On the 8th, at 3 A. M., they arrived at Cape Sumner, and, getting through the rubble-ice near the shore, gained the steep snow-slope which lay between the foot of the cliffs and the line of immense floe-bergs along the shore, stranded and pressed close up to the snow-slope. Between the bergs and the slope, the wind had made great gaps, deep and tortuous. The only way to get along was either through these gaps—often like pits—or to take the slope above and run the risk of tumbling down into them, sledge and all, sometimes fifteen or twenty feet. There was often no alternative but the latter. Lockwood expected to find it calm there by reason of the protection of the bluffs, but, on the contrary, the wind came down from above in gusts and whirlwinds, filling the air with eddying columns of snow. When about a mile from the Polaris Boat Camp, they encountered an immense mass of snow entirely filling up the ravine from top to bottom. Leaving the sledge, Lockwood went on to see if he could reach the Boat Camp, but could hardly keep his feet on account of the wind. Returning, he and Frederick made a small hole in the side of a large drift, and, pulling in everything the dogs could possibly eat, prepared to “weather the storm.” By 9 A. M., supper had been eaten in darkness, for they had no candles, and Frederick, wedged close up to him in the frozen sleeping-bag, was snorting away like a steam-engine. Lockwood soon fell asleep too, but woke up to find the sleeping-bag and his footgear and clothes wet with the moisture such close quarters produced. Everything inside was thawing. Soon after, masses of snow falling down through a number of rents in the side and roof of the excavation, he began to think they would be smothered alive. But while thinking about it, he went to sleep again, leaving Frederick snorting as before. Just how long they slept in that snow-bank, they did not know, but when they did wake up and try to emerge, they found themselves completely snowed in, and only got out by vigorous use of their knives, so hard and compact had the ice and snow become. Frederick being able to understand only signs and a very few words chiefly referring to food, their conversation was very limited.
They found the dogs and sledge almost buried in snow. Hastily harnessing up, they reached the Boat Camp on Newman’s Bay at noon. Here they again went into camp by digging into a snow-bank and covering the hole with the tent. “Skaffer,” or eating, being first in order, they supplied themselves by thawing their prepared roast. Then they had a smoke—that great solace of the traveler in every clime. Snow-houses and snow-holes, they concluded, have many objections, but they always have the merit of being warm. Feeling uneasy about Brainard and his party, imagining all manner of things about them, at 9 P. M., Lockwood left everything behind and went forth with dogs and sledge to hunt them up, and at midnight met them valiantly struggling along toward the Boat Camp. They had found shelter from the storm behind a large, friendly floe-berg, where the tent could stand. On the 10th, preceding them, he picked up the bags of pemmican he had put off, and returned to Boat Camp, where they came also and burrowed in the snow. All thus found themselves at their first station. Jewell, being originally of the party of the dog-sledge, lodged and fed with them when together, he sleeping in a single bag, and Lockwood and Frederick together. “It was,” Lockwood remarks, “a choice of evils which to prefer—Frederick groaning like a piece of machinery, or Jewell always getting the stockings and wraps mixed up, and invariably laying hold of the dry ones as his own.”
“Snow-holes,” he again says, “having the insuperable objection of asphyxiation, we repaired the tents and returned to civilization—that is, went really into camp. Whistler and Bender were found completely done up this morning both in flesh and spirits—all kinds of pains, shortness of breath, spitting of blood, faintness. Not being enthusiastic about going farther, I deemed it best to send them back, and they left at once for the station.”
They now had several things to look to before going farther—to bring up the rations sent across to the Gap, also to bring over those left at the tent on the straits.
At midnight, Brainard and party, with three Hudson Bay sledges, started on this work, and Lockwood left two hours after, with a dog-sledge and Frederick, for the same purpose. Taking advantage of smooth ice, interrupted now and then outside the pack near shore, he soon overhauled Brainard, and they reached the Gap together. There they found the boat, which had been sent over with so much labor, a complete wreck. They, however, placed it out of reach of further damage, as it might yet become important to them. They then went into camp by going into a snow-burrow prepared there some weeks before when the boat had been brought over, and proceeded to have a feast, which possessed at least one merit, that of being enough, for Lockwood did not deem it necessary to adhere strictly to sledge rations till they had left their base of supplies. Leaving the others to load up and return to Boat Camp, he and Frederick left with the dog-sledge for the food put out on the straits en route. Part of this they took up and then joined the others at Boat Camp, men and dogs well spent and tired; but a good meal, a good smoke, and a snooze in their bags, set them all right.
Their number was now reduced to nine, two having been sent back soon after leaving the snow-house (Depot “B”), and two from Boat Camp. The Hudson Bay sledges were much worn, and likely to become useless. Lockwood now determined to return to the main station for new runners, leaving the men under Brainard to bring up the supplies still out, and otherwise make ready for the advance. The round trip would be one hundred miles, and would add much to the labor of the dogs, but there was no help for it, as he could take no chances on the threshold of the long journey before them.
Soon after making this resolve, he and Frederick got off with their team, carrying nothing but an axe and half a pound of tobacco. The dogs were in fine condition, notwithstanding their recent hard work. True, they supplemented their rations and thus added to their strength by stealing thirty-five pounds of bacon! “It is wonderful,” Lockwood here remarks, “what these Esquimaux dogs can do. This team, which was regarded as a scrub affair—Dr. Pavy having had his pick of dogs—hauled ice all through the winter, made a trip beyond Cape Beechy in February, another to Thank-God-Harbor and Newman’s Bay in March, and then hauled a load to Lincoln Bay and four days after started on this present trip; yet now they travel along as lively as ever—so lively that the driver finds it difficult to keep up.”
They duly reached the station, and, of course, Greely and all were surprised to see them, probably taking them for another cargo of cripples. After a good sleep and a feast, they were off on their return at 10 P. M. of the 14th. They took on the runners, a feed of walrus-meat, a few other trifles, and also a heliograph, the last to open communication in case of delay or disaster. Stopping six hours at the snow-house to rest and feed, they started across the strait with a small load of meat, and, notwithstanding some rubble-ice which delayed them, reached the Boat Camp at 5.30 P. M., very tired and very sleepy, too, having accomplished this remarkable journey of one hundred miles in fifty-four hours. During their absence, Brainard had brought in everything, and all was ready for the advance as soon as they could repair the sledges.
After repairing and rebuilding, they had for the trip:
1. Dog-sledge, Lieutenant Lockwood and Esquimaux Frederick; total weight, 743 pounds.