1848.
Staff appointments—Survey of London—Colour-sergeant Smith—Sergeant Bay—Trigonometrical operations—Opposition to the military survey—Observatory above St. Paul’s; the scaffolding—Privates Pemble and Porteous—Sergeant Steel—Industry and conduct of the Sappers in the Metropolitan survey—Preliminary arrangements of the Arctic expedition—Privates Waddell and Sulter—Corporal Mackie—Expedition starts; corporal McLaren—Coasting journeys and services—Overland march—Winter at Fort Confidence—Party detached to Great Bear Lake—Close of the search for Sir John Franklin and his crews.
Sergeant-major Jenkin Jones was commissioned to be quartermaster to the corps on the 11th January, 1848, vice Hilton retired. These pages amply testify to the merits of Mr. Jones. A more indefatigable non-commissioned officer never served his country, nor one more worthy of the honours conferred upon him. Colour-sergeant Michael Bradford, a good soldier and foreman, succeeded him as sergeant-major at Woolwich.
With a view to establish a system for the sanitary improvement of the drainage of London, a survey of the metropolis, under the auspices of the Commissioners of Sewers, was commenced in January, 1848, and continued with a fluctuating detachment—once as many as forty-three strong, and as few as two men only—until January, 1850. Captain Yolland, R.E., had the direction of the work, and colour-sergeant Joseph Smith[[1]] was first appointed to the executive charge, but he being soon afterwards discharged, it then fell upon sergeant Andrew Bay,[[2]] sergeant Doherty, and others. With this survey was connected the determination of the relative levels of all parts of London.
The great triangulation was the first point attended to. “That wonderful specimen of skill, the scaffolding on and around the cross of St. Paul’s, put up in the spring, was the main station for observations. The summits of Primrose and other hills, the towers,” steeples, “and roofs of churches, the parapets or terraces of public buildings or houses,” were made “available as the sites for signal-staffs, visible from each other and from St. Paul’s.”[[3]] By these observations, “the relative angular positions” of the several points were obtained, from which, as the bases of the work, a detailed survey was made, embracing not only the principal streets and squares, but the minutiæ of alleys and single buildings. Of every street the slope or ascent was ascertained, and also the exact height of every spot above the assumed datum or base-line.[[4]] The benchmarks to show the permanent points of the survey and levels were cut in stone, or on the most prominent objects, by the sappers, who, though not brought up to that work, became very expert in the use of the mallet and chisel. At least twelve parties with twelve-inch instruments were scattered to the most conspicuous places in the metropolis and its vicinage, to complete the observations; and sergeant James Donelan, with the great three-feet instrument, visited some of the old stations celebrated by the labours of General Roy and other officers, to check the smaller triangles formed by the operation of the twelve-inch instruments. Some of those stations were at Hanger’s Hill near Twyford, Banstead Downs, Severndroog Castle on Shooter’s Hill, &c. The survey, including the city, extended to a distance of eight miles in every direction from St. Paul’s.[[5]]
London was unaccustomed to see soldiers employed in so important a work as the metropolitan survey, and much excitement was caused by their unobtrusive and peaceful operations. The jealousy of a class of surveyors was at once called into angry activity, and under the name of the “Associated Civil Surveyors,” they formed themselves into a body, and opposed by meeting, petition, and remonstrance, the continuance of the sappers on the duty.[[6]] The Metropolitan Commissioners did the Association the honour calmly to investigate their grievance; but from the lucid and truthful statements of Mr. Edwin Chadwick and others, the continuance of the sappers on the duty was confirmed and justified, not only on the score of competency, but of policy, from the disciplined experience of the men, and the perfection of the Ordnance system of responsibility and resource.[[7]]
The particular objects which elicited from the public the most attention were the observatories on the summit of the north-west tower of Westminster Abbey, and above the cross of St. Paul’s. The latter, from the dexterity with which the construction of the cradle at that dizzy height was pursued, supported only by the architectural ornaments of the structure, excited much curiosity and wonder. The scaffolding was of rough poles; the stage, ten feet square, formed of planks, which supported the observatory, rested on the golden gallery on the top of the great cone. “The four lower posts, twenty-nine feet long, stood upon short planks bedded on the stone footway; and the top supported the angles of four horizontal planks, each twenty-three feet long, bolted together at the angles. From these planks a screen of boards was erected to prevent materials, &c., from falling. The base of the four upper posts, fifty-three feet long, rested on the angles of the above planks; and the scaffold, in addition to these posts, consisted of four sets of horizontal and four sets of transverse, braces on each of the four sides, the whole being fastened together with spikes and ropes. Fifty-six of the uprights were double poles, placed base and point, and bound together with hoop iron and wedges, and with bolts and hoop iron at the splices. The height from base to floor was eighty-two feet, and to the extreme top of the observatory, ninety-two feet.”[[8]] A railing, roughly but securely put up, surrounded the “crow’s-nest.” “The ascent was by the inside of the tower or lantern to the circular openings, then to the outside of the foot-ladders set at the north-east corner, parallel to the north-east principal post inside the scaffold. The whole of the materials were drawn up from the floor by a permanent windlass erected in the tower, to the golden gallery, and thence passed to the outside, horizontally, through an aperture thirty-two inches wide, and finally were drawn up and put into position by purchase erected for the purpose.”[[9]] The whole construction weighed about five tons, and though designed by sergeant James Steel, was erected by sergeant James Beaton, the most successful builder of these aerial fabrics, assisted by privates Richard Pemble and John Porteous,[[10]] and some civil labourers, under the direction of Captain Yolland.[[11]] The time occupied in going up the ladder was about seven minutes, but the descent required only four or five.[[12]] On the 2nd November the last piece of the scaffolding was removed and carted away. In the hazardous and intricate operations of building and dismantling it, not the slightest accident to human life or limb—not even the breaking of a single pane of glass—occurred.[[13]]
The observations were taken by sergeant James Steel with an eighteen-inch theodolite, both at Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s. When not prevented by haze, the sergeant attended to his duty, frequently when the breeze shook his small location to a perilous degree, with a coolness, perseverance, and accuracy that were highly praiseworthy. Sometimes he and his assistant sapper—private John Wotherspoon[[14]]—ascended to the observatory at St. Paul’s as often as three times a-day, and this carried through a period of four months—between the 17th June and 16th October—with unflinching resolution and assiduity, made the sergeant and the sappers objects of much interest and of curious and anxious inquiry. The observations taken from this height comprised between 8,000 and 10,000. In many instances the same subject was gone over as many as six times, none less than three or four, and the utmost distance obtained was twenty-six miles.[[15]] The points thus trigonometrically fixed were 2,140, a vast number being church towers, spires, conspicuous public buildings, and manufactories.
To carry on the survey during the day in crowded streets, with an unbroken stream of vehicles in double transit, was an extremely difficult and irksome operation; but to be free as much as possible from this interruption, the sappers went to work every morning as soon as day broke, and pushed the survey while the metropolis was still at rest. The survey was completed in January, 1850, and the mapping finished at Southampton. For the merit and talent with which the work was conducted, the periodical press frequently expressed its admiration; and Sir Henry de la Beche and Mr. Edwin Chadwick—two of the Commissioners of the highest authority—praised the survey as being one of extreme success.[[16]] At another time the former gentleman observed at a special court of the Commissioners, that “the Ordnance undertook the work of the surface. A triangulation of no common order, but such as they might have expected from that distinguished service, was undertaken and executed; and upon that triangulation was founded a block plan of extreme efficiency and completeness; and it was also no common map, for it always had reference to that great triangulation to which he had already referred.”[[17]]
The arctic expedition, which halted in October, 1847, for the winter, detached in the spring of 1848 a party of sappers to Cedar Lake to repair the boats, first cutting the wood for the purpose. When this preliminary service was accomplished, six of the party were selected to drag three planks each to Cedar Lake. Each man took with him ten days’ provisions; but from the weary labour and fatigue of carrying such heavy burdens, and the snow-blindness that affected the men, the journey was not completed under sixteen days. The party consequently suffered great privation. After the boats were made thoroughly seaworthy, the sappers brought them and the stores up to Cumberland House on the first opening of the Saskatchewan.[[18]]
Privates James Waddell and John Sulter afterwards started from Cumberland House without a guide, considering the half-disclosed tracts of a previous party to be sufficient for their purpose. They were going to Cedar Lake. At Point Partridge, however, the snow having fallen heavily, the track was missed and they lost their way. For several days they continued to travel, and were wholly without food for more than seventy-two hours. Hunger pressed them to resort to expedients to mitigate their cravings. In this extremity Waddell, who had a spare pair of mocassins and a morsel of buffalo grease, consigned both to the canteen. When boiled, the old boots were speedily devoured, and the soup equally divided among the famished adventurers, formed a novel but refreshing repast. Onwards the party went, winding through the woods and trending through the deep snow, when after a journey of about four miles they gained an Indian encampment, where the natives provided them with musk-rats to eat, and one of their number guided them to the lake.
It is right also to record another little adventure in which lance-corporal Robert Mackie was the actor. He strayed in the winter on Cedar Lake. Overpowered by exertion and weariness he laid down on his planks and fell asleep. When he awoke two of his toes were frozen. Nothing dismayed by this untoward affliction, he started off to seek a retreat from his difficulties. A native sent to search for him, found the wanderer “contentedly steering for the moon, which being near the horizon and gleaming red through the forest, was mistaken by him for the fire of the men’s bivouac. The snow which covered the ground at the time fortunately enabled the Indian who went in pursuit of him to trace his steps before he had gone many miles.”[[19]]
Reinforced by the party from Cedar Lake, the expedition started in May, 1848, from Cumberland House, with boats fully laden, leaving two sappers behind “who were unequal to the labours of the voyage.” One had received an injury in the hand by which he lost a joint of one of his fingers, and the other suffered from scurvy and pains in the bones. Both were sent to England by the first conveyance after their arrival at York Factory; and the expedition thus lost the services of second-corporal James McLaren, a man of enlarged intelligence and experience, and active zeal.
Very prosperously the expedition now moved on, crossing rivers, lakes, and streams, pulling the boats over difficult and rugged portages, and bearing heavy burdens. For three days they were delayed by ice in Beaver Lake, and then pressing on anew, tracked the course to Methy Lake, where on the 27th June, Sir John Richardson reached his men. They had encamped at the landing-place the previous day, and were advanced one stage of different lengths according to the physical capabilities of the respective individuals. “On visiting the men, Sir John found two of the sappers lame from the fatigue of crossing the numerous carrying places on Churchill River, and unfit for any labour on the long Methy portage.”[[20]]
The baggage, which it was indispensable to carry with the expedition, was equally distributed, which gave to each man a burden of 450lbs., exclusive of his clothing and bedding, all of which he shouldered over the portages in three or more trips according to the measure of his strength. This was an enormous load, and was borne day after day under constantly-varying circumstances of trial and fatigue. The boats with their masts, sails, anchors, &c., were also carried by the whole party at every portage.[[21]]
“On the 3rd July the baggage and the boats were brought to the banks of the Little Lake; and on the 6th, everything having been taken over to Clear-water River, the expedition descended from the Cockscomb, where they had been encamped for two days,” and in nine days more completed the laborious passage of the Methy portage. “The transport of the four boats was made on the men’s shoulders, and occupied two days and a half.”[[22]]
On the 7th two of the boats were broken in crossing the portage of the woods, but, being repaired with some dexterity by the sappers, they were ready for proceeding the following morning. Athabasca Lake was entered on the 11th July, but two of the boats taking a more easterly branch of the river in the night, delayed the arrival at Fort Chipewyan. In the misguided craft were the chief artificers of the sappers, and the accident prevented the boats being completely repaired and furnished with false keels, to contend with the difficulties inseparable from adventure. All leaks, however, were stopped, and some damaged planks replaced, which enabled the party to start again on the 12th July.[[23]]
Many days were now spent in effecting the clearance of numerous portages over broken and rocky prominences, and driving on through narrow and tortuous channels made picturesque by the presence of frosted cascades, dashing over ledges, or rushing past blocks of trees and drift timber—the accumulation of ages. A boat was upset in one of the portages by lowering it down a narrow channel, when several articles of marine importance were lost or damaged, among which were the indispensable oars, which, however, were soon replaced by the assiduity of the sappers. Fort Resolution was gained on the 17th July, from which, by rapid marches, laboured boat journeys, and toilsome industry, they made, on the 24th, the first range of the Rocky Mountains. Hurried stages, through intricate courses and over rocky chasms, with gales blowing and heavy rains falling, brought them on the 2nd August to Point Encounter, where they encamped for the night; and on the 3rd they reached the estuary of the Mackenzie River, where a horde of Esquimaux visited the boats. The interview on the part of the natives was characterised by a spirit of intrigue and hostility, but terminated without serious consequences; and, striking out from the shore, the boats pushed on to Copland Hutchison Inlet, Cape Bathurst, Point Deas Thomson, and Cape Young, where the expedition went ashore to repair the boats, which had been rendered unseaworthy by the ice tearing the planks into leaks. The damage was repaired by the sappers in the evening.
Near Point Cockburn, on the 22nd August, a storm overtook the party. The sky was dark and lowering, heavy showers fell, and a waterspout was seen on shore. Sir John Richardson thus alludes to it. “Ice-floes lying close off Cape Hope caused us no little trouble, the passages among them being very intricate, and the perpendicular walls of the masses being too high to allow of landing or seeing over them. In the afternoon we passed Cape Bexley, running before a stiff breeze, and at 5 P.M. a storm suddenly coming on we were compelled to reduce our canvas to the goosewing of the mainsail, under which we scudded for an hour, and then entering among large masses of ice, about two miles from Point Cockburn, found shelter under some pieces that had grounded.” To encamp was impracticable, for the shore was flat, and they passed a bitter night in the open boats. “The ice-cold sea-water chilled the men as they waded to and fro;” and, as the wind was too strong to admit of the employment of any expedient to shelter or warm them, no protection could be afforded against the biting bleakness of the storm.[[24]]
On the 26th August the expedition was at Lambert Island. A frosty night covered the sea and ponds with young ice, and glued all the floes immoveably together so that the rise of the tide was no longer of service. “Assisted by the seamen, the sappers launched the boats and carried the cargo ashore, devoting the greater part of the day to the operation of cutting through tongues of ice, dragging the boats over the floes, moving large stones” that intersected the route, and resorting to every conceivable expedient to make progress. Two more rugged portages were also crossed; and in that day of severe toil and unremitted zeal a journey of five miles only was accomplished. Heavy snow-storms now succeeded, the cold became intense, and the surface of the pools of sea-water was converted into a consistency like paste, which demanded great physical exertion in pushing on the boats. On the 28th, three hours were spent in moving forward an inconsiderable distance—about one hundred yards—owing to the benumbing coldness paralysing the physical energies of the men.[[25]]
With little incentive to spirit and none to amusement, save what the incidents of arctic travel were calculated to produce, the men relaxed no effort, and avoided no danger, in their endeavour to achieve the great purpose of the enterprise. Against obstacles both by land and sea, from wind and storm, they bore an undismayed front, and, driving on day by day, they gained Basil Hall Bay, and encamped about eight miles from Cape Kendall. In dragging the boats over the floes in these parts they were greatly shattered, the planks being torn and broken, although they had been strengthened by the sappers “on the water-line with sheets of tin beat out from the pemican cases.”[[26]]
Here terminated the coasting voyage, some distance from the Coppermine River, on account of the ice having, from the severity of the weather, become too thick and firm to admit the continuance of the ascent, without jeopardising the safety of the expedition, in the few frail boats employed in their along-shore adventures. An overland journey in quest of Sir John Franklin and his missing crews was therefore decided upon, and arrangements for the march were at once entered into. Thirteen days’ provisions were packed up for the party, with cooking utensils, bedding, snow-shoes, fowling-pieces, a portable boat, &c. The burdens were apportioned by lot, each load weighing about 70lbs.[[27]] The boats, tents, stores, &c., that could not be taken on were abandoned on the coast; and on the 3rd September, after breakfast, prayers being read to propitiate guidance and protection from a gracious Providence, the march commenced. With few exceptions, the men trudged on with so indifferent a pace, that to keep up they lightened their loads by leaving their carbines behind. About seven-miles from Cape Kendall a halt was made, and the men slept at night in the cold air, under the miserable shelter of some towering blocks of basalt 200 feet high. Private Donald Fraser this day sprained his knee, and on the next he was so unfit for his task that his burden was eased by throwing away his large hatchet, and distributing, for carriage, a portion of his pemican among the other travellers. Several of the men straggled and made but slow progress. Rae’s and Richardson’s Rivers being crossed—the latter by a portable boat fastened to a hawser—the expedition reached, on the 5th September, the Coppermine River and bivouacked about three miles above a dreary spot bearing the tragic designation of the Bloody Fall.[[28]]
On the 6th the weather was clear, with a hard frost, but the sun, which had been a stranger for more than a fortnight, now shone brilliantly. Generally the party walked briskly, protected in some degree from frostbite by an addition to their cumbersome apparel of warm seal-skin boots; “but three of the seamen and two of the sappers and miners were so lame it was necessary to make long and frequent halts to allow them to close in;” so much so, that they “were unable to accomplish two geographical miles in the hour.” To give respite to their sufferings and time to gather strength, a camp was formed which greatly refreshed them; and next day they resumed the march in the face of a snowstorm, heightened by a piercing northerly wind.[[29]] Two rapid torrents, full of boulders, were forded in the course of the day’s journey, and “the discomfort of the march was greatly augmented by the men’s clothes, which had been saturated in crossing the streams, freezing on their backs.” In the vicinity of some narrow lakes by the side of a cluster of low, naked, but wide spreading spruce trees the expedition encamped, and here, as in other places, they arranged a “bivouac by placing small branches between the frozen ground and their blankets.” The following day found them resting near the Copper Mountains, crossing which, they walked onwards in snow-shoes, not without much difficulty and fatigue; and those of the travellers who lagged were assisted on their way by easing them “of everything but their blankets, spare clothing, and a few pounds of pemican.”[[30]]
The Kendall River was crossed on the 11th by a raft made on the spot of dry timber assisted by the sappers. It supported in its transit three at a time. A fresh disposition of the burdens was made here, and the carriage of some books and dried plants relinquished. The log raft was also broken up to recover the cordage by which the timbers were lashed together. This done the course of the party was shaped across the country for Dease’s River. They started in a fog, which became denser as they proceeded, so that at length an object three yards in advance could not be seen. The compass was necessarily used to steer by; all wended onwards in Indian file, and though the pace was brisk none fell back. The lakes which barred their way had a dreary aspect, for they were not seen until the travellers “came suddenly to the brink of the rocks which bounded them, when the contrast of the dark surface of their waters with the unbroken snow of their borders, combined with the loss of all definite outline in the fog, caused them to resemble hideous pits sinking to an unknown depth.” The intersection of their track by these lakes was very hazardous, and it was a wonder none of the straggling explorers fell into the abysses and met their fate. At night they spread their blankets on an isolated rock, and without supper, or the cheering gleams of a fire to give solace to their spirits, sought to snatch some repose. Snow fell on their exposed bodies as they lay. Many groaned bitterly with pain, and but few could sleep. Next morning, however, all were early afoot, and before the day fairly opened, they had marched three hours, and forded, up to their waists, a tributary of the Kendall, by which they “were all more or less benumbed.”[[31]]
In a country like the arctic region much is uncertain, and extremes may be experienced with almost incredible rapidity. Here a supperless night was succeeded by one which gave a sumptuous meal of venison, and a sound night’s rest in a snug encampment. With light loads, full stomachs, and a long halt in prospect, the spirits of the party received a barometrical rise that indicated alike their satisfaction and cheerfulness. Hill after hill they mounted; and traversed, with unusual alacrity and ardour, stretches of undulated country. Now they were wading through a swamp, now trending a rough hummocky tract of land, now scaling a difficult height, and then forcing across an expanse of deep snow. The journey was trying and harassing, and each night, the party, jaded, lame and footsore, sought repose in open bivouac; but on the morning of the 15th of September, after fording the Dease, the travellers arrived at Fort Confidence—the haven appointed to recruit their wasted energies, and to shelter them from the storms and tempests of the coming winter. The overland journey had occupied thirteen days.
Three days subsequently, Sir John Richardson, finding he could dispense with the services of eighteen persons, sent them on to the fishery location of Big Island on Great Slave Lake. Ten of the detached party were sappers, leaving only three of the corps with the chief, viz: lance-corporals James Mitchell and Robert Mackie, and private David Brodie. The two latter fitted up the meagre establishment with tables and chairs, and such other social commodities as were considered to be requisite to give the fort a character of domestication, and to afford facilities of comfort to the adventurers. The fort was about three miles from the mouth of the Dease River and near to Fishery Island.
As far as the European contingent was concerned, the expedition was brought to a close; and the search, prosecuted under very trying circumstances, amid perils, hardships, and want, failed to discover any trace of the whereabouts of Sir John Franklin and his crews. The shores of Wollaston and Victoria could not be examined as had originally been intended, as Sir John Richardson had no means of carrying out the project, his craft having, unavoidably, been abandoned in September, 1848. With the only boat, however, taken up to Fort Confidence, Mr. Rae, with a party of natives, essayed unsuccessfully to pass to Wollaston land. Had this been achieved, a defined clue, in all probability, would have been presented to the track of the missing adventurers. It was in the vicinity of this region, a few years after, that the mournful relics of the fated explorers, found by some Esquimaux, passed into the possession of Mr. Rae, and confirmed in this country the certainty of the appalling destiny of the expedition.