CHAPTER XXV
April drew toward its close, leaving us as a parting gift in latitude 76° 19′ N., longitude 164° 45′ E. Over 76° North, and with our drift increasing in speed weekly! We were on our way now with a vengeance, moving at last toward the Pole. A few more months like April, and we might find ourselves by the middle of summer across the 83rd parallel, to establish with the Jeannette at the very least a new record for Farthest North! The effect on George Washington De Long was magical—his shoulders straightened up as if he had shed a heavy weight, his blue eyes became positively cheery, new courage oozed from his every gesture—after twenty weary months of discouragement and defeat, our third year in the Arctic was going to redeem all and send us home unashamed!
May came. The temperature rose only a little, reaching zero, but we didn’t mind that much, for in a few days we were nearing the 77th parallel. The captain’s cheerfulness began to communicate itself to the crew and a livelier spirit became decidedly manifest in all hands, with one exception, that is. Collins, of course, was the exception. He, technically a prisoner awaiting courtmartial, moped worse than ever; upset even more by the idea that now that he no longer had any active part, the expedition might really accomplish something. Physically Collins was not under restraint—no irons, no cell, not even restriction to his own stateroom, let alone restriction to the confines of the ship. The captain had no wish to risk Collins’ health by even such confinement as Danenhower was involuntarily subjected to. But relieved wholly of all duty and responsibility, Collins was in effect merely a passenger; his former work was divided between the captain, Ambler, Chipp and myself, throwing a heavier load on us, for the meteorological observations were religiously kept up. Indeed, with the ship at last rapidly changing position northward and westward, they were now increased. Still a member of the cabin mess, Collins ate with us, absolutely silent except for an ostentatiously polite “Good morning, captain,” once a day, after which his fine oblivion respecting the existence of the rest of us was an excellent wet blanket on conviviality at meals.
But other things relieved the monotony of meals a bit. Ducks and geese began to show up overhead, flying some west, some north, and occasionally landing on the small pools near by, formed by the continually changing cracks in the moving ice. Dunbar and Alexey knocked down some with their shotguns. After our continuous diet of salt beef and insipid canned meat, rest assured we bit into those heaven-sent ducks avidly, though frequently sudden cries of pain as some gourmet’s teeth came down hard on pellets of lead, showed that Ah Sam had been none too careful in extracting birdshot before serving.
The weather warmed up a bit. The sun, though never high in the heavens, stayed above the horizon twenty-four hours a day, and even at midnight we began to see him, paradoxically enough, looking at us from due north, over the unknown Pole!
But as another paradox, now that winter was going and late spring and continuous daylight were with us, the doctor for the first time on our long cruise since the diarrhoea epidemic in 1879, began again to have a string of patients. Chipp, Tong Sing, Newcomb, Alexey, Kuehne, Nindemann, and unfortunately, himself—all complained of general debility, cramps in varying degrees, and slight indications of palsy. Chipp, Tong Sing, and Newcomb, in the order named, were worst.
What was the trouble? The doctor, himself a minor sufferer, was able to work on his own symptoms as well as on those of the others in diagnosis. Naturally, since we had just come through the winter, scurvy was promptly suspected, but not a single evidence of the very obvious manifestations of that disease could the doctor find in anyone. This was some mental relief, for in the midst of all our other failures, De Long, Ambler, and I had taken considerable pride in having with my distilled water kept us free of that Arctic scourge and for a longer period than ever before in history.
But if it wasn’t scurvy, what was it? Ambler racked his brains and his medical books, going over all possible diseases that cold, exposure, darkness, poor ventilation, depression, and our diet might have exposed us to, but to no result. The symptoms were none too obvious; he could lay his finger on nothing definite. Had we developed a new Arctic disease from our unprecedented stay in the ice? The surgeon could not say—only time would tell. Meanwhile, Chipp, the worst sufferer, decidedly thin and weak, was first relieved of part of his duties and then of all of them. The other victims were told to take things easier till they had recuperated.
But as the days dragged along, they didn’t recuperate, they got worse. The doctor put Chipp on the sicklist and ordered him to bed; the same with Charley Tong Sing whose case became even more serious. Meanwhile Ambler, suffering himself, was feverishly searching his Materia Medica for an antidote. But with no definite diagnosis of the disease possible, his search was fruitless. Ambler was nearly distracted, for no ailment arising from our manner of life fitted in with the vague symptoms. And then a severe attack of colic in Newcomb gave him a clue. He checked his medical books, checked the other patients, and with a grave face went to the captain to inform him that, implausible as it seemed, without question every man on the sicklist was suffering from acute lead poisoning!
That made the mystery even deeper. If lead poisoning, where was the lead coming from? Lead poisoning was normally a painter’s disease and not for months had any man on the ship touched a paint pot or a brush. What then was the source? As the most probable cause, I had to direct suspicion at myself, for Bartlett, Lee, and I in making up our distiller piping joints, had for tightness wiped them all with red lead. Immediately, Surgeon Ambler who had daily for a year and a half been testing the water for salt, tested it for lead. He found some insignificant traces, but it seemed hard to believe such minute quantities could cause us trouble. Still we had been imbibing that water constantly and the cumulative effect might have done it. While the problem of dismantling all the pipe joints and cleaning them of red lead was being cogitated, the captain went one step further—he ordered Ah Sam to discontinue for use in making tea and coffee, the pots which had soldered joints, and to replace them with iron vessels.