As for New-Year’s-day, it came and departed without any special demonstrations: the son-of-a-gun was enjoyed by all parties; many of the ice-bound hearts were warmed by memories of home; and Greely and Lockwood had a long talk about the condition of affairs, and the prospects for the future.
The business of trading among the explorers being discouraged, did not long continue, but was succeeded by some other importations from civilization, viz., the taking of property of other people without leave or license. A report was made to Lieutenant Greely that some one had taken a quarter of a pound of bacon, left in the stearine by the cook; also that a barrel of bread had been broken open and two pounds taken away. This proved that the bears and the foxes were not the only thieves to be found in the Arctic regions. The man suspected of the deed was closely watched and had a narrow escape from being properly punished.
On the 10th of January, the case of poor Corporal Ellison was again brought up for discussion and prompt action. It had been hoped that his frosted feet would be restored to their normal condition, but this was not to be, for they were both amputated by Nature, and two of his fingers besides. Strange to say, this was accomplished without his being aware of what was taking place, so little vitality remained in these parts. When we recall the sufferings of this man, in connection with his surroundings and his distance from the comforts of home, we must conclude that the stories of fiction can not eclipse the wonders of actual life and experience. What a combination there of cold and hunger, bodily pain and mental anguish, darkness and perpetual storms!
As we pass over the daily records made by Lockwood in his journal at this particular time, we find food and the dangers of starvation to be the absorbing themes. It seems strange that, in a land of ice and snow, there should have been any apprehensions about a sufficient supply of drinking-water; but this was the case, and the fact came home to the exiles when they found that their supply of tea had to be reduced to half a cup per man. Good water was not only scarce, but could not be obtained from the neighboring lake, their sole dependence, without great toil in chopping away the ice. They had the ice, of course, but there was not sufficient fuel to reduce it to a liquid.
As they could keep warm only by remaining in their sleeping-bags, the manner of visiting each other was simply to exchange sleeping-bags; and thus, when Lockwood wanted to have a talk with Greely, one of the companions of the latter would exchange bags with the visitor.
On the 18th of January, another cloud was thrown upon the party by the death of Cross. He died of a kind of heart-disease, induced, it was supposed, by intemperance in drinking. For several hours before his death he uttered low moans which seemed a kind of echo from the grinding of the far-off ice-fields. His remains were enveloped in coffee-sacks and an American flag, and deposited in a stony grave near the neighboring lake, the only funeral remarks having been made by Lieutenant Lockwood.
On the 21st, Lockwood had a talk with Greely about his own health; said he was very weak, and had been so for two weeks, but had not mentioned it for fear of depressing the men; he could not account for it, and concluded by saying that if he should not be well or better when the time came to make the contemplated passage of the straits, he desired to be left behind with his share of the rations, and then be sent for from Littleton Island. To this Greely replied that he would never harbor such an idea for a single moment; that he would never abandon a living soul.
On the 2d of February, Rice and Jans started to test the passage of the straits, hoping to reach Littleton Island, where they expected to find some provisions or a relief-ship. But, alas! they were stopped by open water, and not successful, though they traveled about fifty miles up and down the floes, and were absent four days. Owing to the bad weather, they did not even get a glimpse of the coast of Greenland. All were greatly disappointed, and some felt that death from starvation was staring them in the face; and yet they found some relief in the increased light preceding the reappearance of the sun. Lockwood, who now became despondent and apathetic, endeavored to peer into the future, and wondered whether his bones were really to be left in the Arctic regions. He mourned over the fact that he had not been as good a son and as kind a brother as he might have been, and hoped that the dear ones at home would remember him as he wished to be, and not as he had been. As to the end, he hoped it would come soon, whatever it might be; and he declared himself possessed by a feeling of indifference to hunger, cold, and gloom, “all of them enemies of existence.” After mourning over the approaching fate of Ellison, he recorded these touching words: “How often I think of the dear ones at home, the Sunday evening reunions, and all the bright and happy pictures that present themselves! My dear, good old father! may he look with charity on my many short-comings! My dear mother and sisters and Harry, brothers-in-law, and nieces! I trust that they are well and happy, and, if I do not pull through this, will learn to look on my memory kindly!” An allusion that he now made to his companions in suffering was to this effect: “The party presents a bold front, and is not wanting in spirit. If our fate is the worst, I do not think we shall disgrace the name of Americans and of soldiers.” The attempt of Rice to cross the straits to Littleton Island was heroic in the extreme, and his pluck was further exemplified by a proposition that he submitted to Greely to make a second effort to cross the straits, and that, too, unattended by any companion; but the idea was not sanctioned.
On the 22d of February, strange to say, a raven made its appearance in the vicinity of the Arctic camp, but was not killed, although it might have been enjoyed at the forthcoming dinner. It must have been a great relief to some of the party that it disappeared without uttering its dreadful cry, “Nevermore!” as translated by the poet, Poe.
On the 27th, not knowing what might happen to him, Lockwood wrote the following in his journal: “The chronometer in my pocket is the one used on the trip to 83° 24´ and on all my trips in this region. My intention is to buy it, but, in case I do not get back, I would have it purchased and kept in the family.”