well populated, for the beach was covered with people, who showed every sign of wonder at the sight of the ships, which, says Ferdinand, “they conceived to be some unknown animals.” The admiral and his commanders, each in their own boat, with their colours flying, went ashore, where, on arrival, they fell on their knees, and thanked God for his merciful kindness and for their happy discovery of the new land. Columbus then took formal possession of the island in the name of their Catholic majesties.

And now, these ceremonies concluded, the admiral went off to his fleet, the natives following in canoes, and many indeed swimming off to the vessels. Columbus named the island San Salvador, the title it still bears. As he supposed himself to have landed on an island at the extremity of India, he applied the term Indians to the aborigines he met, and the same has in consequence become general to all the original inhabitants of the New World. The islanders met by Columbus were friendly and gentle, and usually quite nude. They were painted; this they might regard in the light of costume, some, indeed, being coloured from head to foot. They had little or no knowledge of metal [pg 289]weapons, for when shown a naked sword they ignorantly grasped the whole blade, and were severely cut. Their javelins were wood, armed with a piece of fish-bone. Their [pg 290]canoes ranged in size from such as were only capable of holding one person to those built for forty or more men, and were always hollowed in one piece, as among the northern Indians of British Columbia to-day, where canoes are to be seen which will carry fifty to sixty persons and two or three masts with sails. They had very little to offer in exchange for the toys and trinkets which had been provided for use on the expedition, but the avarice of the discoverers was soon excited by the sight of small ornaments of gold among them, with which they parted as readily as with anything else. Gold, in enterprises of discovery, being a royal monopoly, Columbus forbade any traffic in it, except by express permission. Parrots were a prime article of exchange among them, and cotton yarn. If they saw any trifle on board that struck their fancy they were as likely to jump into the sea with it as to offer anything for it, and, on the other hand, the Spaniards, after the manner of explorers, did not hesitate to accept their valuables in exchange for the merest trifles. The Indians would give twenty-five or so pounds of cotton for three Portuguese brass coins not worth a farthing. Enough; the story of their dealings is that of all times. It is scarcely more than twelve years since the writer saw the same kind of thing going on in Northern Alaska among unsophisticated natives. And, after all, “value” is a somewhat indefinite term. The luxuries of some climes are the drugs of others. The poor people met by Columbus highly valued a piece of broken glass or earthenware, because unknown to them, and because the possession of a fragment bestowed a proud distinction. Cannot we see the same kind of thing among the most civilised? The rare and scarce must of necessity be always the most valuable.

Columbus, continuing his voyage, discovered several minor islands. Everywhere he inquired for gold, and everywhere he was informed that it came from the south. He began to hear of an island in that direction named Cuba, which, from the mistaken ideas of geography current at the time, he took for Marco Polo’s famed gold island of Cipango. He determined to proceed there, and eventually seek the mainland of India, which must be within a few days’ sail, and then he would deliver the letters of their Castilian Majesties to the Great Khan, and return triumphantly to Spain. Filled with this magnificent scheme, he set sail. We need not say that he reached neither Cipango, India, nor the Khan; but he did discover Cuba, that beautiful island of the Caribbean Sea long dear to the heart of every consumer of the fragrant weed. Every smoker of a good havana should think of Columbus with deepest gratitude. The Spaniards were struck with astonishment at seeing the natives roll up certain dried herbs, light up one end, and putting the other in their mouth, exhale smoke. Cigars as fresh as these are often smoked in Cuba to this day. Columbus extols the beauty of the verdure and scenery of the island, and states, as a proof of the gigantic nature of some of their trees, that he saw a canoe formed from one trunk capable of carrying 150 people.

While Columbus, on leaving the eastern end of Cuba, was somewhat undetermined which course to take, he descried land to the south-east, gradually increasing to the view, and giving promise of an island of large extent. The Indians on beholding it called out “Bohio” with obvious signs of terror, and implored him not to go near it, as the inhabitants were one-eyed cannibals, fierce and cruel. He, however, sailed closer and closer, till the [pg 291]signs of cultivation and prosperous villages became frequent. At first the natives fled. Even when only three sailors rambled on shore, and encountered a large number, they could not be induced to parley. The sailors at length succeeded in capturing a young female, in a perfectly nude condition, having hanging from her nose only an ornament of gold. Columbus soon soothed her terror, had her clothed, and gave her presents of beads, brass rings, and other trinkets. She was sent on shore accompanied by three Indian interpreters and some of the crew. By this means, and after one of the interpreters had succeeded in overtaking some of the natives, and had assured them that the strangers had descended from the skies mainly for the purpose of making them presents, they were induced to meet the Spaniards, whom they treated with the greatest hospitality, setting before them fruit, fish, and cassava bread. The description of these people given by Columbus to old Peter Martyr represented them as holding a community of goods, “that ‘mine and thine,’ the seeds of all mischief, have no place with them.... They seem to live in the golden world, without toil, living in open gardens, not entrenched with dykes, divided with hedges, or defended with walls. They deal truly one with another, without laws, without books, and without judges. They take him for an evil and mischievous man who taketh pleasure in doing hurt to another.” This must have been Utopia indeed! Alas, as we shall see, the advent of so-called civilisation proved a veritable curse. Columbus named the island Espannola, or Little Spain (Anglicé, Hispaniola). The island is now known as Hayti, or San Domingo.

FACSIMILE OF AN ENGRAVING, REPUTED TO BE BY COLUMBUS, PUBLISHED IN 1493, REPRESENTING THE DISCOVERY OF THE ISLE OF SPAIN (ST. DOMINGO).

The people of Hispaniola appeared handsomer to Columbus than any he had yet met. He was at length visited by a young cacique or chief, and the interview was graphically described by Columbus himself in his oration before Ferdinand and Isabella and the court on his return to Spain.

Having put to sea on the morning of December 24th, at eleven in the evening, Columbus, being very fatigued, retired to his cabin. The sea was calm and the wind light at the time. No sooner had he left than the steersman gave the helm to a grummet,[48] and the result was that the current carried the vessel upon a treacherous sandbank. Scarcely had the shock occurred than Columbus and his crew were on deck, but in spite of aid from the other vessel, she speedily became a wreck, and had to be deserted. The admiral immediately sent ashore to the village of the cacique, at some little distance, and that chief with all his people with canoes assisted to unload the unfortunate vessel. “From time to time,” said Columbus, “he sent some of his people to me weeping, to beg me not to be dejected, as he would give me everything he possessed. I assure your highnesses that better order could not have been taken in any port in Castile to preserve our things, for we did not lose the value of a pin.” The Indians about this time brought in some few specimens of gold, worked and in the rough state, and the cacique perceiving that the admiral was much pleased at the sight, said he would order a quantity to be brought from a place called Cibao, where it was abundant. After offering him to eat, he presented him with gold ornaments and masks, in which latter the precious metal formed part of the features.

The chief complained greatly of a nation named the Caribs, who carried off and made [pg 292]slaves of his people, and Columbus, who was impressed with the beauty and productiveness of the island, readily promised to leave some of his people to protect him and form a colony. Cannons had not been very long familiar to Europeans, and we hardly wonder, therefore, that the natives “fell down as if dead” on hearing the reports of those fired by order of the admiral. Finding so much kindness among these people, and as the narrative of his son naïvely remarks, “such strong indications of gold,” he almost forgot his grief at the loss of his vessel. A fort or block-house was immediately erected, and leaving three officers and thirty-six men as garrison, he set sail for Spain.

RECEPTION OF COLUMBUS BY FERDINAND AND ISABELLA.

On February 4th (1493) the vessels were overtaken by a fearful storm. The whole company betook themselves to prayer, and cast lots which of them should go on pilgrimage for the whole crew to the shrine of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, which fell to Columbus. After other pilgrimages had been vowed, and the storm still increasing, “they all made a vow to go barefooted and in their shirts to some church of Our Lady at the first land they might come to.” The admiral, fearing the loss to the world of his discoveries, retired to his cabin to write two brief accounts of them. These were wrapped in wax and enclosed in casks, one of which was thrown into the sea, while the other was placed on the poop of his vessel, in case she should founder. Happily, the storm subsided, and they reached the island of St. Mary, where they were detained by some formalities of the naval etiquette of the day. Leaving St. Mary’s, they encountered a second gale of terrific force, during the continuance of which more vows were made, and the lot again fell to Columbus, “showing,” says his son, “that his offerings were more acceptable than others.” They were driven off the rock of Cintra, and perforce had to anchor in the Tagus. When it was known at Lisbon that the ship was freighted with the people and productions of a new world the excitement was intense, and from morn to night the vessel was thronged with visitors. In an interview with the king, Columbus recited his adventures and discoveries. King John listened with the deepest interest, and for the moment concealed his mortification. Columbus himself was loaded with attentions and allowed to depart for [pg 293]Spain. Great was the agitation and excitement in the little town of Palos, when the well-known vessel of the admiral re-entered their harbour. Most of those who thronged to the shore had relatives or friends on board, and the previous winter had been one of the most severe and stormy within the recollection of the oldest mariners. They awaited the landing of Columbus and his crew, and then accompanied him to the principal church, where solemn thanksgivings were offered, and soon every bell in the village sent forth a joyous peal. His journey to Barcelona was one continued triumph. He was accompanied by several of the native islanders, arrayed in their simple barbaric costume, and decorated with rude collars, bracelets, and ornaments of gold. He exhibited in the principal towns quantities of gold dust, many quadrupeds, and gaily-coloured birds, then unknown in Europe, with numerous specimens of natural productions in the vegetable and mineral kingdoms. It was the middle of April when Columbus reached the Court at Barcelona. The nobility, courtiers, and city authorities, came to the gates to meet him, and escorted him to the royal presence. Ferdinand and Isabella, seated under a superb canopy of state, rose as he approached, and begged him to be seated—unprecedented marks of honour in that proud court. Columbus had triumphed; he had for the time silenced the sneers and cavils and specious arguments of courtiers and ecclesiastics. Prescott[49] has well described the interview. In reciting his adventures, “his manner was sedate and dignified, but warmed with the glow of natural enthusiasm. He enumerated the several islands which he had visited, expatiated on the temperate character of the climate, and the capacity of the soil for every variety of agricultural productions.... He dwelt more at large on the precious metals to be found in these islands.... Lastly, he pointed out the wide scope afforded to Christian zeal, in the illumination of a race of men, whose minds, far from being wedded to any system of idolatry, were prepared by their extreme simplicity for the reception of pure and uncorrupted doctrine. This last consideration touched Isabella’s heart most sensibly; and the whole audience, kindled with various emotions by the speaker’s eloquence, filled up the perspective with the gorgeous colouring of their own fancies, as ambition, or avarice, or devotional feeling, predominated in their bosoms. When Columbus ceased, the king and queen, together with all present, prostrated themselves on their knees in grateful thanksgivings, while the solemn strains of the Te Deum were poured forth by the choir of the royal chapel, as in commemoration of some glorious victory.” All kinds [pg 294]of attentions were showered upon him: he was permitted to quarter the royal arms with his own, which consisted of a group of golden islands amid azure billows; and received the substantial gratuity of 1,000 doblas of gold from the royal treasury, besides the premium promised to the person who first descried land. But that which pleased Columbus most were the preparations of the court for further discoveries, on a scale befitting their importance. The complement of the new fleet was originally fixed at 1,200 persons, but was eventually swollen to 1,500, and many who joined were persons of rank and distinction among the royal household. The squadron counted no less than seventeen vessels.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Decisive Voyages in History.—Columbus. Vasco da Gama.

Columbus and his Enemies—Unsuitable Settlers—Outrageous Conduct of the Colonists—The Second Expedition of Columbus—Discovery of Jamaica—Dangerous Illness of Columbus—Return to Spain—The Excitement over—Difficulty of starting a New Expedition—Third Voyage—Columbus reaches the Mainland of America—Insurrection in Hispaniola—Machinations at Home—Columbus brought to Spain in Chains—Indignation in Spain—His Fourth Voyage—Ferdinand’s Ingratitude—Death of the Great Navigator—Estimate of his Character—Vasco da Gama—First Voyage—The Cape reached—First Sight of India—At Calicut—Friendship of the King of Cananore—Great Profits of the Expedition—Second Voyage—Vengeance on the Ruler of Calicut—His Brutality—Subsequent History of Da Gama.

The first accounts transmitted to Spain from this grand expedition were of the most sanguine description. But in less than two years from the commencement of this second voyage very different stories reached the home country. It was true that on the voyage Columbus had made further discoveries of a grand nature—the islands of Jamaica, Guadaloupe, and the Caribbee Islands. But rumours, and more than rumours, had reached the Court of the most alarming discontent and disaffection in the colony of Hispaniola, while the actual returns of a practical and commercial nature were as yet exceedingly small. The real secret was, however, that mutiny, jealousy, and distrust of Columbus as a foreigner, had sprung up among the Spanish adventurers, most, or at least many, of whom were little fitted for rough life in a new country. They were like the miscellaneous crowds who in our own day have gravitated towards the gold and diamond fields, a large number of whom expect to make gigantic fortunes without special effort, and in a very short space of time. The hidalgoes and cavaliers, of whom there was a too large proportion on the expedition, could not bend themselves to obey Columbus, whom they deemed an upstart. Prescott, who has collated more carefully than any other writer the many authorities on the subject, shows that the Spaniards indulged in the most wanton licence in regard to the unoffending natives, who in the simplicity of their hearts had received the white men as messengers from heaven. A general resistance had, however, soon followed, which led to a war of extermination. In less than four years after the Spaniards had set foot on San Domingo, one-third of its native population, amounting, according to [pg 295]several authorities, to many hundred thousands, were sacrificed by war, famine, and disease. These figures are undoubtedly exaggerations, but the number was very large. It is due to Columbus, always a just and humane man, to state that he did all in his power to prevent this sad state of affairs, and was forced by his own people to war on the Indians; and equally due to Isabella at home, to record that she was in no way a party to it, but expressed the utmost horror.[50] These excesses, and a total neglect of agriculture—for none would condescend to dig unless for gold—nearly brought about a famine, and Columbus had to put them on very short rations, and compel all to work, whether high or low bred. These regulations led to further mutiny and discontent.

ANCIENT GOLD-WASHING AT ST. DOMINGO. (After an Old Engraving.)

On the return of Columbus to Spain, he brought home, as before, some gold and other samples of Nature’s productions in the islands. But other voyagers returned, who loudly abused the new colony, and whose often wan and sallow features provoked the satirical remarks of the people, that they had come back with more gold in their features than in their pockets! In short, the novelty of the excitement had passed, and like many really valuable colonies of our own day which have been at first over-lauded and over-estimated, Hispaniola fell utterly in public estimation. The Spanish sovereigns, more especially Isabella, appear to have lent an unwilling ear to the accusations of mal-administration by Columbus. Meantime the treasury was drained by the expenses of an Italian war, and large expenses had been incurred for the actual maintenance of the colony. But Isabella, who really believed in Columbus, whose serious and yet enthusiastic character resembled her own, at length found some means for a new expedition, by sacrificing funds intended for another purpose. But now it was found as difficult to induce men to join the new expedition as it had been easy in the previous one. Even convicts were employed as sailors, and this proved a ruinous expedient. All being at length ready, Columbus once again embarked on May 30th, 1498, his little squadron consisting of six vessels. On this voyage he discovered Trinidad, the mouth of the Orinoco—which river he imagined to proceed from the tree of life in the midst of Paradise—and the coasts of Paria, South America. This was really, then his first visit to the mainland of America. On August 14th he sailed for Hispaniola once more, where he found that an insurrection had been raised against his brother, Bartolomeo, whom he had left as his deputy. At this juncture all the real interests of the colony were neglected, and even the gold-mines, which were beginning to prove remunerative, were unwrought. The convicts on the vessels helped to swell the mass of general mutiny, and it took Columbus nearly a year before it was in part quelled. Meantime discontented and worthless men kept returning to Spain, where, encouraged by idle courtiers, they worried the king daily with accounts of the unproductiveness of the colony. They even surrounded him, as he rode out on horseback, clamouring loudly for the arrears of which they said Columbus had defrauded them.

It is very difficult to exactly understand the course pursued at this juncture by the [pg 296]king. The popular view, as adopted by most writers, is that he regarded Columbus as having served his day: the ladder had fulfilled its use, and might now be kicked down. It is, perhaps, more reasonable to believe that Ferdinand hardly knew how to act, with his queen still firmly believing in the great discoverer, and so much pressure in other directions being brought to bear from the court and outside. It was determined to send out a commissioner to investigate the affairs of the colony, and the person chosen seems to have been a most unfit agent. He was one Francisco de Bobadilla, a poor knight of Calatrava, who, puffed up with arrogance at his sudden elevation, seems from the first to have regarded Columbus in the light of a convicted criminal. On his arrival in San Domingo he immediately commanded the admiral to appear before him, and without even pretence of legal inquiry, put him in chains, and thrust him into prison. His two brothers, Bartolomeo and Diego, suffered the same indignities. Bobadilla gave orders that he should be kept strictly in irons during the passage; “afraid,” says his son Ferdinand, satirically, “that he might by any chance swim back again to the island.” It is recorded that the officers who had him in charge would have removed them, but Columbus proudly and bitterly told them, “I will wear them till the king orders otherwise, and will preserve them as memorials of his gratitude.” On arrival at Cadiz, it is not to be wondered that the popular indignation burst forth like a torrent, and was re-echoed through Spain; all seemed to feel it as a national dishonour that such indignities should be heaped on the greatest discoverer of his day. Ferdinand understood the weight of obloquy which, rightly or wrongly, would rest upon him, and sent to Cadiz immediately to release him. The king disclaimed all share in the shameful act; while the queen, who was at least honest in the matter, shed tears when the old man came into her presence, and endeavoured to cheer his wounded spirit. But Ferdinand had no intention of reinstating him in his former power, and Columbus wasted nine months in vain solicitations for redress. At the end of this time, another governor of Hispaniola was appointed in his place. During this time Columbus was reduced to poverty, and we have his own statement to the effect that “he had no place to repair to except an inn, and very frequently had not wherewithal to pay his reckoning.”

COLUMBUS UNDER ARREST.

Later he was indeed employed on a fourth voyage, but with greatly curtailed powers. He imagined that there might be a passage through the Isthmus of Darien, which would shorten the passage to the East Indies. It need not be stated that he did not find it, although a ship canal through that neck of land has been and is now being mooted, and may some day become an accomplished fact. He, however, discovered parts of the coasts of Honduras, the Mosquito coast, and Costa Rica. Again we find him making his way to Hispaniola, on this occasion with only two over-crowded vessels, almost wrecks in fact, out of the four with which he had sailed from Cadiz. Here he exhausted his funds in procuring necessaries and comforts for his men, even for those who had on the voyage been the ringleaders of vexatious and outrageous mutinies. At length he returned to Spain, where he learned of the death of Queen Isabella, his warm patron. Wearied with illness and disappointment, it was some months before he could proceed on his journey to the court, then at Segovia. Columbus at this period of his life—he was not far from seventy years of age—suffered severely from gout. When he did meet Ferdinand, that monarch gave him fair words, [pg 297]but those alone. Prescott has probably indicated the secret, although he admits that “it was the grossest injustice to withhold from him the revenues secured by the original contract with the crown.” Poor Columbus was obliged to borrow money at this time for necessary expenses. The truth was that the king, as the resources of the new countries began to develop themselves, saw that he had promised a larger proportion of the profits than he ever would have done to a subject and a foreigner could he have foreseen the importance of the discoveries. He was so unjust as to at last propose a compromise—that the admiral should relinquish his claims, in consideration of other estates and dignities to be assigned him in Castile. He regarded him in the unwelcome light of a creditor, whose claims were too just to be disavowed, and too large to be satisfied. It is very doubtful whether Columbus received any assistance from the crown at this time, and wearied in spirit, with health broken by a life of great hardship, he did not long survive. He expired on May 20th, 1506, and his remains, first deposited at Valladolid, were, six years later, removed to Seville, where a costly monument was raised over them by King Ferdinand, with the following inscription:—

“A Castilla y á Leon

Nuevo mundo dió Colon”;

“Columbus has given a new world to Castile and Leon”—a very limited estimate of what [pg 298]he had done. From Seville his remains were taken, in 1536, to San Domingo; and at length, on the cession of that island to the French in 1795, were removed to Cuba, where they were finally allowed to repose in peace in the cathedral church of Havana.

While the Spaniards were prosecuting enterprises of great importance in and about the New World, the Portuguese were well employed in pushing their way towards the Orient by a sea route. The aims of both were practically the same. Each wished to find a shorter route to that fabled Cathay, the land of gold, and pearls, and spice, and silk. The celebrated voyages of Vasco da Gama deserve a full share of notice.

VASCO DA GAMA.

The first expedition of Da Gama consisted of three moderate-sized vessels. On the Sunday selected for offering prayers for the success of the expedition, Dom John, with his nobles and court, assembled in the beautiful cathedral, which is still so great an ornament to the banks of the Tagus, and at the conclusion of mass the king stood before the curtain where Vasco and Paulo da Gama placed themselves with the captains of their expedition, on bended knees, and devoutly prayed that they might have strength of mind and body to carry out the wishes of the king to increase the power and greatness of his dominion, and be the means of spreading the Christian religion. With these excellent professions, and amid very general demonstrations of popular interest, Da Gama set sail on July 5th, 1497. Proceeding for the Cape of Good Hope, Da Gama ventured boldly from the gulf of Guinea, and made a direct course to the Cape, and sailed for three months—August, September, and October—without sighting land. At last, on November 4th, they got sight of land in the forenoon, and were so rejoiced, that the ships were decorated with flags, and the captains and crews put on their best array, no doubt anxious to come to anchor somewhere, and land. It was some days, however, before they could do so, at a point believed to have been near the present St. Elena Bay. Da Gama with the other captains went ashore to endeavour to learn from the natives the distance to the Cape of Good Hope.

Leaving St. Elena they encountered heavy gales, during which Da Gama proved the possession of great courage and resolution. The waves ran mountains high, and the little vessels seemed in peril of being engulfed every minute. The wind was piercingly cold, and so boisterous that the commands of the pilot could seldom be heard amid the din of the elements. The sailors exhausted by fatigue and abandoned to despair, surrounded Da Gama, entreating him not to devote himself and them to inevitable destruction. But he resolved to proceed; and, at length, on Wednesday, the 20th November, all the squadron safely passed round the Cape, and on the 25th had sighted land beyond the furthest point reached by Diaz.

At Mozambique, Vasco da Gama sent a Moor ashore with presents to the Sheikh, who tried to act treacherously towards him, by stealing his merchandise. Nor did he fare much better at Quiloa, where the king endeavoured, by means of false pilots, to run Da Gama’s ships on the shoals at the entrance of the port. But at Melinde they were received with full honours, and large supplies of provisions were sent on board. The king visited the ships, and was received with royal hospitality. The expedition sailed on August 6th, the long delay being caused by the monsoons. After a passage of about twenty days they first sighted the high land of India off the coast of Cananore. The news of the arrival spread with great rapidity, and the natives were alarmed, for had they not the legend “that the whole of India would be taken and ruled over by a distant king, who had white people, who [pg 299]would do great harm to those who were not their friends?” The soothsayers, however, told them that the time had not yet come for the fulfilment of this prophecy.

On the arrival of the expedition at Calicut[51] the Portuguese were well received, for the king had discovered that the strangers had plenty of merchandise with them. He immediately sent them presents, “of many pigs, fowls, and cocoa-nuts fresh and dry,” and professed to a desire to enter into friendly relations with the king of so great a people. When Da Gama landed, he took with him twelve men of “good appearance,” and a large number of presents and a display of cloths, crimson velvet and yellow satin, gilt and chased basins, and ewers, knives of Flanders with ivory handles and glittering blades, and so forth. But the Moorish traders, fearing to lose their business, interfered, and the king eventually turned round upon Gama, and endeavoured to capture his ships. Finding it unsafe to remain, the half-laden vessels left Calicut, Da Gama threatening revenge. In the King of Cananore they found a monarch well-disposed to trade, and the Portuguese ships sailed thence very richly laden for the homeward voyage.

Their arrival at Lisbon after two years and eight months’ absence was a time of great rejoicing. The direct results of the expedition, pecuniarily, were immense. In spite of the cost of the expedition and presents made, the profit was “fully sixty-fold.” Rewards were bestowed on all who had taken part in the expedition, and Da Gama himself received the title of “Dom” with many grants and privileges. He was also created high admiral of Spain.

The second expedition of Dom Gama had avowedly for its object the punishment of the King of Calicut. Ten large ships, fitted with heavy guns and all the munitions of war then known, with five lateen-rigged caravels, formed the fleet. Arrived at Cananore, he related to the friendly king the manner in which he intended to be revenged on the King of Calicut. The former “swore upon his head, and his eyes, and by his mother’s womb that had borne him, and by the prince, his heir,” that he would assist Da Gama to his utmost, and they soon matured a system of trade. Gama then sailed for Calicut, which he found deserted of its shipping, the news of his previous doings having reached that port.

The King made one effort at conciliation by sending on board one of the chief Brahmins of the place with a flag of truce, but Da Gama rejected every overture, ordered the Indian boat back, and kept the ambassador on board, while he bombarded the city. While this was going on there came in from the offing two large ships and twenty-two sambachs and Malabar vessels, which he plundered, with the exception of six of the smaller vessels that belonged to Cananore, and barbarously put to death a large number of the captives. The King of Calicut, surrounded with the wives and relations of those who had been so shamefully massacred, bewailing in the most heart-rending manner their loss, and beseeching protection, called a council, and it was resolved to construct armed proas, large rowing barges and sambachs, and as many vessels of [pg 300]war as could be mustered. Long before they were ready, Dom Gama had sailed with his fleet for Cochym (Cochin China) having on his way wreaked vengeance on as many of the Calicut vessels as crossed his path. The king of Cochym had resolved from the first to be friendly with the Portuguese, and Gama soon established an important factory, from which the power of Portugal spread over India. In 1503 he returned to his own country, to be welcomed with fresh honours and titles, but was not immediately reappointed to command in India. In 1524, however, he was appointed viceroy of Portuguese India, and a year later died in Cochin China. Thus ended the life of one of the most courageous adventurers the world has seen, but a life stained by crimes of the most brutal nature.

VIEW OF CALICUT IN THE 15TH CENTURY.

CHAPTER XXXV.

The Companions and Followers of Columbus.

The Era of Spanish Discovery—Reasons for its Rapid Development—Ojeda’s First Voyage—Fighting the Caribs—Indians and Cannon—Pinzon’s Discovery of Brazil—A Rough Reception—Bastides the Humane—A New Calamity—Ships leaking like Sieves—Economical Generosity of King Ferdinand—Ojeda’s Second Voyage—The disputed Strong-Box—Ojeda Entrapped—Swimming in Irons—Condemned Abroad—Acquitted at Home—A Triumphant Client, but a Ruined Man—A Third Voyage—Worthy La Cosa—Rival Commanders—A Foolish Challenge.

In the following pages the enterprises of certain Spanish and Portuguese voyagers less known to fame than those recently under notice, but still great names in the history of maritime discovery, will be recorded. Not merely had the examples of such men as Columbus and Vasco da Gama stirred up a spirit of adventure unparalleled before or perhaps since, but, as Washington Irving shows us,[52] the conquest of Granada and the end of the Peninsular war with the Moorish usurpers, had deprived the Spanish of a sphere of action which had [pg 301]occupied them almost incessantly during the eight centuries preceding. The youth of the nation, bred up to daring adventure and heroic achievement, could not brook the tranquil and regular pursuits of common life, but panted for some new field of romantic enterprise. The treaty of Columbus with Ferdinand and Isabella was, in a sense, signed with the same pen that had subscribed to the capitulation of the Moorish capital; while not a few of the cavaliers who had fought in that memorable war now crowded the ships of the discoverers, firmly believing that a grand new field of arms had opened to them.

Alonzo de Ojeda, a native of New Castile, was one of this numerous class. He had fought against the Moors when a youth, and had accompanied Columbus on his second voyage when only twenty-one years of age. One of his relatives, a Dominican friar, was one of the first inquisitors of Spain, and was an intimate of the Bishop Fonseca, who had the chief management of the affairs of the Indies, which then included all the countries as yet known in the New World. Ojeda, therefore, was naturally and easily introduced to the Bishop’s notice, who took him under his special protection. When he had accompanied Columbus he had taken with him a small Flemish painting of the Holy Virgin, presented to him by Fonseca, and this he had always carried with him as a protecting charm, invoking it at all times of peril; while to its possession he attributed his hitherto wonderful immunity from harm. When Columbus returned from his third voyage, with the news of rich discoveries, especially of the pearl-fisheries of Paria, Ojeda had no difficulty in obtaining from the Bishop, who was one of the worst enemies of poor Columbus, a commission authorising him to fit out an armament and proceed on a voyage of discovery. It does not appear that the sanction of the King and Queen was asked on this occasion. The means were readily supplied by merchants of Seville. Among his associates were several men who had just returned with Columbus, principal among whom was a bold Biscayan, Juan de la Cosa by name. Amerigo Vespucci, the man from whose first name the title of America is derived, a broken-down Florentine merchant, accompanied the expedition. It does not appear that he had any interest in the voyage, or even position on board ship. Ojeda sailed from Spain on the 20th May, 1499.

After touching at the Canaries, he made, for those days, a rapid voyage to America. In twenty-four days from leaving the islands he reached the New World, at a part of the coast considerably south of that discovered by Columbus, and after a little passed the mouths of several large rivers, including those of the Orinoco and Esquivo, rivers which freshen the [pg 302]sea-water for many miles outside. They afterwards touched at the island of Trinidad, of the inhabitants of which Vespucci gives a number of details. He tells us that they believed in no religious creed, and therefore neither prayed nor offered sacrifice. Their habitations were practically caravanserai, built in the shape of bells (meaning, doubtless, with bell-shaped roofs), each holding from six hundred to over a thousand inhabitants. He adds that every seven or eight years the inhabitants were obliged to change their residences, from the maladies engendered by such close packing. They ornamented themselves with beads and ornaments made from the bones of fishes, with white and green stones strung together as necklaces, and with the feathers of tropical birds. They buried their dead in caverns or sepulchres, always leaving a jar of water and something to eat by the head of the corpse, as do some tribes to-day.

At Maracapana, on the mainland, the natives were friendly, and brought quantities of fish, venison, and cassava bread. They anxiously besought the Spaniards to aid them in punishing their enemies, the cannibals of a distant isle, and Ojeda seems to have rather liked the proposition. Taking seven of the natives on board his vessels to act as guides, he set sail in quest of these cannibal islands, which are believed to have been the Caribbees. After seven days he ran his vessels in near the shore of one which the guides indicated to be the habitation of their cruel foes, and a number of painted and befeathered warriors were seen on the shore, well armed with bows and arrows, darts, lances, and bucklers. “This show of war,” says Irving, “was calculated to rouse the martial spirit of Ojeda. He brought his ships to anchor, ordered out his boats, and provided each with a paterero or small cannon. Besides the oarsmen, each boat contained a number of soldiers, who were told to crouch out of sight in the bottom. The boats then pulled in steadily for the shore. As they approached, the Indians let fly a cloud of arrows, but without much effect. Seeing the boats continue to advance, the savages threw themselves into the sea, and brandished their lances to prevent their landing. Upon this the soldiers sprang up in the boats and discharged the patereroes. At the sound and smoke of these unknown weapons the savages abandoned the water in affright, while Ojeda and his men leaped on shore and pursued them. The Carib warriors rallied on the banks, and fought for a long time with that courage peculiar to their race, but were at length driven to the woods at the edge of the sword, leaving many killed and wounded on the field of battle.” Next day a larger number of the savages gathered on the beach, but, after a desperate fight, were routed, their houses burned, and many taken prisoners, which was probably Ojeda’s principal object in attacking them. Many similar experiences followed, but in all cases, as might be expected, the Spaniards came out conquerors, scarcely any of their men being even seriously wounded. At one place over a thousand Indians came off in canoes or swam from shore, so that in a little while the vessel’s decks were crowded. While they were gazing in wonder at all they saw on board, Ojeda ordered the cannon to be discharged, at the unaccustomed sound of which they “plunged into the water like so many frogs from a bank.”

Ojeda returned to Cadiz in June, 1500, his ships packed with slaves. But the commercial results of the voyage, after allowing for expenses, were so small that only about 500 ducats remained to be divided between fifty-five adventurers. Nino, another adventurer, who had once served as pilot with Columbus, made a voyage at the same period in a bark [pg 303]of only fifty tons, returning two months before Ojeda, with a large number of the finest pearls and some gold. The amount of pearls paid into the royal treasury was so large that it drew suspicion instead of favour upon Nino and one of his associates, and the first was actually thrown into prison on the accusation of having kept the larger part of the spoil. But nothing could be proved against him, and he was eventually set free.

The year 1499 was also marked by a most important discovery, that of the great kingdom of Brazil. It was reserved for Vicente Yanez Pinzon, in an otherwise disastrous voyage, to first cross the equinoctial line, and on the 28th of January, 1500, to sight the Cape, now known as that of St. Augustine, which he, however, first named Santa Maria de la Consolacion, because its appearance relieved him from much doubt and anxiety. Soon after he had taken formal possession of the territory in the name of Spain, an affray with the Indians occurred. In a general assault the latter killed eight or ten Spaniards, and the crews retreated to their boats, disputing every inch of ground. The Indians pursued them into the water, surrounded the boats, and seized the oars. In spite of a desperate defence they succeeded in overpowering the crew of one of the boats, and carried it off. “With this,” says Irving, “they retired from the combat, and the Spaniards returned defeated and disheartened to their ships, having met with the roughest reception that the Europeans had yet experienced in the New World.” Pinzon revenged himself, not on these savages, but on a quiet and hospitable tribe found on some beautiful islands off the mouth of the great Amazon River. Thirty-six of the poor natives were carried off, to be sold afterwards as slaves.

Off the Bahamas Pinzon’s little squadron of four vessels encountered a terrific hurricane, and two of them went down with all hands in sight of the remaining two, the crews of which were powerless to help. The third was driven out to sea, and the fourth was so battered by the furious waves that her crew abandoned her in their boats. A few inoffensive Indians were found ashore, and fearing that they might spread the tidings that a mere handful of shipwrecked Spaniards were on the island, it was seriously proposed to put them to death, when fortunately the vessel which had been driven away returned, and it was later found that the other had ridden out the storm uninjured. They speedily made sail for Spain, and arrived at Palos in safety. Pinzon had as much as he could do to prevent the merchants who had supplied goods for the voyage—at an advance of a hundred per cent. or so—from seizing and selling the vessels and cargoes. But a royal edict prevented this, and he was able to satisfy them in the end, after incurring much loss to himself.

The Pinzon family were subsequently ennobled by the Emperor Charles V. When Washington Irving visited Palos he found numerous branches of the descendants enjoying excellent circumstances, and living in an almost patriarchal manner.

In the year 1500, Rodrigo de Bastides, a wealthy Sevillian notary, inflamed with the hopes of rapid wealth, fitted out two caravels, and associated with him the veteran pilot, Juan de la Cosa, already mentioned. The first honourably distinguished himself by his constant humanity to the natives, and the voyage was successful, commercially speaking, for on the South American coasts and islands they collected a very large amount of gold and pearls, but an unforeseen misfortune arrived. They found their vessels leaking most [pg 304]seriously, for their hulls had been pierced in innumerable places by marine worms. It was with difficulty that they could keep afloat until they reached an inlet on the coast of Hispaniola, where they plugged and patched up their ships, and again put to sea for Cadiz. Storm succeeded storm; the worms were again at work, and the leaks broke out afresh. They were obliged to return to the inlet, where they landed the most profitable and valuable parts of their cargoes, and the vessels foundered with the remainder. Distributing his men into three bands, they started for San Domingo by different routes, each party being provided with trinkets and Indian trading goods. Francisco de Bobadilla, the enemy and successor of Columbus, was then Governor of San Domingo. He believing, or pretending to believe, that the adventurers were carrying on an illicit trade with the natives, arrested Bastides and threw him into prison, afterwards sending him for trial to Spain. He sailed in the same fleet in which Bobadilla embarked for Spain, and which was for the most part wrecked. The ship of Bastides was one of the few to outlive the storm; it arrived at Cadiz in September, 1502. Bastides was, of course, acquitted of the charges brought against him, and the voyage had been so lucrative that, notwithstanding all losses, he was enabled to pay a handsome tribute to the crown and retain a large amount for himself. Ferdinand and Isabella granted Bastides and La Cosa an annual revenue for life, to be derived from the proceeds of the province of Uraba, which he had discovered. “Such,” says Irving, “was the economical generosity of King Ferdinand, who rewarded the past toils of his adventurous discoverers out of the expected produce of their future labours.” It is doubtful whether either at any time derived benefit from these grants.

Alonzo de Ojeda had gained nothing by his first voyage, but had earned an honourable reputation as an explorer. His patron the Bishop recommended him in 1502 once more to the royal favour, and a grant was made to him of a considerable tract of land in Hispaniola, and the government of the province of Coquebacao, which territory he had discovered. Four vessels were fitted out, and, to pass over minor details, reached a part of the South American coast called by the natives Cumana, where the idea struck Ojeda that he should want furniture and utensils for his new colony, “and that it would be better to pillage them from a country where he was a mere transient visitor, than to wrest them from his neighbours in the territory where he was to set up his government.” This scheme was carried into immediate execution, Ojeda ordering his men not to destroy the habitations of the Indians, nor to commit bloodshed. His followers, however, did not implicitly obey his instructions, and seven or eight natives were killed and many more wounded in the skirmish which took place. Many of their dwellings were fired. A large number of hammocks, quantities of cotton, and utensils of various kinds, fell into the victors’ hands, and they captured several females, some of whom were afterwards ransomed for gold, and others carried off. The place was found destitute of provisions, and Ojeda was forced to send one of his vessels to Jamaica for supplies.

Ojeda at length arrived at Coquibacao, landing at a bay supposed to be that now known as Bahia Honda, where he found a Spaniard who had been living among the natives some thirteen months, and had acquired their language. Ojeda determined to form his settlement there, but the natives seemed disposed to defend their country, for “the moment a party landed to procure water they were assailed by a galling shower of arrows, and driven [pg 306]back to the ships. Upon this Ojeda landed with all his force, and struck such terror into the Indians that they came forward with signs of amity, and brought a considerable quantity of gold as a peace-offering, which was graciously accepted.” The construction of the fortress was at once commenced, and although interrupted by the attack of a neighbouring cacique, who was, however, easily defeated, Ojeda’s men completed it speedily. It contained a magazine of provisions, dealt out twice a day, and was defended by cannon. The treasure gained in trade, or by robbery, was deposited in a strong box with double locks.

Meantime provisions were becoming scarce, while the vessel which had been despatched to Jamaica for supplies did not appear. “The people, worn-out with labours and privations of various kinds, and disgusted with the situation of the settlement, which was in a poor and unhealthy country, grew discontented and factious. They began to fear that they should lose the means of departing, as their vessels were in danger of being destroyed by the marine worms. Ojeda led them forth repeatedly upon foraging parties about the adjacent country, and collected some provisions and booty in the Indian villages. The provisions he deposited in the magazine, part of the spoil he divided among his followers, and the gold he locked up in the strong box, the keys of which he took possession of, to the great displeasure of the supervisor and his associate Ocampo. The murmurs of the people grew loud as their sufferings increased. They insinuated that Ojeda had no authority over this part of the coast, having passed the boundaries of his government, and formed his settlement in the country discovered by Bastides. By the time Vergara arrived from Jamaica the factions of this petty colony had risen to an alarming height. Ocampo had a personal enmity to the governor, arising probably from some feud about the strong box; and being a particular friend of Vergara, he held a private conference with him, and laid a plan to entrap the doughty Ojeda. In pursuance of this the latter was invited on board the caravel of Vergara, to see the provisions he had brought from Jamaica; but no sooner was he on board than they charged him with having transgressed the limits of his government, with having provoked the hostility of the Indians, and needlessly sacrificed the lives of his followers, and above all, with having taken possession of the strong box, in contempt of the authority of the royal supervisor, and with the intention of appropriating to himself all the gains of the enterprise. They informed him, therefore, of their intention to convey him a prisoner to Hispaniola, to answer to the governor for his offences.” Ojeda was entrapped, and scarcely knew what to do. He proposed to Vergara and Ocampo that they should return to Spain with such of the men as were tired of the enterprise, and they at first agreed with this, and promised to leave him the smallest of the vessels, and a third of the provisions and spoils. They even engaged to build him a row boat before leaving, and commenced the work; but the ship carpenters were invalids, and there were no caulkers, and the two conspirators soon changed their minds, and resolved to take him prisoner to Hispaniola. He was put in irons, and the vessels set sail, having on board the whole of the little community, as well as that strong box of gold and treasure, the disputed possession of which was at the bottom of most of this trouble.

OJEDA’S ATTEMPTED ESCAPE.

Arrived off the desired coast, Ojeda made a bold struggle for liberty. He was a strong man and a good swimmer, so one night he let himself down quietly into the sea, and made an attempt to reach the land. But, while his arms were free, his feet were shackled with [pg 307]heavy iron, sufficient in itself almost to sink him. He had not got far when he was obliged to shout for help, and the unfortunate governor was brought back half drowned to his unrelenting partners. They delivered him a prisoner into the hands of the authorities, but held fast to the strong box, taking from it, Ojeda afterwards stated, whatever they thought proper, without regard to the royal supervisor or the royal rights. Ojeda was tried in the city of San Domingo, where the chief judge gave a verdict against him, depriving him of all his effects, and brought him in debt to the crown. He afterwards appealed to the crown, and after some time was honourably acquitted by the Royal Council, and his property ordered to be restored. “Like too many other litigants,” says Irving, “he finally emerged from the labyrinths of the law a triumphant client, but a ruined man.” Costs had swallowed his all, and for years we know little of his life.

In 1508 he was in Hispaniola, “as poor in purse, though as proud in spirit, as ever.” About this period there was a great excitement in Spain concerning the gold mines of Veragua, first discovered by Columbus, and described in glowing terms by subsequent voyagers. King Ferdinand should in honour have given Bartholomew, the brother of Christopher Columbus, the command of any expedition sent out to that country, but he appears to have thought that the family had received reward enough, and more than enough, already, so the claims of Ojeda were advanced by his friend the Bishop Fonseca, and the king lent a favouring ear. There was, however, a rival candidate in the field, one Diego de Nicuesa, an accomplished courtier of noble birth and considerable means, and the king compromised matters by granting both equal “patents and dignities which cost nothing, and might bring rich returns.” He divided the territory they were to explore equally; and this is all, for they were to furnish their own ships and supplies. Poor Ojeda had no means whatever, but at this juncture he fortunately met the veteran Juan de la Cosa in Hispaniola, and that hardy old navigator had managed to fill his purse in the course of his cruising. La Cosa had, as we know, sailed with Ojeda long before, and had a great admiration of his courage and talents, so in the spirit of a true sailor he now offered assistance to his old comrade, and it was arranged that he should go to Spain, and if necessary should fit out the required vessels at his own expense.

Juan de la Cosa, soon after reaching Spain, was appointed lieutenant, under Ojeda, and he thereupon freighted a ship and two brigantines, in which he embarked with about two hundred men. “It was,” says Irving, “a slender armament, but the purse of the honest voyager was not very deep, and that of Ojeda was empty.” Nicuesa was able to start in much more gallant style, with four large vessels and two brigantines.

The rival armaments arrived at San Domingo at about the same time, Nicuesa having done a stroke of business on the way by capturing a hundred natives from one of the Caribbee Islands. “This was deemed justifiable in those days even by the most scrupulous divines, from the belief that the Caribs were anthropophagi, or man-eaters; fortunately the opinion of mankind in this more enlightened age makes but little difference in atrocity between the cannibal and the kidnapper.” It need hardly be said that Ojeda was overjoyed at the sight of his old comrade, although he was mortified to note the superiority of Nicuesa’s armament to his own. He, however, looking about him for the means of increasing his strength, was so far fortunate that he succeeded in inducing a lawyer, the Bachelor Martin Fernandez de Enciso, [pg 308]who had saved two thousand castillanos (somewhat over the same number of pounds sterling), to invest his money in the enterprise. Ojeda promised to make him Alcalde Mayor, or Chief Judge, and the prospect of such dignity dazzled the notary. It was arranged that the latter should remain in Hispaniola to beat up recruits and supplies, and with them he was to follow in a ship purchased by himself.

“Two rival governors,” says Irving, “so well matched as Ojeda and Nicuesa, and both possessed of swelling spirits, pent up in small but active bodies, could not remain long in a little place like San Domingo without some collision. The island of Jamaica, which had been assigned to them in common, furnished the first ground of contention; the province of Darien furnished another, each pretending to include it within the limits of his jurisdiction. Their disputes on these points ran so high that the whole place resounded with them.” Nicuesa was the better talker, having been brought up at court, while Ojeda was no great casuist. He was, however, an excellent swordsman, and always ready to fight his way through any question of right or dignity, and he challenged Nicuesa to single combat. Nicuesa was no coward, but as a man of the world, saw the folly of such a proceeding, so he slyly proposed that they should each deposit five thousand castillanos—just to make the fight interesting—and to constitute a prize for the winner. This rather checked poor Ojeda, who had not a dollar he could call his own; but his cool and discreet friend Cosa had a considerable amount of trouble with him afterwards, before he could bring him to reason. The character of Cosa, as we shall see hereafter, was a very noble one. He was Ojeda’s best counseller and truest friend.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

The Companions and Followers of Columbus (concluded).

Nicuesa and the Duns of San Domingo—Indian Contempt for a Royal Manifesto—La Cosa’s Advice Disregarded—Ojeda’s Impetuosity—A Desperate Fight—Seventy Spaniards Killed—La Cosa’s Untimely End—Ojeda found Exhausted in the Woods—A Rival’s Noble Conduct—Avenged on the Indians—A New Settlement—Ojeda’s Charm fails—A Desperate Remedy—In Search of Provisions—Wrecked on Cuba—A Toilsome March—Kindly Natives—Ojeda’s Vow Redeemed—Dies in Abject Poverty—The Bachelor Enciso and Balboa—Smuggled on Board in a Tub—Leon and his Search for the Fountain of Youth—Discovery of Florida—Magellan—Snubbed at Home—Warmly seconded by the Spanish Emperor—His resolute Character—Discovery of the Straits—His Death—The First Voyage round the World—Captain Cook’s Discoveries—His Tragical Death—Vancouver’s Island.

Nicuesa remained some time in San Domingo after the sailing of his rival’s fleet, obtaining so many volunteers that he had to purchase another ship to convey them. That commander was much more the courtier than the man of business, and expended his money so freely that in the end he found himself seriously involved. Some of his creditors, knowing that his expedition was not favourably regarded by the governor, Admiral Don Diego Columbus, threw every obstacle in the way of his departure, and never was an unfortunate debtor more harassed by duns, most of whom he managed, however, to satisfy or mollify. His forces, which now numbered seven hundred men, were safely embarked, but just as he was stepping into his boat he was arrested [pg 309]for a debt of five hundred ducats, and carried before the Alcalde Mayor. “This was a thunderstroke to the unfortunate cavalier. In vain he represented his utter incapacity to furnish such a sum at the moment; in vain he represented the ruin that would accrue to himself, and the vast injury to the public service, should he be prevented from joining his expedition. The Alcalde Mayor was inflexible, and Nicuesa was reduced to despair. At this critical moment relief came from a most unexpected quarter. The heart of a public notary was melted by his distress! He stepped forward in court, and declared that rather than see so gallant a gentleman reduced to extremity, he himself would pay down the money. Nicuesa gazed at him with astonishment, and could scarce believe his senses; but when he saw him actually pay off the debt, and found himself suddenly released from this dreadful embarrassment, he embraced his deliverer with tears of gratitude, and hastened with all speed to embark, lest some other legal spell should be laid upon his person.”

Ojeda set sail from San Domingo on the 10th of November, 1509, with three hundred men, among the adventurers being Francisco Pizarro, afterwards the renowned conqueror of Peru. They arrived speedily at Carthagena, which harbour Cosa advised Ojeda to abandon, and commence a settlement in the Gulf of Uraba, where the natives were much less ferocious, and did not use poisoned weapons, as did those of the former place. Ojeda, however, was too high-spirited to alter his plans on account of any number of naked [pg 310]savages, and he landed with a considerable force, and several friars, who had been sent out to convert the natives, were ordered to read aloud a manifesto, which had been specially written by eminent divines and jurists in Spain. It was utterly thrown away on the savages, who immediately made demonstrations of the most warlike kind.

Cosa once more begged Ojeda to leave these unfriendly shores, but in vain, and the latter, offering up a short prayer to the Virgin, led on a furious charge. Juan de Cosa followed in the bravest manner, although the assault was contrary to his advice. The Indians were soon driven off, and a number killed or taken prisoners, on whose persons plates of gold were found. Flushed by this easy victory, he pursued them into the interior, followed as usual by his faithful, though unwilling lieutenant. Having penetrated deep into the forest, they came to a stronghold of the enemy, where they were warmly received. Ojeda led his men on with the old Castilian war-cry, “Santiago!” and in a few minutes the Indians took to flight. “Eight of their bravest warriors threw themselves into a cabin, and plied their bows and arrows so vigorously that the Spaniards were kept at bay. Ojeda cried shame upon his followers to be daunted by eight naked men. Stung by this reproach, an old Castilian soldier rushed through a shower of arrows and forced the door of the cabin, but received a shaft through the heart and fell dead on the threshold. Ojeda, furious at the sight, ordered fire to be set to the combustible edifice; in a moment it was in a blaze, and the eight warriors perished in the flames.” Seventy prisoners were sent on board the ships. Ojeda, still against the strongly-expressed advice of Cosa, continued his pursuit, and he and his followers arrived at what appeared to be a deserted village. They had scattered in search of booty, when troops of savages, who had been concealed in the forest, surrounded them. The desperate valour and iron armour of the Spaniards availed little, for they were overwhelmed by numbers, and scattered into detached parties. Ojeda collected a few of his followers, and made a desperate resistance from the interior of a palisaded enclosure. “Here he was closely besieged and galled by flights of arrows. He threw himself on his knees, covered himself with his buckler, and being small and active, managed to protect himself from the deadly shower, but all his companions were slain by his side, some of them perishing in frightful agonies. At this fearful moment the veteran La Cosa, having heard of the peril of his commander, arrived with a few followers to his assistance. Stationing himself at the gate of the palisades, the brave Biscayan kept the savages at bay until most of his men were slain, and he himself was severely wounded. Just then Ojeda sprang forth like a tiger into the midst of the enemy, dealing his blows on every side. La Cosa would have seconded him, but was crippled by his wounds. He took refuge with the remnant of his men in an Indian cabin, the straw roof of which he aided them to throw off, lest the enemy should set it on fire. Here he defended himself until all his comrades but one were destroyed. The subtle poison of his wounds at length overpowered him, and he sank to the ground. Feeling death at hand, he called to his only surviving companion. ‘Brother,’ said he, ‘since God hath protected thee from harm, sally forth and fly, and if thou shouldst see Alonzo de Ojeda, tell him of my fate!’ ” Thus perished one of the ablest of the Spanish explorers, and one of the most loyal of friends, a true counsellor, and a warm-hearted partisan.

THE DEATH OF LA COSA.

Meanwhile there was great alarm on the ships at the non-arrival of the seventy men [pg 311]who had adventured into the forests on this mad expedition. Parties were sent ashore and round the coasts, where they fired signal guns and sounded trumpets, but in vain. At length some of them arrived at a great thicket of mangrove trees, amid the entanglements of which they caught a glimpse of a man in Spanish attire. Approaching, they found that it was their commander, buckler on shoulder and sword in hand, but so weak with hunger and fatigue that he could not utter a word. When he was a little revived by the fire they made on the shore, and the food and wine they gave him, he told the story of how he had escaped from the savage bands, how he had hidden every day, and struggled forward at night among rocks and thickets and matted forests till he reached the coast. As another proof of the special protection of the Virgin he showed them his buckler bearing the marks of 300 arrows, while he had received no wound whatever.

Just as this transpired, the fleet of Nicuesa arrived, and Ojeda was much troubled in mind, remembering his late rash challenge. He ordered his men to return to the ships, and leave him on the shore till his rival should depart. Some of the men went to Nicuesa and intreated him not to take advantage of Ojeda’s misfortunes. But there was no need for this, and Nicuesa blushed with indignation that they should think him a gentleman so unworthy the name. He told them to bring their commander to him, and when they met he received his late foe with every show of friendship. “It is not,” said he, “for hidalgoes, like men of vulgar souls, to remember past differences when they behold one another in distress. Henceforth, let all that has occurred between us be forgotten. Command me as a brother. Myself and my men are at your orders, to follow you wherever you please, until the deaths of Juan de la Cosa and his comrades are revenged.” This noble offer was not one of words only, and the two commanders became fast friends. Four hundred men, with several horses, were landed, and they approached the village, which had cost them seventy lives, in the dead of the night, their near approach being heralded by the numerous parrots in the woods, which made a great outcry. The Indians paid no attention, however, believing that the Spaniards had been exterminated, and they found their village in flames before they took the alarm. The Spaniards either killed them at their doors or drove them back into the flames. The horses, which they supposed to be savage monsters, caused great alarm. The carnage was something fearful, for no quarter was given. While ranging about in search of booty they found the body of La Cosa tied to a tree, swollen and discoloured in a hideous manner by the poison of the Indian arrows. “This dismal spectacle had such an effect upon the common men that not one would remain in that place during the night.” The spoil in gold and other valuables was so great that the share of Nicuesa and his men amounted to 37,281 dollars.

ARRIVAL OF OJEDA AND HIS FOLLOWERS AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

Ojeda now, somewhat late in the day, took the advice of his late faithful lieutenant, and steered for the Gulf of Uraba, where he formed a settlement which he named St. Sebastian. The Indians of the surrounding country proved unfriendly and hostile, and at length their provisions began to fail. “In one of their expeditions they were surprised by an ambuscade of savages in a gorge of the mountains, and attacked with such fury and effect that they were completely routed, and pursued with yells and howlings to the very gates of St. Sebastian. Many died in excruciating agony of their wounds, and others recovered with extreme difficulty. Those who were well no longer dared to venture forth [pg 312]in search of food, for the whole forest teemed with lurking foes. They devoured such herbs and roots as they could find without regard to their quality. Their bodies became corrupted, and various diseases, combined with the ravages of famine, daily thinned their numbers. The sentinel who feebly mounted guard at night was often found dead at his post in the morning. Some stretched themselves on the ground, and expired of mere famine and debility; nor was death any longer regarded as an evil, but rather as a welcome relief from a life of horror and despair.” Such is the chronicler’s mournful account.

We have seen that Ojeda felt unbounded confidence in his charm—the picture of the Holy Virgin—and he had so long escaped unscathed that the Indians also believed him to bear a charmed life. They determined one day to test the question, and placed four of their most expert archers in ambush, with directions to single him out, while a number more advanced to the fort sounding their conches and drums, and yelling with hideous noises. Ojeda sallied forth to meet them, and the Indians fled to the ambuscade. The archers waited till he was full in front, and then discharged their poisoned arrows. Three he warded off by his buckler, but the fourth pierced his thigh. Ojeda was carried back to the fort, more despondent than he had ever yet been, for his talisman seemed to have failed him, and thrilling pains shot through his body. But he was not to be thus defeated. He caused two plates of iron to be made [pg 313]red hot, and ordered a surgeon to apply them to each orifice of his wound. The surgeon, fearful that should he die the death would be laid to his door, shudderingly refused, whereupon Ojeda threatened to hang him if he did not obey, and he was obliged to comply. Ojeda refused to be held or tied down, and endured the agony without moving a muscle. This violent remedy so inflamed his system that he had to be wrapped in sheets steeped in vinegar to allay the fever, and it is said that a barrel of vinegar was consumed in this way. But he lived, and his wounds healed; “the cold poison,” says Las Casas, “was consumed by the vivid fire.”

At this time their provisions were again becoming scarce, and the arrival of a strange ship, commanded by one Bernardino de Talavera, a desperate pirate, was welcomed, as it brought some relief, although supplies were only furnished for large prices in gold. Some dissatisfaction was expressed at the division of the food, and shortly afterwards serious factions arose. At last Ojeda volunteered to go himself to San Domingo in quest of necessary supplies, to which his followers agreed, and he embarked on board Talavera’s ship. They had scarcely put to sea when a serious quarrel arose between the freebooter and Ojeda; the latter, apparently, having acted on board as though he were commander instead of passenger. He was actually put in irons, where “he reviled Talavera and his gang as recreants, traitors, pirates, and offered to fight the whole of them successively, provided they would give him a clear deck and come on two at a time.” They left him fuming and raging in his chains until a violent gale arose, and they bethought themselves that Ojeda was a skilful navigator. They then parleyed, offering him his liberty if he would pilot the ship, and he consented, but all his skill was unavailing, and he was obliged to run her on the southern coast of Cuba—then as yet uncolonised, except by runaway slaves from Hayti. Here they made a toilsome march through forests and morasses, crossing mountains and rivers, in a nearly starved condition. One morass, entangled by roots and creeping vines, and cut up by sloughs and creeks, occupied them thirty days to cross, at the end of which time only thirty-five men survived out of seventy that had left the ship. At last they reached an Indian village. “The Indians gathered round and gazed at them with wonder, but when they learnt their story, they exhibited a humanity that would have done honour to the most professing Christians. They bore them to their dwellings, set meat and drink before them, and vied with each other in discharging the offices of the kindest humanity. Finding that a number of their companions were still in the morass, the cacique sent a large party of Indians with provisions for their relief, with orders to bring on their shoulders such as were too feeble to walk.... The Spaniards were brought to the village, succoured, cherished, consoled, and almost worshipped as if they had been angels.” And now Ojeda prepared to carry out a vow he had made on his journey, that if saved, he would erect a little hermitage or oratory, with an altar, above which he would place the picture to which he attributed his wonderful escape. The cacique listened with attention to his explanations regarding the beneficence of the Virgin, whom he represented as the mother of the Deity who reigned above, and acquired a profound veneration for the picture. Long after, when the Bishop Las Casas, who has recorded these facts, arrived at the same village, he found the chapel preserved with [pg 314]religious care. But when he offered—wishing to obtain possession of the relic—to exchange it for an image of the Virgin, the chief made an evasive reply, and next morning was missing, having fled with the picture in his possession. It was all in vain that Las Casas sent messages after him, “assuring him that he should not be deprived of the relic, but, on the contrary, that the image should likewise be presented to him.” The cacique would not return to the village till he knew that the Spaniards had departed.

We find Ojeda next in Jamaica, and afterwards in San Domingo, where he inquired earnestly after the Bachelor Enciso, who had, it will be remembered, promised to aid him with reinforcements and supplies. He was assured that that ambitious lawyer had sailed for the settlement, which was a fact. Next we find the sanguine Ojeda endeavouring to set on foot another armament, but the failure of his colony was too well understood, and there were no more volunteers, either as regards personal service or pecuniary aid. The poor adventurer was destined never again to see his settlement, the subsequent history of which is a series of intrigues and disasters. He died in abject poverty in San Domingo, and “so broken in spirit that, with his last breath, he intreated his body might be buried in the monastery of St. Francisco, just at the portal, in humble expiation of his past pride, that every one who entered might tread upon his grave.” Nicuesa, after many vicissitudes, was lost at sea. The Bachelor Enciso was rather snubbed when he arrived at Ojeda’s colony, but made some fortunate ventures, and plundered a village on the banks of a river named Darien, collecting great quantities of gold ornaments, bracelets, anklets, plates, and what not, with food and cotton to the value of ten thousand castillanos, or about ten thousand seven hundred pounds sterling. Among the men who for a time served with Enciso was Vasco Nuñez de Balbao, afterwards the discoverer of the Pacific from the Isthmus of Darien, of whom these pages have already furnished some account. He joined the expedition of Enciso in a very curious manner. He had been a man of very loose and prodigal habits, but had settled down on a farm in Hispaniola, where he soon became hopelessly involved in debt. The proposed armament gave him the opportunity he sought of running away from his creditors. He concealed himself in a cask, which was taken on board the vessel as though containing provisions. When the vessel was fairly out at sea “Nuñez emerged like an apparition from his cask, to the great surprise of Enciso, who had been totally ignorant of the stratagem. The Bachelor was indignant at being thus outwitted, even though he gained a recruit by the deception, and, in the first ebullition of his wrath, gave the fugitive debtor a very rough reception, threatening to put him on shore on the first uninhabited island they should encounter. Vasco Nuñez, however, succeeded in pacifying him, ‘for God,’ says the venerable Las Casas, ‘reserved him for greater things.’ ” It was Nuñez who afterwards directed Enciso to the village where he obtained so much plunder.

Another remarkable man of that age was Juan Ponce de Leon, the conqueror of Porto Rico, and the discoverer of Florida. He had amassed a considerable amount of wealth in the former place, and, like many of the active discoverers of that energetic age, was ambitious for new triumphs. By accident he met with some Indians who assured him “that far to the [pg 315]north, there existed a land abounding in gold and in all manner of delights; but, above all, possessing a river of such wonderful virtue, that whoever bathed in it would be restored to youth! They added that in times past, before the arrival of the Spaniards, a large party of the natives of Cuba had departed northward in search of this happy land and this river of life, and, having never returned, it was concluded that they were flourishing in renewed youth, detained by the pleasures of that enchanting country.” Others told him that in a certain island of the Bahamas, called Bimini, there was a fountain possessing the same marvellous and inestimable qualities, and that whoever drank from it would secure perennial youth. Juan Ponce listened to these fables with credulity, and actually fitted out three vessels at his own expense to prosecute the discovery, and obtained numerous volunteers to assist him. “It may seem incredible,” says Irving, “at the present day, that a man of years and experience could yield any faith to a story which resembles the wild fiction of an Arabian tale; but the wonders and novelties breaking upon the world in that age of discovery almost realised the illusions of fable, and the imaginations of the Spanish voyagers had become so heated that they were capable of any stretch of credulity.” A similar statement was made by an eminent man of learning, Peter Martyr, to Leo X., then Bishop of Rome. Juan Ponce left Porto Rico on the 3rd March, 1512, for the Bahama Islands, on his search for the Fountain of Youth, but all his inquiries and explorations failed in its discovery. Still he persevered, and was rewarded in discovering on the mainland a country in the fresh bloom of spring, the trees gay with blossoms and abounding with flowers. He took possession of it in the name of the Castilian sovereigns, and gave it the name of Florida, which it still retains. He subsequently discovered a group of islands, where his sailors, in the course of one night, caught one hundred and seventy turtles. He appropriately named them the Tortugas, or Turtles, the title they also still bear. Disheartened by the failure of his special mission, he gave up the command to a trusty captain, and returned to Porto Rico, “where he arrived infinitely poorer in purse and wrinkled in brow, by this cruise after inexhaustible riches and perpetual youth.” His captain arrived soon after with the news that he had discovered the island of Bimini, and that it abounded in crystal springs and limpid streams, which kept the island ever fresh and verdant; “but none that could restore to an old man the vernal greenness of his youth.” As late as 1521 we find old Juan Ponce engaged in a new expedition to Florida, where, in an encounter with the Indians, he was fatally wounded by an arrow. He retired to Cuba, where he died shortly afterwards. The Spaniards said of him that he was a lion by name, and still more by nature.

The name of Magellan, or Magalhaens, is more familiar to the general reader than some of those which have preceded it in this chapter. He was a Portuguese of noble birth, and had served honourably in India. When he made the offer of his services to his own sovereign, there is no doubt that the undertaking he proposed—viz., to determine the question whether the shores of South America were washed by an open sea—had been mooted before. To him however, belongs the credit of having brought that question to an issue. His own king would have nought to do with his project, and dismissed him with a frown. Magellan, accompanied by Ruy Falero, an astrologer (the astrologers were in part the astronomers of those days), who was associated with him in the enterprise, next made his proposals to the Spanish Emperor, Charles V., by whom he was received with attention and respect. Articles of agreement were drawn up, to this effect: the navigator agreed to reach the Moluccas by sailing to the west; [pg 316]they were to enjoy for ten years the exclusive right to the track (!), and to receive the twentieth part of all profits accruing from their discoveries, with some special privileges in regard to the merchandise of the first voyage. Moreover, the Emperor agreed to furnish five vessels, and victual them for two years—an unusual act of liberality in those days, when the monarchs usually contented themselves with conferring patents, privileges, and titles merely, which cost them nothing, and yet were often the means of subsequently enriching them. The sailing of the expedition was retarded by the machinations of the Portuguese king, who now professed a willingness to employ Magellan, and, failing in this, is said to have spread reports that “the King of Spain would lose his expenses, for Fernando Magellan was a chattering fellow, and little reliance could be placed in him, and that he would never execute that which he promised.” But at last, on the 20th September, 1519, the squadron got under weigh.

In the month of December following Magellan anchored in a port on the coast of Brazil, which he named Santa Lucia. The natives appeared a confiding and credulous race, and readily bartered provisions for the merest trifles; “half a dozen fowls were exchanged for a king of spades” (card). Putting again to sea, Magellan sailed southward, touching at various points till he came to anchor in a harbour which he named San Julian, and where he made a stay of five months. Here discontent, and at length open mutiny, broke out, the ringleaders being certain Spanish officers who felt mortified at serving under a Portuguese commander. Magellan was not a man to stand any nonsense, and was utterly unscrupulous. He despatched a person with a letter to one of the captains, with orders to stab him whilst he was engaged in reading it. This commission being rigorously executed, and followed up by other stringent measures, his authority was re-established through the mutineers’ knowledge and fear of his determined character.

In October of the next year, after various minor discoveries, he arrived at the entrance of the great strait which now bears his name. After careful examination of the opening, a council was held, at which the pilot, Estevan Gomez, voted for returning to refit, while the more enterprising wished to complete their discovery. Magellan listened patiently and silently, and then firmly declared that were he reduced to eat the hides on the yards—which were, in fact, the sails—he would keep his faith with the Emperor. It was forbidden to speak of home or scarcity of provisions on pain of death!

Two vessels were sent to reconnoitre in advance, and these were driven violently by a gale into the straits, where the two coasts more than once seemed to join, and the mariners thought all was lost, when a narrow channel would disclose itself, into which they would gladly enter. They returned, and made their report to Magellan, who ordered the whole squadron to advance. On reaching the open expanse of water into which the second gut opens, an inlet to the south-east was observed, and Estevan Gomez was sent in charge of one of two vessels to explore it. He took the opportunity to incite a mutiny, threw the captain into chains, and steered back for Spain. When the western or Pacific end of the straits was reached,[53] and they saw a grand open ocean beyond, they named the headland at the entrance, Il Capo Descado—[pg 317]the “Longed-for Cape”—and spent some days in erecting standards in conspicuous places, and in rejoicing over their discovery. On the 28th November, 1520, the small squadron reached the open sea, and took a northerly course towards the equator, in order to reach a milder climate, the sailors having suffered much in and about the straits.

FERDINAND DE MAGELLAN.

Magellan, besides minor discoveries, is fairly credited with that of the Philippine Islands, where he was treated in a most friendly manner. At Zebu he acted after the manner of his time; for, finding the people submissive and respectful, he exacted a tribute, which seems to have been willingly paid. One king, or chief, alone refused, which so incensed Magellan that he resolved to punish him. He accordingly landed with forty-nine of his followers, clothed in mail, and began an attack on 1,500 Indians. The battle raged some hours, but at last numbers prevailed, and only some seven or eight Spaniards remained with Magellan, the rest being either already killed or utterly routed. He himself was wounded in the limbs by a poisoned arrow, and his sword-arm being disabled he could no longer defend himself, and so fell a martyr to overweening ambition and greed. The voyage home was completed, and those of his men who remained had achieved the proud distinction of having been the first circumnavigators of the globe.

Before leaving the subject of remarkable voyages, a few supplementary remarks are necessary. The great epoch just mentioned was followed by great commercial activity, owing to the important discoveries of new lands made, and, of course, the map of the world was by degrees filled in with details which earlier explorers had overlooked. In some previous chapters, notably those referring to the history of shipping and shipping interests, many of the more important voyages following those just described have been sufficiently noticed. In effect, the many subjects treated in connection with The Sea naturally intertwine, and the same voyages are in the course of this work occasionally mentioned more than once, though in different ways, and for different reasons.

No explorer’s name, after those recently considered, shines with more effulgency than [pg 318]that of the celebrated Captain Cook, already mentioned in two separate connections. Born in 1728, the son of an agricultural labourer and farm bailiff, he early showed an irresistible inclination for the sea, and could not be chained down to the haberdasher’s counter, for which his father had destined him. He commenced his seafaring life as an apprentice on a collier, but soon rose to be mate. He next entered the royal navy, where, from able seaman, his promotion was rapid. Some charts and observations drawn up by him while marine surveyor of the coasts of Newfoundland and Labrador brought him much notice from scientific quarters, and the Royal Society offered him the command of an expedition to the Pacific, to make an observation of the transit of Venus. This was the first of his three great voyages, during which he re-discovered New Zealand,[54] practically took possession of Australia, proved that New Guinea was a separate island, made discoveries in the Antarctic, discovered the Sandwich Islands, and made the northern explorations also mentioned previously. He met his death on the island of Hawaii (Sandwich Islands), in the tragical manner known almost to every schoolboy.

It would appear that, previous to the fatal day, there had been some little trouble with the natives. One day, the officer who had commanded a watering-party returned to the ship, stating that some chief had driven away the natives employed in rolling the casks to the beach, work which had been gladly performed before for trifling payments. A marine, with side-arms only, was sent back with him, when it was noticed that the islanders were arming with stones, and two others with loaded muskets were sent off to the watering party’s assistance, which for the moment quieted the matter. Captain Cook gave orders that, if the natives should venture to attack his men, they should in the future fire on them with balls, instead of small shot, as hitherto. And not long after a volley proceeding from the Discovery, fired after a retreating canoe, announced that his orders were being carried into execution. Ignorant that some stolen goods were thereupon returned, Cook himself, with an officer and a marine, chased these natives on shore, but fruitlessly. Meantime, the officer who had recovered the stolen goods, thinking that he might retaliate, took possession of a canoe on the beach, which act the owner naturally resented, and a scuffle ensued, during which he was knocked down by a blow from an oar. The natives returned the attack with a shower of stones, and would have destroyed the pinnace but for the interference of the very man who had just been knocked on the head, who was, however, still friendly inclined towards the English.

Captain Cook was naturally annoyed at and perplexed by these occurrences. In the course of the next night a boat was stolen from the Discovery, and Cook at once ordered a body of marines ashore, going with them himself, and taking a double-barrelled gun, one barrel loaded with small shot, and the other with a bullet. The other boats were ordered out to prevent any canoe from leaving the bay until the matter was settled. Arrived ashore, he marched up to the old king, who to every appearance had had no hand in the theft, nor had connived at it, for he promised to go on board with the captain, the latter intending to keep him as a hostage. The chief’s two sons were already in the pinnace, when his wife entreated him with tears not to go off to the ship. Two chiefs also, at this juncture, forcibly laid hold of the old man, and made him sit down on the beach. Cook [pg 319]saw from the general aspect of affairs, and the gathering thousands on the beach, that he must give up his idea, and proceeded slowly to the place of embarkation.

It appears that, while this was going on, some of the men on the boats stationed around the bay had fired on some escaping canoes, and worse, had killed a chief. The news arrived ashore just as Cook was leaving, and the natives immediately began to put on their war-mats, and arm themselves. One of them, carrying an iron dagger, which he brandished wildly, threatened Cook with a large stone, and the captain at last could stand his insolence no longer, and gave him a volley of small shot. This against the native’s thick war-mat was about as effective as shooting peas against a rhinoceros. Next came a volley of stones in return, while an attempt was made to stab a marine officer, who returned a heavy blow from the butt-end of his musket. A native crawled behind a canoe, and then aimed a spear at Cook, who soon gave them the contents of his other barrel, killing one of the assailants. In quick succession, volleys of stones were answered by a volley of musketry; four marines fell, and were speedily despatched. Cook now stood by the water’s edge, signalling the men to stop firing and get on board; but in the scuffle and confusion his orders were not understood. A lieutenant commanding one of the boats blundered, or worse, to the extent of taking his boat further off, so that the picking up of the wounded marines was thrown entirely on the pinnace, which had been brought in as near the shore as the master was able to come. Poor Cook was left alone on a rock, where he was seen trying to shield his head from the shower of stones with the one hand, while he still grasped his musket in the other. So soon as his back was turned, the natives attacked him, one clubbing him down, and another stabbing him in the neck. Again he dropped in the water knee-deep, looking earnestly out for help from the pinnace, not more than a few yards off. But the end was near. The savages got him under in deeper water. In his death-struggle he broke from them, and clung to the rock. In a second there was another blow, and the end had come. His body was dragged ashore and mutilated. After the fall of their commander, the survivors of the men escaped under cover of a fire kept up from the boats. But for Cook himself, one of the most humane of commanders, nothing seems to have been attempted in the hurry and excitement of the scuffle.

Cook’s body—or as much as remained of it—was subsequently recovered, and committed to the deep, the guns booming solemnly over the watery grave of one of England’s greatest explorers. While the rites were being performed, absolute unbroken silence was enjoined upon the natives ashore and afloat, nor was the water disturbed by the dip of a single paddle. Thus perished, at the early age of fifty-one, in a miserable scuffle with semi-savages, Captain James Cook, a navigator whose fame was and still remains world-wide.

Our space will only permit us to refer, briefly, to one other notable voyage, namely, that of Vancouver, whose first experiences were gained with Cook. The fame of this explorer rests very much upon his circumnavigation, towards the end of the eighteenth century, of the island which now bears his name. The actual discovery of the entrance to the straits between the island and mainland dates from the time of De Fuca; while Vancouver himself, in the following passage, admits a prior claim to its partial investigation. He says—“At four o’clock a sail was discovered to the westward standing in shore. This was [pg 320]a very great novelty, not having seen any vessel but our consort during the last eight months. She soon hoisted American colours, and fired a gun to leeward. At six we spoke her. She proved to be the ship Columbia, commanded by Mr. Robert Gray, belonging to Boston, from which port she had been absent nineteen months. Having little doubt of his being the same person who had formerly commanded the sloop Washington, I desired he would bring to, and sent Mr. Puget and Mr. Menzies on board to acquire such information as might be serviceable in our future operations.”

On the return of the boat, Vancouver found that his conjectures had not been ungrounded, and that Mr. Gray was the same gentleman who had commanded the sloop Washington at the time she had made a voyage behind the island. It was a little remarkable that on his approach to the entrance of this inland sea or strait, he should fall in with the identical person who, it had been stated, had sailed through it. Mr. Gray assured the officers, however, that he had penetrated only fifty miles into the straits in question in an ESE. direction; that he found the passage five leagues wide; and that he understood from the natives that the opening extended a considerable distance to the northward. He then returned to the ocean the same way he had entered it. This inlet he supposed to be the same De Fuca had discovered. The fact, however, remains that Vancouver most thoroughly explored the coasts of the island, and the inlets and shores of Puget Sound, Washington Territory, and British Columbia—countries which are slowly but surely taking their proper place in the world’s estimation.

END OF VOLUME III.

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