CHAPTER XL.
THE "POLARIS."
WE have seen that Mr. Hall's enthusiasm for arctic research was unabated when he returned from his first adventure. In 1864 he was off again. He sailed from New London in the whaler "Monticello," accompanied by his Esquimo friends, Ebierbing and Tookoolito. The "Monticello" entered Hudson Bay, landed the daring explorers on its northern shores, and left them to their fortunes. From thence they made the long, dreary journey to King William's Land, where the relics of Franklin's party had been found, some of whom Hall hoped to find alive. For five years he lived an Esquimo life, experiencing many thrilling adventures, and escaping many imminent dangers. At one time he saved his own life only by shooting an assailant who was leading against him a party who had conspired to murder him. The result of his long sojourn in this region of cold was a store of knowledge of the Esquimo habits and language, but nothing important relating to the fate of the Franklin expedition. Many sad confirmations were indeed found of the fact before generally accepted, that they had all miserably perished.
On his return, Mr. Hall, nothing daunted by hardships and failures, commenced writing and lecturing on the theory of an open Polar Sea. As he had done before, so now he succeeded in impressing not only the popular mind but scientific men and statesmen with the plausibility of his theory and the practicability of his plans. Another North Pole expedition was proposed; Congress appropriated to it fifty thousand dollars, and Mr. Hall was appointed its commander. A craft of about four hundred tons, being larger than either of its predecessors on the same errand, was selected, and named the "Polaris." She was a screw-propeller, and rigged as a fore-topsail schooner. Her sides were covered with a six-inch white oak planking, nearly doubling their strength. Her bows were nearly solid white oak, made sharp, and sheathed with iron. One of her boilers was fitted for the use of whale or seal oil, by which steam could be raised if the coal was exhausted. She was supplied with five extraordinary boats. One of these must have been the last Yankee invention in the boat line. It is represented as having a capacity to carry twenty-five men, yet weighing only two hundred and fifty pounds; when not in use it could be folded up and packed snugly away. The "Polaris" was, of course, amply equipped and ably manned, and great and useful results were expected from her. President Grant is said to have entered with interest into this enterprise of Captain Hall, and the nation said, "God bless him and his perilous undertaking!" though many doubted the wisdom of any more Arctic expeditions. A few days before his departure Mr. Hall received from the hand of his friend, Henry Grinnell, a flag of historic note. It had fluttered in the wind near the South Pole with Lieutenant Wilkes, in 1838; had been borne by De Haven far northward; it had gone beyond De Haven's highest in the Kane voyage, and was planted still farther North Poleward by Hayes. "I believe," exclaimed Captain Hall, on receiving it, "that this flag, in the spring of 1872, will float over a new world, in which the North Pole star is its crowning jewel."
The "Polaris" left New York June 29, 1871, tarried for a few days at New London, and was last heard from as she was ready to steam northward, the last of August, from Tussuissak, the most northern of the Greenland outposts. At this place Captain Hall met our old acquaintance, Jensen, of the Hayes expedition. He was flourishing as "governor" of a few humble huts occupied by a few humbler people, and he put on consequential airs in the presence of his white brother. He would not be a dog-driver again to an Arctic exploration—not he! Hall says he had "a face of brass in charging for his dogs." But the full complement of sixty was made up here, and his stock of furs was increased.
As our voyagers are now about to enter upon the terribly earnest conflicts of North Pole explorers, and as their complement of men and women are complete, we will further introduce them to our readers.
The commander, Hall, they know; he is well-proportioned, muscular, of medium height, quiet, but completely enthusiastic in his chosen line of duty, believing thoroughly in himself and his enterprise, yet believing well too easily of others, especially of the rough men of his command, some of whom have grown up under the harsh discipline of the whale-ship or the naval service. The next in command is the sailing-master, Captain S. O. Buddington of our last narrative. Captain Tyson, commissioned as assistant navigator to the expedition, has been introduced to the reader at Frobisher Bay, while in command there of a whale-ship. We shall have occasion to become very intimate with him. Here is our old acquaintance, William Morton, whom we knew so favorably by his heroic deeds in the Dr. Kane expedition; he is second mate now.
Of course, Captain Hall's old friends of his first and second Arctic experience, Ebierbing and Tookoolito, his wife, are here. They are now known as Joe and Hannah, and although it does some violence to our taste to drop their Esquimo names, we will conform to the usage about us, and know them in this narrative by these English names. They are accompanied by an adopted daughter from among their people, about ten years old, whom they call Puney.
Captain Buddington.
And here, too, is our old friend Hans, taken on board at Upernavik. Having been with Kane and Hayes, nothing daunted by the perils of their voyages, he is here to see, if possible, with Hall, the North Pole, though no doubt thinking much more of his twenty-five dollars a month as hunter and dog-driver than of the desired discoveries. His wife and their three children are with him, for, like a good husband and father, he would not be separated from his family. The children are Augustina, a girl about thirteen years, heavy built, and most as large as her mother; Tobias, a boy of perhaps eight, and a little girl, Succi, of four years. Think of such a group daring the known and unknown perils of Arctic ice and cold!
With the rest of the ship's company we shall form acquaintance as our narrative progresses.
On the twenty-fourth of August the "Polaris" left Tussuissak, and fairly began her Arctic fight in the ice, current, and wind encounters of Melville Bay. But on she steamed, passing in a few days through the Bay into the North Water, into Smith Sound, passing Hayes's winter-quarters, yet steaming on by Dr. Kane's winter-quarters, not even pausing to salute our old friends Kalutunah and Myouk, sailing up the west side of Kennedy Channel, the scene of Dr. Hayes's conflicts and heroic achievements, the "Polaris" finally brings up in the ice barriers of north latitude 82° 16´. The highest points of previous voyages in this direction are far south. That new world of which the North Pole star is "the crowning jewel," is less than six hundred miles farther. If that open sea located in this latitude by confident explorers was only a fact, how easily and how soon would the brave "Polaris" be there! But the ice-floe, strong and defiant, and the southern current, were facts, and the open sea nowhere visible. The "Polaris" was taken in hand by the ice and current in the historic, Arctic fashion, and set back about fifty miles. The Ice King had said, "Thus far and no farther," and pointed with his frosty fingers southward.
The "Polaris" early in September was glad to steam in under the land, anchor to an iceberg, and make her winter-quarters. Captain Hall called the harbor "Thank-God Harbor," and the friendly anchorage "Providence Berg." He had a right here now, for a little farther north, at a place he called "Repulse Harbor," he went ashore, threw the stripes and stars to the breeze, and took possession of the land "in the name of God and the President of the United States." We shall not expect to hear that a territorial representative from this land enters the next Congress. If this part of our national domain has a representative in the life-time of our distinguished acquaintance, Kalutunah, we nominate him for the position, as one of the nearest known inhabitants.
Now commenced in earnest preparations for an Arctic winter. We have seen how this is done, and Hall and some, at least, of his officers knew how to do it. The hunters were abroad at once, and an early prize was a musk-ox weighing three hundred pounds. His meat was tender and good, having no musky odor. This was but the beginning of the good gunning afforded by this far northern region. Two seals were soon after shot. The country was found to abound in these, and in geese, ducks, rabbits, wolves, foxes, partridges, and bears. The scurvy was not likely to venture near our explorers.
A pleasant incident occurred on shipboard about this time which the reader will better appreciate as our story progresses. It was September twenty-fourth. The Sabbath religious service of the preceding day had been conducted by Chaplain Bryant in his usual happy manner. At its close Commander Hall made some kind, earnest remarks to the men by which their rough natures were made tender, and they sent a letter from the forecastle to the cabin expressing to him their thanks. To this he replied in the following note:—
"Sirs: The reception of your letter of thanks to me of this date I acknowledge with a heart that deeply feels and fully appreciates the kindly feeling that has prompted you to this act. I need not assure you that your commander has, and ever will have, a lively interest in your welfare. You have left your homes, friends, and country; indeed, you have bid farewell for a time to the whole civilized world, for the purpose of aiding me in discovering the mysterious, hidden parts of the earth. I therefore must and shall care for you as a prudent father cares for his faithful children."
October tenth, after careful preparation, Captain Hall started northward on an experiment in the way of sledging. He purposed more extended sledge journeys in the spring, until the Pole itself should be reached. He took two sledges, drawn by seven dogs each. Captain Hall and Joe accompanied one, and Mr. Chester, the mate, and Hans, the other. Their experience on this trip was simply of the Arctic kind, of which we have seen so much. Deep snows, treacherous ice, which was in a state of change by the action of winds and currents, intense cold, and vexed and vicious dogs, all put in their appearance. But Captain Hall says, "These drawbacks are nothing new to an Arctic traveler. We laugh at them, and plod on determined to execute the service faithfully to the end." The sledge expedition was gone two weeks, and traveled north fifty miles. They discovered a lake and a river. They came to the southern cape of a bay which they had seen from the "Polaris" in her drift from above. They named the bay Newman Bay, and attached Senator Sumner's name to the cape. From the top of an iceberg they surveyed the bay, and believed it extended inland thirty miles. Crossing the mouth of the bay they clambered up its high northern cape, which they called Brevoort. Here they looked westward over the waters up which a good distance past this point the "Polaris" had sailed, and which they had named Robeson Strait. They peered longingly into the misty distance, and fondly hoped to penetrate it with sledge or steamer in the spring. Joe, the architect of the journey, built here their sixth snow-hut. It was warmer than at Thank-God Harbor, and birds, musk-oxen, foxes, and rabbits, were seen, and bear and wolf tracks were in the vicinity. Captain Hall was joyous at the future prospect. He wrote a dispatch from this high latitude in which he says, "We have all been well up to this time." A copy of it was placed in a copper cylinder and buried under a pile of stones. The party turned their faces homeward; Captain Hall's Arctic explorations were ended.