The Great White North / The story of polar exploration from the earliest times to the discovery of the pole

by Helen S. Wright

CHAPTER XIII

Charles Francis Hall.—Early life.—Interest in fate of Sir John Franklin.—First journey to Greenland.—Discovery of Frobisher relics.—Experiences and study of the Eskimos.—Second journey.—Delays and disappointments.—Sledging trips.—King William’s Land at last.—Franklin relics.—Return of Hall to United States.—Polaris expedition.—Reaches high northing.—Hall’s sledge journey.—Return and death.—Polaris winters. No escape.—Polaris is wrecked.—Part of crew adrift on the ice-floe.—Remainder build winter hut.—Final rescue and return to United States.

CHARLES FRANCIS HALL

The personality of Charles Francis Hall is singularly interesting. Born in Rochester, New Hampshire, in 1821, he received a common school education and pursued the vocation of blacksmith, journalist, stationer, and engraver.

In 1850, while living in Cincinnati, Ohio, he became deeply interested in the fate of Sir John Franklin, and for over nine years made a thorough study of Arctic history and, especially, of the Franklin search expeditions. Unconvinced by the admirable report of Captain M’Clintock in 1859 of the death of Franklin and the fate of his companions, Hall maintained the opinion that survivors of the unfortunate expedition must still be living among the Eskimos, and could be found. By the aid of public subscriptions and the liberal patronage of Mr. Henry Grinnell, Hall undertook a journey, May 29, 1860, sailing from New London, on the whaler, George Henry, commanded by Captain S. O. Buddington.

Forty days later (7th of July, 1860), the George Henry dropped anchor at Holsteinborg, Greenland. Hall was unsuccessful in the main object of his undertaking (his proposed journey to King William Land) and spent the best part of two years near Frobisher Bay, where he acquired much knowledge of the speech, habits, and life of the Eskimos, and discovered a quantity of relics left by Frobisher’s expedition of 1577-1578.

Of the first traditionary history gained from the Eskimos relative to Frobisher’s expedition, Hall says in notes under date of April 9, 1861:—

“Among the traditions handed down from one generation to another, there is this: that many—very many years ago, some white men built a ship on one of the islands of Frobisher Bay and went away.

“I think I can see through this in this way: Frobisher, in 1578, assembled a large part of his fleet in what he called ‘Countess of Warwick Sound’ (said to be in that bay below us), when a council was held on the 1st of August, at which it was determined to send all persons and things on shore upon ‘Countess of Warwick Island’; and on August 2d orders were proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, for the guidance of the company during their abode thereon. For reasons stated in the history, the company did not tarry here long, but departed for ‘Meta Incognita,’ and thence to England, how may not the fact of timbers, chips, etc., etc., having been found on one of the islands (within a day’s journey of here) many years ago, prove that the said materials were of this Frobisher’s company, and that hence the Innuit tradition? In a few days I hope to be exploring Frobisher Bay.”

Describing the circumstances of his interesting discovery on Countess of Warwick Island, Hall writes:—

“We continued on around the island, finding, every few fathoms in our progress, numerous Innuit relics. At length we arrived at a plain that extended back a considerable distance from the coast. Here we recognized, at our right, about sixty rods distant, the point to which we first directed our steps on reaching the high land after leaving the boat.

“I was several fathoms in advance of Koo-ou-le-arng, hastening on, being desirous to make as extended a search as the brief remaining daylight would allow, when, lifting my eyes from the ground near me, I discovered, a considerable distance ahead, an object of an unusual appearance. But a second look satisfied me that what I saw were simply stones scattered about and covered with black moss. I continued my course, keeping as near the coast as possible. I was now nearing the spot where I had first descried the black object. It again met my view; and my original thought on first seeing it resumed at once the ascendency in my mind. I hastened to the spot. ‘Great God! Thou hast rewarded me in my search!’ was the sentiment that came overwhelmingly into my thankful soul. On casting my eyes all around, seeing and feeling the character (moss-aged, for some of the pieces I saw had pellicles of black moss on them) of the relics before and under me, I felt as—I cannot tell what my feelings were—what I saw before me was sea-coal of Frobisher’s expedition of 1578, left here near three centuries ago!”

A more thorough search in the vicinity undertaken at a later period resulted in the finding of flint-stone; fragments of tile, glass, pottery, an excavation which Hall called an abandoned mine, the ruins of three stone houses, one of which was twelve feet in diameter, with palpable evidence of its having been erected on a foundation of stone cemented together with lime and sand; large pieces of iron time-eaten and weather-worn, which “the rust of three centuries had firmly cemented to the sand and stones in which it had lain.”

It will be remembered that of the one hundred men sent out from England with Frobisher in 1578, the majority were miners sent for the express purpose of digging for the rich ore of which Frobisher had carried specimens home on his return from his second voyage, and which was supposed to be very valuable. The miners made “proofs,” as they are called, in various parts of the regions discovered by him. Some of these “proofs” are doubtless what Captain Hall found, and, in connection with other circumstances, evidenced the exact location of Frobisher’s “Countess of Warwick Mine.” Captain Hall presented many of the relics he brought home to the British government through the Royal Geographical Society of London.

HALL’S SECOND JOURNEY

Upon his return to New London (September 13, 1862), Hall immediately endeavoured, through lectures and personal appeals, to equip another expedition to the Arctic. The unsettled state of the nation, plunged into the horrors of a great civil war, made his efforts practically futile; undaunted by the discouraging response, he nevertheless sailed July 1, 1864, and in August was landed, with his meagre equipment, boat and provisions, on Depot Island, Hudson Bay, 64° N., 90° W. Adopting the habits and life of the Eskimos, Hall spent five years in pursuing his researches, receiving occasionally supplies from whalers.

The first year was spent in unsuccessful efforts to secure Eskimo aid. The winter of 1865-1866, Hall had his headquarters at Fort Hope, Repulse Bay, and in the spring reached Cape Weyton, 68° N., 89° W. The Eskimos refused to accompany him farther, but he had the good fortune to meet with natives who had visited the deserted ships, and had seen Franklin. Hall secured from these Eskimos considerable silver bearing the crest of Franklin and other officers.

Captain Hall and Eskimos

In February, 1867, Hall visited Igloolik, the winter quarters of Parry in 1822. He improved the next year by following up the west side of Melville Peninsula, completing and surveying the short gap between Rae’s farthest, 1846, and Parry’s farthest in Fury Strait, 1825. The winter of 1868-1869 was spent at Fort Hope, where he at last succeeded in securing Eskimo aid for the final attempt to reach King William Land. He started in March, 1869, in company with ten Eskimos and dog sledges.

Crossing Rae Peninsula to Committee Bay and via Boothia Isthmus, the party reached James Ross Strait, distant some sixty miles from King William Land. Here he had difficulty in persuading the natives to continue, but at Simpson Island the success of a musk-ox hunt restored their good humour, and they consented to proceed. On the 12th of May, 1869, Hall reached the mainland; his stay was necessarily very brief, as his native companions could not be persuaded to linger in such a desolate country.

RELICS OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN

Upon his return to Repulse Bay, Captain Hall, in a letter to Mr. Henry Grinnell, dated June 20, 1869, writes in part:—

“The result of my sledge journey to King William’s Land may be summed up thus: None of Sir John Franklin’s companions ever reached or died on Montreal Island. It was late in July, 1848, that Crozier and his party of about forty or forty-five passed down the west coast of King William’s Land in the vicinity of Cape Herschel. The party was dragging two sledges on the sea-ice, which was nearly in its last stage of dissolution; one a large sledge laden with an awning-covered boat, and the other a small one laden with provisions and camp material. Just before Crozier and party arrived at Cape Herschel, they were met by four families of natives, and both parties went into camp near each other. Two Eskimo men, who were of the native party, gave me much sad, but deeply interesting, information. Some of it stirred my heart with sadness, intermingled with rage, for it was a confession that they, with their companions, did secretly and hastily abandon Crozier and his party to suffer and die for need of fresh provisions, when in truth it was in the power of the natives to save every man alive. The next trace of Crozier and his party is to be found in the skeleton which M’Clintock discovered a little below, to the southward and eastward of Cape Herschel. This was never found by the natives. The next trace is a camping place on the sea-shore of King William’s Land, about three miles eastward of Pfeffer River, where two men died and received Christian (?) burial. At this place fish-bones were found by the natives, which showed them that Crozier and his party had caught while there a species of fish excellent for food, with which the sea there abounds. The next trace of this party occurs about five or six miles eastward, on a long point of King William’s Land, where one man died and was buried. Then about south-southeast two and a half miles further, the next trace occurs on Todd’s Islet, where the remains of five men lie. The next certain trace of this party is on the west side of the islet, west of Point Richardson, on some low land that is an island or part of the mainland, as the tide may be. Here the awning-covered boat and the remains of about thirty or thirty-five of Crozier’s party were found by the native Poo-yet-ta, of whom Sir John Ross has given a description in the account of his voyage in the Victory in 1829-’34. In the spring of 1849, a large tent was found by the natives whom I saw, the floor of which was completely covered with the remains of white men.

“Close by were two graves. This tent was a little way inland from the head of Terror Bay. In the spring of 1861, when the snow was nearly all gone, an Eskimo party, conducted by a native well known throughout the northern regions, found two boats, with many skeletons in and about them. One of these boats had been previously found by M’Clintock; the other was found lying from a quarter to a half mile distant, and must have been completely entombed in snow at the time M’Clintock’s parties were there, or they most assuredly would have seen it. In and about this boat, beside the skeletons alluded to, were found many relics, most of them similar in character to those M’Clintock has enumerated as having been found in the boat he discovered. I tried hard to accomplish far more than I did, but not one of the company would on any account whatever consent to remain with me in that country and make a summer search over that island, which, from information I had gained from the natives, I had reason to suppose would be rewarded by the discovery of the whole of the manuscript records that had been accumulated in that great expedition, and had been deposited in a vault, a little way inland or eastward of Cape Victory. Knowing as I now do the character of the Eskimos in that part of the country in which King William’s Land is situated, I cannot wonder at nor blame the Repulse Bay natives for their refusal to remain there as I desired. It is quite probable that, had we remained there as I wished, no one of us would ever have got out of the country alive. How could we expect, if we got into straitened circumstances, that we would receive better treatment from the Eskimos of that country than the 105 souls who were under the command of the heroic Crozier some time after landing on King William’s Land? Could I and my party with reasonable safety have remained to make a summer search on King William’s Land, it is not only probable that we should have recovered the logs and journals of Sir John Franklin’s Expedition, but have gathered up and entombed the remains of nearly 100 of his companions; for they lie about the places where the three boats have even been found and at the large camping-place at the head of Terror Bay and the three other places that I have already mentioned. In the cove, west side of Point Richardson, however, nature herself has opened her bosom and given sepulture to the bones of the immortal heroes who died there. Wherever the Eskimos have found the graves of Franklin’s companions, they have dug them open and robbed the dead, leaving them exposed to the ravages of wild beasts. On Todd’s Island, the remains of five men were not buried; but, after the savages had robbed them of every article that could be turned to account for their use, their dogs were allowed to finish the disgusting work. The native who conducted my native party in its search over King William’s Land is the same individual who gave Dr. Rae the first information about white men having died to the westward of where he (Dr. Rae) then was (Pelly Bay) in the spring of 1854. His name is In-nook-poo-zhe-jook, and he is a native of Neitchille, a very great traveller and very intelligent. He is, in fact, a walking history of the fate of Sir John Franklin’s Expedition. This native I met when within one day’s sledge journey of King William’s Land—off Point Dryden; and after stopping a few days among his people, he accompanied me to the places I visited on and about King William’s Land.

“I could have readily gathered quantities—a very great variety of relics of Sir John Franklin’s expedition, for they are now possessed by natives all over the Arctic Regions that I visited or heard of—from Pond’s Bay to Mackenzie River. As it was, I had to be satisfied with taking upon our sledges about 125 pounds total weight of relics from natives about King William’s Land. Some of these I will enumerate: 1. A portion of one side (several planks and ribs fast together) of a boat, clinker-built and copper-fastened. This part of a boat is of the one found near the boat found by M’Clintock’s party. 2. A small oak sledge-runner, reduced from the sledge on which the boat rested. 3. Part of the mast of the Northwest Passage ship. 4. Chronometer-box, with its number, name of the maker, and the Queen’s broad arrow engraved upon it. 5. Two long heavy sheets of copper, three and four inches wide, with countersunk holes for screw-nails. On these sheets, as well as on most everything else that came from the Northwest Passage ship, are numerous stamps of the Queen’s broad arrow. 6. Mahogany writing-desk, elaborately finished and bound in brass. 7. Many pieces of silver-plate, forks, and spoons, bearing crests and initial of the owners. 8. Parts of watches. 9. Knives and very many other things which you, Mr. Grinnell, and others interested in the fate of the Franklin Expedition, will take a sad interest in inspecting on their arrival in the States. One entire skeleton I have brought to the United States.”

Hall, some time after his return, placed the carefully preserved remains in charge of Mr. Brevoort, of Brooklyn, who transferred them to Admiral Inglefield, R. N., to be forwarded to England. Subsequently (by the plug of a tooth) the skeleton was identified as the remains of Lieutenant Veconte, of the Erebus.

The same year that the Erebus and Terror were abandoned, one of them consummated the Great Northwest Passage, having five men aboard. The evidence of the exact number is circumstantial. Everything about this Northwest Passage ship was in complete order. It was found by the Ood-joo-lik natives near O’Reilly Island, latitude 68° 30´ N., longitude 99° W., early in the spring of 1849, frozen in the midst of a floe of only one winter’s formation.

HALL’S RETURN TO THE UNITED STATES

With the unwilling consciousness that he could accomplish nothing further of research in the Frozen Regions, Captain Hall had now to think of a return to the United States; purposing there to collate and publish the result of his protracted Arctic experience, then to make his long meditated voyage to the Pole, and, if possible, afterward revisit King William’s Land.

In regard to his plans he writes:—

“I hope to start next spring with a vessel for Jones’ Sound, and thence toward the North Pole as far as navigation will permit. The following spring, by sledge journey, I will make for the goal of my ambition, the North Pole. I do hope to be able to resume snow-hut and tent encampment very near the Pole by the latter part of 1870, and much nearer, indeed at the very Pole, in the spring following, to wit, in 1871. There is no use in man’s saying, it cannot be done—that the North Pole is beyond our reach. By judicious plans, and by having a carefully selected company, I trust with a Heaven-protecting care to reach it in less time, and with far less mental anxieties, than I have experienced to get to King William’s Land. I have always held to the opinion that whoever would lead the way there should first have years of experience among the wild natives of the North: and this is one of my reasons for submitting to searching so long for the lost ones of Franklin’s Expedition.”

The expression of such purposes, including that of a subsequent return to King William’s Land, is certainly remarkable, as coming from one whose sledge journeys only, during the five years which now closed upon him, exceeded the aggregate of four thousand miles. A willingness “to resume snow-hut and tent” would seem explicable only by supposing that next to the lofty ideas with which his mind enthusiastically invested everything Arctic, was the extreme of a strange fascination with the uncouth life he had been leading. He says himself, at about this same date, that there was nothing in the way of food in which the natives delighted that he did not delight in, and that this may appear strange to some, but was true. He had that day “a grand good feast on the kind of meat he had been longing for—the deer killed last fall; rotten, strong, and stinking, and for these qualities, excellent for Innuits and for the writer.”

Hall, accompanied by his faithful Eskimo friends, Joe, Hannah, and her adopted child Pun-na, returned to New Bedford, Massachusetts, September 26, 1869. When off the lighthouse of Nantucket, Massachusetts, Hannah and her child dropped their native dresses and put on those of a civilized land.

Immediately upon his return to the States, Captain Hall endeavoured to arouse public interest in his long-cherished plan for an expedition to the Pole. By untiring personal efforts and the support of enthusiastic friends, he succeeded in engaging the attention of Congress, which authorized “An Expedition to the North Pole, the only one in the history of the nation.” Fifty thousand dollars was appropriated for expenses and a vessel selected from the navy, which was thoroughly fitted out at an expense of ninety thousand more.

“Never was an Arctic expedition more completely fitted out,” wrote Hall, at Godhaven, in a letter home August 22.

The Polaris, in command of Captain Hall, with S. O. Buddington as sailing-master, Dr. Emil Bessels in charge of the scientific work, and twenty-four others, sailed from New London, Connecticut, July 3, 1871. At Proven, Hans, the dog driver, who had served with Kane and Hayes, accompanied by his wife and three children, was taken aboard.

The Polaris encountered a great deal of ice at the entrance of Wolstenholme Sound, so that the passage through it was effected with much difficulty. Steaming through the leads, she was compelled to stop for the first time off the western shore of Hakluyt Island on August 27.

By August 29, she stood in latitude 82° 11´ N., having successfully navigated Kane Basin, Kennedy Channel, Hall Basin, and Robeson Channel, and into the Polar Sea. Unable to retain her position by the force of the current, she returned southward and went into winter quarters in 81° 38´ north latitude at Thank God Harbor, Greenland.

Captain Hall was very desirous of making a sledge journey before the winter set in, for the purpose of reconnoitring and selecting the best route for his great journey in the spring toward the Pole.

Funeral of Captain Hall

By the 28th of September, the final preparations for this journey were complete. The dogs were selected and carefully fed. The Eskimos had put the sledge in order, and those selected to accompany Captain Hall were busy making their personal preparations. Not until the 10th of October was the start finally made, Hall being accompanied by Mr. Chester and the Eskimos, Joe and Hans.

DEATH OF HALL

On the 24th of October, the sledge party returned, having reached as far north as Cape Brevoort, 82° N. They had all been well, during their two weeks’ absence, with the exception of Captain Hall, who had complained that he did not feel his wonted vigour and endurance; and for the last three days had not felt at all well.

He had frequently expressed his surprise during the journey that he was not able to run before the sleds and encourage the dogs, as on former expeditions, but had been compelled to keep on the sled. Captain Hall had not been aboard half an hour before he was taken violently ill, and by 8 P.M. his entire left side was paralyzed as the result of an apoplectic attack. By the evening of the 25th, he was delirious; on November 7, he sank into a comatose state, breathing heavily; he remained in this condition until 3:25 A.M. of the 8th, when he died.

The sad news was broken to the ship’s company, and none felt his loss more than the Eskimos, Joe and Hannah, who had been his constant companions for nearly ten years. These faithful friends had looked upon him as a father, and were now heart-broken.

On November 11, Captain George Tyson, assistant navigator of the expedition, wrote in his diary:—

“As we went to the grave this morning, the coffin hauled on a sledge, over which was spread, instead of a pall, the American flag, we walked in procession. I walked on with my lantern a little in advance; then came the captain and officers, the engineer, Dr. Bessel, and Meyers; and then the crew, hauling the body by a rope attached to the sledge, one of the men on the right holding another lantern. Nearly all are dressed in skins, and, were there other eyes to see us, we should look like anything but a funeral cortège. The Eskimos followed the crew. There is a weird sort of light in the air, partly boreal or electric, through which the stars shone brightly at 11 A.M., while on our way to the grave.

“Thus end poor Hall’s ambitious projects; thus is stilled the effervescing enthusiasm of as ardent a nature as I ever knew. Wise he might not always have been, but his soul was in this work, and had he lived till spring, I think he would have gone as far as mortal man could go to accomplish his mission. But with his death I fear that all hopes of further progress will have to be abandoned.”

The death of Captain Hall proved to be fatal to the main object of the expedition—the attainment of the Pole; if possible—or the absolute proof of its inaccessibility. The command of the expedition now devolved upon Captain Buddington.

Several unsuccessful boat journeys to the north were followed by a sledge journey under Dr. Bessels, to Petermann Fiord. Another boat journey by Mr. Chester reached Newman Bay, but it was left to Sergeant F. Meyer, Signal Corps, U. S. Army, to reach on foot the most northerly land at that time ever reached by civilized man, near Repulse Harbor, 82° 09´ N.

“POLARIS” ADRIFT AMONG THE ICEBERGS

On the 11th of August, 1872, the ice of the straits was observed to be in motion, drifting to the south. With the hope of releasing the ship and returning home, Captain Buddington, after an examination of the ice, decided it would be safe to force the vessel through. At 4:30 P.M. the engines were started, and the Polaris left Thank God Harbor; with great care the vessel was piloted between the heavy floes, changing her course frequently, but always gaining ground. By the 18th, she stood 79° 44´ 30´´ N.

On the 27th, every preparation was made for a possible abandonment of the vessel. A house was built on the floe, as a retreat in case the ship should be destroyed. For nearly two months the Polaris drifted southward at the mercy of the ice-pack, and was nipped near Little Island by October 13.

“At 5 A.M. of the 15th (October),” writes Admiral Davis in his “Narrative of the North Polar Expedition,” “a very heavy snow began to fall, and continued until 8 A.M., when the wind blew so hard that it was impossible to distinguish between the falling and drifting snow. The gale increased all day, driving the vessel with its surrounding ice with great rapidity. It commenced to blow from the S. E., but shifted to the S., and finally to the S. W. During its prevalence, the air was so completely filled with the flying snow that one could not see more than 20 or 30 feet. The ship had remained fast to the floe so long, and drifted with it so far, that no particular anxiety was felt as to the result.

“The captain had, however, always said that if the vessel passed through Smith Strait, he would not feel easy until the ice in which she lay, had joined the regular Baffin’s Bay pack.

“The ‘north-water,’ as it is called by whalemen, is always found in the northern part of Baffin Bay, and he knew that, were this safely crossed, the ship would float quietly down with the pack all winter, and be released in the spring far to the south.

“The direction in which the vessel was moving was a matter of speculation; the fact of her moving was admitted. The daily work being done, after dinner the men settled themselves down as usual for the enjoyments of the evening. At 6 P.M., it was reported that the starboard side of the vessel was free from ice. The captain turned out the crew, and secured the ship by an additional hawser to the floe. This extra hawser was over the stern and led from a large ice-anchor, sunk in the floe to the main-mast. Two hawsers had served during the whole of the drift to hold the Polaris to the floe, one over the bows and one over the stern. Final preparations were made to abandon the vessel, nearly everything had been got ready on deck; the seamen still had their clothes and personal effects to look after.

“The Polaris was driven along at a very rapid rate. Many eager faces looked over the rail and peered into the darkness and the gloom, wondering what would happen next. The sky was threatening. The moon struggled in vain to break through the clouds. Two icebergs were passed in close proximity. Some judgment could be formed by means of them as to the rapidity with which the vessel was moving. One could scarcely help shuddering as he thought of the consequences of running into one of those gigantic ice-mountains. One or two persons thought the land was visible, but it was very uncertain.

THE WRECK OF THE “POLARIS”

“At 7:30 the vessel ran among some icebergs, which brought up the floe to which she was attached; at the same time, the pack closed up, jamming her heavily; it was then the vessel secured her severest nip. It is hard to describe the effect of that pressure. She shook and trembled. She was raised up bodily and thrown over on her port side. Her timbers cracked with loud report, especially about the stern. The sides seemed to be breaking in. The cleat to which one of the after hawsers was attached snapped off, and the hawser was secured to the mast. One of the firemen, hurrying on deck, reported that a piece of ice had been driven through the sides. Escape from destruction seemed to be impossible. The pressure and the noise increased together. The violence of the night, and the grinding of the ice, added to the horror of the situation. Feeling it was extremely doubtful whether the ship would stand, Captain Buddington ordered provisions and stores to be thrown upon the ice. Then followed a busy scene. Each one was deeply impressed with the exigency of the moment, and exerted himself to the utmost. Boxes, barrels, cans, etc., were thrown over the side with extraordinary rapidity. Men performed gigantic feats of strength, tossing with apparent ease, in the excitement of the moment, boxes which at other times they would not have essayed to lift. Forward, coal and more substantial provisions and bags of clothing were thrown overboard; abaft, the lighter boxes of canned meats and tobacco, with all the musk-ox skins and fresh seal-meat, were transported to and fro. The cabin was entirely emptied, beds and bedding, clothes and even ornaments, were carried out. Messrs. Bryan and Meyer placed upon the floe the boxes containing all their note-books, observations, etc. This was done deliberately and after mutual consultation. The boxes were too large to be carried about, and, in the actual condition of things, the floe appeared to be decidedly the best place.

“The Eskimo women and children took refuge on the ice, and two boats were lowered and with a scow placed on the floe.

“The pressure had now become so great that the great floe itself had cracked in several places, and the vessel was gradually breaking its edge and bearing down the pieces. Many articles had been thrown in a heap near the ship, and it was found that some of the lower things in the pile were dropping through between the vessel and the ice. It was also seen that should the ship be cut through and sink, many, if not all these articles, would sink with her. A call was therefore made for these men to carry these articles to a safer place on the floe. There was no special designation for that duty; but Captain Tyson, taking several persons with him, at once entered on it. After laboring about one hour and a half, the decks were cleared and the men on board ship had finished their work. At 9:30 P.M., by some change in the ice, the starboard side was again clear; the vessel was free from pressure, and the cracks in the floe began to open.

THE SEPARATION OF THE CREW

“Unfortunately, two of these cracks ran through the places where the stern anchors had been planted, breaking their hold. The wind, still strong, now drove the vessel from the floe, and, the anchors dragging under the strain, she swung round to the forward hawser. The latter slipped, and the vessel was carried rapidly away from the ice. The night was black and stormy, and in a few moments the floe and its precious freight could no longer be seen through the drifting snow. Before the separation, it had been noticed that the floe was much broken on its edge; that the provisions and stores were separated from each other by rapidly widening cracks; that the men also were on different pieces of ice; that active efforts were being made to launch boats in order to bring the scattered people together. Several men were seen rushing toward the ship as she was leaving, but they failed to reach her. The voice of the steward, John Herron, was heard calling out, ‘Good-by, Polaris!’

“Nineteen persons were thus separated from the ship, including eight Eskimos and the baby of Hans and Hannah—fourteen men remained on board—‘This remnant of a crew, so suddenly reduced, gazed on each other for a few moments in silence—when the order was given to station the lookouts; the duties of the ship were resumed.’

“A few moments after the separation, a fireman who was below getting up steam reported that the vessel was leaking badly. Upon examination it was found that the water was pouring in so rapidly that it was feared that the fires would be put out before steam could be raised to work the pumps.

“All hands were immediately ordered to the large deck pumps, and a few pails of hot water started the four pumps. The captain called out, ‘Work for your lives, boys,’ and the crew set to work with a will. In spite of their utmost efforts, the leak still gained upon them. The engineers and firemen were urged to their utmost. Everything of a combustible character, including seal blubber, was thrown upon the fire, and at the end of an hour and ten minutes of the severest labor, the steam pumps were at last in working order. Nor was this a moment too soon, for at the moment the pumps began to work, the water was lapping over the floor of the fire-room.”

Captain Buddington awaited a favourable opportunity to beach the Polaris, and this was accomplished a few days later near Life-Boat Cove, where a comfortable house was built of the vessel for the winter.

Some Eskimos rendered them considerable assistance, and received suitable gifts in return.

“We have taken stock of our ammunition,” writes Captain Buddington in his journal, “and find that we can avail ourselves of about eight pounds of powder, which some of the men had stored away in their chests and powder-flasks. This is all we have on board, the powder-can having been also put off on the ice during the fearful night of the 15th; also all our Sharp’s cartridges, except some open (loose) ones which were found amongst the men’s things. One box of musket-cartridges we have, and plenty of shot and lead; also several shot guns. In fact, we are not altogether as bad off as we first supposed, and the only thing that we are short of is clothing. This, if we cannot get any game, we may feel considerably before spring comes on.”

The Eskimos from Etah made frequent visits, but could give them no information of the lost members of the party. The general opinion with Captain Buddington and his men was that Tyson had been able to effect a landing with his men, somewhere to the south, and that he would probably use his dogs, sleds, and boats to travel up the coast and rejoin the main party.

In the spring of 1873 two boats were carefully constructed from the material of the Polaris, and the party made preparations to reach Upernavik. On June 3, the boats, having been freighted and manned, got under way, and after an exciting journey of two hundred miles were picked up near Cape York by the Scotch whaler Ravenscraig.

One of the boats used on this retreat was brought back to civilization and presented to the Smithsonian Institution at Washington. It was exhibited at the International Exhibition, Philadelphia, May 10, 1876, by the side of Kane’s boat Faith, and formed part of the Arctic Collection furnished for the Centennial by the United States Naval Observatory.

THE HARDSHIP OF THE CREW

To return to the nineteen souls adrift on the ice-floe; of the moment of parting from the Polaris, Captain Tyson writes:—

“The ice exploded and broke in many places, and the ship broke away in the darkness, and we lost sight of her in a moment.

“Gone!

But an ice-bound horror

Seemed to cling to air.

“It was snowing at the time also; it was a terrible night. On the 15th of, October it may be said that the Arctic night commences; but in addition to this the wind was blowing strong from the south-east; it was snowing and drifting, and was fearfully dark; and the wind was exceedingly heavy, and so bad was the snow and sleet that one could not even look to the windward. We did not know who was on the ice or who was on the ship; but I knew some of the children were on the ice, because almost the last thing I had pulled away from the crushing heel of the ship were some musk-ox skins; they were lying across a wide crack in the ice, and as I pulled them toward me to save them, I saw that there were two or three of Hans’ children rolled up in one of the skins; a slight motion of the ice, and in a moment more they would either have been in the water and drowned in the darkness, or crushed between the ice.

“It was nearly ten o’clock when the ship broke away, and we had been at work since six; the time seemed long, for we were working all the time. Hannah was working, but I did not see Joe or Hans. We worked till we could scarcely stand. They were throwing things constantly over to us till the vessel parted.

“Some of the men were on small pieces of ice. I took the ‘little donkey’—a small scow—and went for them; but the scow was almost instantly swamped; then I shoved off one of the whale-boats, and took off what men I could see, and some of the men took the other boat and helped their companions, so that we were all on firm ice at last.

“We did not dare to move about much after that, for we could not see the size of the ice we were on, on account of the storm and darkness. All the rest but myself, the men, women and children, sought what shelter they could from the storm by wrapping themselves in the musk-ox skins, and so laid down to rest. I alone walked the floe all night.”

The following morning an inventory was taken of the stores on the floe, and they were found to be: fourteen cans of pemmican, eleven and a half bags of bread, one can of dried apples, and fourteen hams. “If the ship did not come for us,” writes Tyson, “we might have to support ourselves all winter, or die of starvation. Fortunately, we had the boats.”

Captain Tyson made an effort to reach Little Island, in order to secure the assistance of the Eskimos living in the neighbourhood in procuring food and shelter for his party during the winter. This he was unable to accomplish, and soon after the Polaris was seen rounding a point. Signals were made by hoisting the colours and showing an India-rubber cloth, but neither the signals nor the men were seen by the Polaris.

Another futile attempt was made to attract the attention of those on the ship, and Captain Tyson endeavoured to launch the boats and reach her, but without success. Gales now forced the floe out of sight of the ship, and the forlorn men set to work to make the best of a desperate situation.

By late November, the effects of exposure and want of food began to show themselves; some of the men trembled when they tried to walk; the children often cried with hunger, although all was given to them that could possibly be spared. The seals brought in were received with gratitude; the invaluable success of Joe and Hans was fully appreciated; without them, the chances of life would have been very much diminished. So keen had the appetites of the party become that the seal-meat was eaten uncooked with the skin and hair on.

December 25, Captain Tyson records:—

“Our Christmas dinner was gorgeous. We had each a small piece of frozen ham, two whole biscuits of hard bread, a few mouthfuls of dried apples, and also a few swallows of seal’s blood! The last of the ham, the last of the apples, and the last of our present supply of seal’s blood! So ends our Christmas feast!”

“New Year’s dinner. I have dined to-day on about two feet of frozen entrails and a little blubber; and I only wish we had plenty even of that, but we have not.”

On January 23, 1873, Captain Tyson makes the following observation:—

“I was thinking the other evening how strange it would sound to hear a good hearty laugh; but I think there never was a party so destitute of every element of merriment as this. I cannot remember ever having seen a smile on the countenance of any one on this floe, except when Herron came out of his hut and saw the sun shining for the first time.”

The months of February and March passed dismally enough, with varying fortune with the hunters. Toward the end of March, the condition of the party was growing rapidly worse. On March 3, Joe shot a monster oogjook—a large kind of seal.

It was, indeed, a great deliverance to those who had been reduced to one meal of a few ounces a day.

“Hannah had but two small pieces of blubber left,” continues Captain Tyson, “enough for the lamp for two days; the men had but little, and Hans had only enough for one day—and now, just on the verge of absolute destitution, comes along this monstrous oogjook, the only one of the seal species seen to-day; and the fellow, I have no doubt, weighs six or seven hundred pounds, and will furnish, I should think, thirty gallons of oil. Truly we are rich indeed!”

“April 1st. We have been the ‘fools of fortune’ now for five months and a half.”

On this day it was found necessary to abandon the floe, which had now become wasted to such an extent that it was no longer safe; at 8 A.M., therefore, the party took to their boat. This boat, intended to carry six or eight men, was crowded with twelve men, two women, and five children, with the tent and skins and some provisions. There was so little room that it was difficult to handle the oars and yoke-ropes. After making fifteen or twenty miles to the south and west in the pack, a landing was effected, the tent pitched with the intention of remaining all night. For the next twenty-eight days the party advanced to the south by boat, camping upon the ice at night, undergoing the most perilous hardships from the upheavals of the ice, through gales and storms.

THE RESCUE AND RETURN TO UNITED STATES

At 4:30 P.M. of April 28, a steamer hove in sight, right ahead, and at one time appeared to be bearing down upon the boat. The American colours were hoisted, and the boat pulled for her. She was recognized as a sealer returning southwest, and apparently working through the ice. For a few moments the hearts of the shipwrecked party were thrilled with joy, but the steamer failed to see them, and night coming on, she soon disappeared. That night the boat was again hauled upon the ice and fires lighted to attract the attention of passing vessels.

At daylight, a steamer was seen eight miles off. The boat was launched and headed for the ship,—but after two hours’ pulling, she was so beset by ice that she could make no headway. The party landed on a small piece of ice, hoisted their colours, mounted the highest point of the floe, collected all the rifles and pistols, and fired them together to attract attention. After three rounds, the steamer fired three shots, and, changing her course, headed toward the floe. The party gave a shout of delight, but soon after the steamer again changed her course, and steamed away.

“Again in the morning of the 30th, when the fog opened, a steamer was seen close to the floe; the guns were fired, the colors were set on the boat’s mast, and loud shouts were uttered. Hans shoved off in his kayak, of his own accord, to intercept her, if possible; the morning was foggy, but the steamer’s head soon turned towards them and in a few moments, she was alongside of the floe.”

The three cheers given by the shipwrecked people were returned by a hundred men on deck and aloft. The vessel proved to be the barkentine Tigress, sealer, Captain Bartlett, of Conception Bay, Newfoundland. Her small seal boats were very soon in the water; but the shipwrecked party did not wait for them. They threw everything out of their own boat, launched her, and in a few moments were on board the Tigress, where they became objects of extreme curiosity, as well as of the most devoted attention. When the time during which they had been on the ice was mentioned, they were regarded with astonishment, and warmly congratulated upon their miraculous escape. They were picked up in latitude 53° 35´ N., off Grady Harbor, Labrador.

Thus ended one of the most remarkable escapes on record. For five months the little band of shipwrecked men and women had drifted at the mercy of the Arctic ice-pack, a distance of 1300 miles.