A fine level promenade had been constructed on the ice, about a mile in length, by sweeping away the snow; and this served as a daily exercise ground. A skating-rink was also constructed. A free hole in the ice, for the sake of better ventilation, was carefully kept up. Whenever it closed, through a process of gradual congelation, the ice-saws were set in motion to open it up again, or it was blasted with gunpowder. The dogs lived on the ice-floe all the winter. It must not be thought that the cold was uniform day after day. Probably it is not the low temperature so much as the variable temperature that makes an Arctic winter so very trying to the European. In a few hours the change would be no less than 60°. The cold reached its height—or depth—in winter, when the thermometer marked 70½° below zero; the greatest cold ever experienced by any Polar expedition. It is difficult for the human frame to bear up against this excess of rigour, even with the help of good fires, good food, and good clothing. Not only the physical but the mental faculties are debilitated and depressed.
Our ice-bound seamen, however, managed to keep Christmas merrily. Early on the day so dear to Christian memories “the waits” went their usual rounds,—a sergeant of marines, the chief boatswain’s mates, and three other volunteers,—singing Christmas carols, and making “a special stay outside the captain’s cabin.” In the forenoon prayers were said on the lower deck; after which the captain and officers visited the men’s mess, tasting the Christmas pudding, and examining the tasteful decorations which had been improvised. Then the gifts which, in anticipation of the day, had been sent out by kindly English hearts, were distributed by the captain,—to each gift the name of the recipient having been previously attached. This was an affecting scene; and hearty, though not without a touch of pathos in them, were the cheers given as the distribution took place; a distribution recalling so many “old familiar faces,” and all the sweet associations and gentle thoughts of home! Cheers were also raised for the captain and men of the far-away Alert. Next, a choir was formed, and echo resounded with the strains of “O the Roast Beef of Old England!” of which, no doubt, many of the singers entertained a very affectionate remembrance. The men dined at twelve and the officers at five, and the day seems in every respect to have been most successful as a festival.
A few particulars of the “situation” may here be given in the chaplain’s own words:—“We had brought fish, beef, and mutton from England,” he says, “all of which we hung up on one of the masts, and it was soon as hard as a brick, and perfectly preserved. We had also brought some sheep from England with us, and they were killed from time to time. When we arrived in Discovery Bay, as we called it, six of them were alive; but on being landed they were worried by the dogs, and had to be slaughtered. During the winter the men had to fetch ice from a berg about half a mile distant from the ship, in order to melt it for fresh water.”
At last the long Arctic night came to an end. It was with emotions of hope and gratitude and joy that the explorers welcomed the first rays of the returning sun on the last day of February. For four months they had lived in obscurity and gloom, with the exception of such relief as the stars and the moon had occasionally afforded. On the day of the sun’s return to the Polar World, it was known that it would rise at about twelve o’clock, and everybody ascended the hills for the purpose of hailing the glorious spectacle. The mists and fogs, however, baffled their expectations; and though they felt its influence, they did not see it for some days after it had mounted above the horizon.
News was brought from the Alert by two officers and two men towards the end of March. They had accomplished the journey with the thermometer at 40° below zero, and had occupied six days in making it. The officers were Lieutenant Rawson and Mr. Egerton, who had started at first in company with Petersen, the interpreter, but had been compelled to return with him, as already narrated, because he was severely frost-bitten. Directly they returned to the Discovery, preparations were made for sending out the sledge-parties. Two officers and three men, with a dog-sledge, started across Robeson Channel to Hall’s Rest, the winter quarters of the Polaris, to report on the stores left by the American vessel, which the United States Government had placed at the disposal of the British expedition. They reappeared on the fifth day, with the information that they had found biscuit, pemmican, preserved meat, molasses, and other articles. They had lived in a wooden observatory that they found erected there. Captain Hall’s grave was in excellent preservation; and they set up a head-board, with an inscription on it, to mark its situation.
Lieutenant Beaumont and Mr. Coppinger, the surgeon, each with an eight-man sledge—or, rather, with seven men besides themselves—started for the Alert, in quest of the other sledge which had wintered with that vessel; their design being to cross Robeson Channel, and explore the North Greenland coast. In this journey, owing to the “hummocky” character of the ice, they spent twelve days.
Two days later, a third party, consisting of a twelve-man sledge and an eight-man sledge, with two officers, proceeded to survey the shores of Lady Franklin Sound. The captain accompanied them in the eight-man sledge, and was absent about a week; but the twelve-man sledge, which had gone merely to carry stores and provisions for the other, did not return for a fortnight, the sledge having been damaged, and one of the marines severely frost-bitten in the heel. The other sledge, after an absence of about four weeks, returned in safety,—having discovered that Lady Franklin Strait, as the Americans call it, was a sound or fiord about sixty miles long. They had fallen in with some musk-oxen, which were too wild to be got at; and had seen three or four glaciers, and hills three thousand feet in height.
About June the warm summer began to assert itself, and in the rays of the sun their icehouses melted away, like the baseless fabric of a vision. So the sledging-party last spoken of adventured across the ice to Polaris Bay, taking with them a life-boat as a precaution (for the ice might at any time have broken up), and a supply of provisions for the use of the North Greenland expedition. This work done, they returned to the ship, leaving behind them two officers and three men, who pushed up Petermann Fiord for about eight miles, until arrested by the impenetrable barrier of a huge glacier.
On returning from their explorations they found that Lieutenant Newsome, with four men, of whom one had died of scurvy on the way, had accidentally separated from the North Greenland party, and reached Petermann Fiord on the 3rd of June. All were seriously ill of scurvy, except Mr. Rawson and a marine. Under Dr. Coppinger’s skill and care, however, they recovered. As soon as possible, the doctor, with Mr. Newsome and the Eskimos, started in a dog-sledge to gather some information about the other members of the North Greenland party. In a day or two they fell in with them; and not too soon, for all were thoroughly exhausted. They had abandoned everything, and when the doctor arrived were without food. Four of them, who were accommodated on the sledge, were broken down with scurvy, and two others had been attacked slightly. What was to be done in this critical position of affairs? At first it was thought advisable to remain on the spot for a while, and see if the Eskimos could shoot a seal. But a day’s experience showed that this plan would not answer; and they then resolved to carry the two worst invalids on the dog-sledge to Hall’s Rest. This was accomplished, and the poor fellows seemed to grow better when nourished by seal-soup and proper food; but on the following morning one of them sank and died. The life of the other hung for some time in the balance. The whole company were now invalided; and Hall’s Rest might fitly have been termed Hall’s Hospital.
A few days—weary, melancholy days—having elapsed, an officer, with a couple of men, was sent across to the ship to report the serious condition of affairs. As it was the end of June, the ice had broken up in many places, and the traject of the strait was not accomplished without difficulty, and frequent immersions in the water. No sooner did Captain Stephenson learn how the party were situated, than he set out, with seven men, to carry a supply of medicines, provisions, and various comforts. They had with them a boat and a sledge on a four-wheeled car, and in this they crossed the land to the margin of the sea, a distance of about six miles. Sometimes the boat was called into requisition to carry themselves and the sledge from floe to floe. With half of the men they returned in a few days, leaving the rest in charge of Lieutenant Beaumont and Dr. Coppinger, until they had made more progress towards recovery.