They tramped along on snow-shoes, and a couple of hours after starting, Brainard, who was on the hill-side to the left, discovered, with his one unbandaged eye, relics of Beaumont—an old Enfield rifle, a pole shod with iron, a cross-piece of a sledge, three or four articles of underwear, some cartridges, sewing-thread and thimble, and the remains of a shoe with a wooden sole about an inch thick. Other articles mentioned by Lieutenant Beaumont in his journal were not to be found. They may have been carried off by animals or buried in the snow near by. The articles found were in a little bare mound near the ice-foot. “Poor Beaumont! how badly he must have felt when he passed along there with most of his party down with scurvy, dragging their heavy sledge and heavier equipments!” Farther on, Lockwood shot a ptarmigan on top of a large floe-berg thirty feet high, and, by taking advantage of a snow-drift and doing some “boosting,” they secured the bird. They stopped at cache No. 3 (near Frankfield Bay) and took out what the supporting party had left there. Gave the dogs the lime-juice pemmican and ground beans, but it was only by seeming to favor first one dog and then another that they were induced to eat it, thus illustrating the advantage of their “dog-in-the-manger” spirit. Went into camp on the east shore of Hand Bay. Their buffalo sleeping-bag now began to feel too warm, but was always delightfully soft and dry. Eyes painful. Advanced twelve miles in ten hours. After crossing Hand Bay they made a short stop at Cape Stanton. The Grinnell coast now became very distinct, and seemed home-like. They could see Cape Joseph Henry, or what they took for that headland. The floes off shore, consisting of alternate floes crossed by ridges of hummocks, made very laborious traveling. On reaching the cache near Stanton Gorge, they got the rations left there. The traveling continued very difficult and tiresome. On reaching the Black Horn Cliffs, they decided, as their old tracks were entirely obliterated, to follow along under the cliffs, instead of taking the wide détour they had made going out. They got along pretty well for a while, and then reached a mass of hummocks and rubble-ice. There they found a relic of the past—a towel which the men had used to wipe the dishes, and had lost or abandoned. By dint of hard work they got through this bad ice, crossed the smooth, level floe adjoining, and then came to the next patch of rubble-ice. After proceeding through this some distance, the sledge needing relashing, Lockwood went on alone with the axe, making a road as he went. Found the site of their old camp on the shore, but, as the snow slope there had become impassable, he kept along the coast on the floe and finally found a landing several miles to the west. Sledge and all got here at eight o’clock, and they continued on over the snow slopes, passing the remains of the “Nares” sledge and reaching Drift Point, where they went into camp alongside a big floe-berg, with lots of icicles upon it waiting for them, having advanced twenty-two and a half miles in ten hours. Finding strong winds and snow from the west, they delayed starting till almost midnight. The ice-foot along this low, sloping shore being excellent, they made good time, in an hour reaching the place of their first camp on this coast. The melting of the floe-bergs and the fall of the snow had so changed the general aspect, that the place was hardly recognizable. At 2 A. M. they came opposite the break in the cliff where they had entered on the coast in April. They soon made out the dark object seen previously from this point to be a cairn, and discovered a small bay which they knew must be Repulse Harbor. Crossing this bay, they reached the cairn at three o’clock. It was a tremendous affair, and the tin can inside was full of papers by Beaumont, Dr. Coppinger, and others. As a cold wind was blowing, Lockwood made a short-hand copy of the documents and left the originals.
Lockwood’s eyes filled with tears as he read the last postscript of the several which followed the main record of poor Beaumont. Sitting on these bare rocks amid snow and wind, with a desolate coast-line on one side, and the wide, dreary straits on the other, he could well appreciate what Beaumont’s feelings must have been when he reached here with his party all broken down with scurvy, and, after trying to cross the straits and failing on account of open water, had no other recourse but to try and reach Thank-God Harbor. His last postscript reads thus:
“Repulse Harbor Depot, June 13, 1876.—Three of us have returned from my camp, half a mile south, to fetch the remainder of the provisions. D—— has failed altogether this morning. Jones is much worse, and can’t last more than two or three days. Craig is nearly helpless. Therefore we can’t hope to reach Polaris Bay without assistance. Two men can’t do it. So will go as far as we can and live as long as we can. God help us! (Signed) “L. A. Beaumont.”
He and Gray were the only ones left, and both shortly discovered scorbutic symptoms.
Chilled through, Lockwood now continued along the coast to the west, following the ice-foot under a grand line of cliffs. After a while, they came to a narrow break or cleft in the cliffs, the gateway of a small mountain-torrent. It was like a winding and dark alley in a city, with vertical sides rising to the height of several hundred feet. Entering it, they presently came to an immense snow-drift, probably fifty or more feet high and filling up the gorge like a barricade, with another a little beyond. They returned to the sledge, thoroughly satisfied that Beaumont never went through that place. About seven they came to what seemed to be the “Gap Valley” of the English, a wide, broad valley, extending due south about three miles to a ravine. They therefore turned off from the coast and followed it, encountering a good deal of deep snow and bare, stony spots. At 11 A. M. they camped in the ravine near its head, thoroughly tired out. They now had only one day’s food left, and it behooved them to make Boat Camp in another march, even though fifty miles off. Advanced seventeen miles in eleven hours. The dogs for several days had been on short allowance, and during their sleep tore open the bag of specimen rocks and stones, but fortunately did not chew them up as they had done the cartridges.
Getting off at 3.29 and crossing the table-land, they struck a narrow gorge running precipitately down to Newman’s Bay. At its head was a mountainous drift of snow, which they descended on the run; then came a number of smaller drifts, completely blocking up the gorge, over which they had to lower the sledge by hand. Near the bay, they discovered a singular snow-cave one hundred feet long, and occupying the entire bed of the stream, arched through its whole length by beautiful ribs of snow, from which depended delicate snow-crystals. The entrance was quite small, but inside, the roof was far above their heads. They lost sight of its picturesqueness in the thought of its fitness for the burrow of a sledge-party. This brought them on the smooth surface of the bay, with familiar landmarks before and around them—Cape Sumner, Cape Beechy, and far in the distance, Distant Point and the land near Franklin Bay. Looking back at the ravine from the bay, Lockwood felt sure no one would ever take this little, insignificant, narrow gully for the route of a sledge-party, and that no one traveling this, or the one they took going out, would ever take either again in preference to going round Cape Brevoort. They delayed along the shore of the bay almost an hour, leisurely building a cairn and viewing the scenery, and then going on, reached the farther side at eight o’clock, making their last final retreat of ten miles in five hours and a half. There was the whale-boat, and pitched alongside it, anchored down by stones and held by ropes, the six-man tent of the supporting party. Inside were Sergeants Lynn and Ralston, and Corporal Ellison, fast asleep. Lockwood had told Lynn to send back to Conger three of his party on reaching Boat Camp. The remaining three awaited his return. The work of pitching tent woke up the other party, and soon they heard the sound of the Polaris fog-horn (picked up near by), and saw three heads projecting from the tent, whose owners gave them a warm welcome, as well they might, after awaiting their return nearly a month at this place, the dreariest of all in that dreary region. The remaining stores were ransacked for a big feast, without regard to the rations. Corned and boiled beef, canned potatoes and beans, butter, milk, and canned peaches, made a meal fit for a king or for gods that had just experienced an Arctic sledge-journey. The monotonous life of these men had been varied only by a visit from two bears, and the arrival of Dr. Pavy—sent by Lieutenant Greely with some rations.
The news from the station was that Dr. Pavy with Sergeant Rice and Esquimaux Jans had got only as far as Cape Joseph Henry, when they were stopped by open water. Lockwood had taken it for granted that the doctor would attain Markham’s latitude and excel his own. Lieutenant Greely had been west from Fort Conger on a trip of twelve days in the mountains, and had discovered a large lake with a river flowing out of it, which had no ice on its surface—something very wonderful. The vegetation had also shown a much milder atmosphere than anywhere else in these latitudes. Numerous Esquimaux relics had been found, and many musk-oxen seen.
Turning their backs on the Boat Camp, and with many loud blasts on the Polaris fog-horn, they started at 11.25 P. M. for Fort Conger.
The snow along the snow-slopes was badly drifted, but with so many to help, they got along without much delay and soon reached Cape Sumner. They found the rubble-ice south of that point worse than before, and here and there were little pools of water. The weather was very thick, the wind blowing and snow falling, and the farther side of the straits completely hidden, so that they went via the Gap, but there had to leave the shore and direct their course as well as possible by compass. Presently they could see neither shore, and got into a mass of rubble-ice, mixed with soft snow-drifts. Lynn and party (Ralston and Ellison) had not traveled any for so long that they began to get very much fatigued, and could not keep up with the sledge. They had not slept since the arrival at the Boat Camp, owing to the excitement of the occasion. The driving snow hurt their eyes, and they were a very sorry party. However, they kept on, and finally came in sight of the west coast, and some hours afterward, finding good floes to travel over, a little before noon reached the “tent on the straits”—about five miles from Cape Beechy—Ellison and Ralston completely exhausted.
En route again, they spread the American flag on a long pole and carried it thus till they reached the station. At the snow-house, where they remained some hours to rest and get something to eat, they found Ellis and Whistler, who had come up from Fort Conger to look out for the party.