VIEW FROM THE TOP OF HANNAH ISLAND.
It was then midnight and very calm. A well-sheltered bay shut in by Bellot Island offered a secure harbour, and both ships entered it, steaming in towards a snow-covered valley at its head. Half-a-mile inland in the valley lay a cluster of dark objects; through our telescopes they looked like boulders; but as we watched them, wondering at their uniform size, they appeared to move. In a moment there could be no mistake. They were musk oxen, eleven of them in all, and within easy reach. A hunting party of six was soon organised, and in a few minutes a boat landed us on this yet untrodden shore. We separated in three directions, meaning to cut off the retreat of the animals landwards, but, unfortunately, our left wing engaged the enemy sooner than we expected, and they made off at a rolling gallop up a steep glen; two of them, evidently wounded, turned downwards towards a ravine to the left, but the main body vanished over the brow of a hill. So many pounds of good fresh meat could not be allowed to escape without an effort, and accordingly two of us started off up hill on the track of the game. They had made almost a complete circle, and we sighted them standing together on a steep isolated bluff nearly over where we had first seen them. Hidden by a projecting edge of the hill crest, we scrambled to the top up a slope of stones and snow, and surprised the beasts not ten yards off. They galloped right and left, heads down, and sweeping the snow with their long shaggy fur, but fell fast under the quick fire of our Winchester repeating rifles—murderous weapons for this sort of work. In less than a minute all seven were stretched on the snow.
It was now necessary to skin and cut up our victims, but before we commenced this very disagreeable duty, the reports of rifles in the valley below induced us to look over the brow. Our comrades had been reinforced by others from the ships, and a circle of assailants had closed round the wounded leader of the herd—a splendid bull. He was making his last stand close to the brink of a deep ravine, gallantly facing round at the flash of each rifle. He could no longer charge, but the angry toss of his head showed how dangerous it would be to close with him. He received no less than twenty-eight heavy Snider bullets before he fell.
Musk ox hunting is not, as a rule, exciting sport. The skinning and cleaning of the game, often in a cutting wind and low temperature, and the carrying of the meat on board the ship, involved a good deal of labour. Upon a subsequent occasion one of our hunters conceived the happy idea of making a wounded ox carry his own beef towards the ship, but the beast resented direction, refused even to be led by the horns, and finally overthrew his captor, and had to be despatched incontinently. They rarely attack, and can generally be approached within rifle range with little trouble. Sometimes, however, they are unaccountably timid. Animals that have never seen men are said to be devoid of fear; but our experience does not bear out the statement. Every beast we met, from the musk ox to the lemming, was afraid of us. They seemed to take some time to realise that we did not belong to their world. But having once made up their minds, they showed even more terror than wild animals usually do.
Each musk ox gave us about two hundred pounds of meat, often most excellent, but occasionally tainted with the flavour that gives them their name. We failed to ascertain the source of this characteristic. It occurs in both sexes and at all ages; and, moreover, it is not peculiar to the musk ox, for a haunch of reindeer presented to us by the Governor of Egedesminde possessed the very same flavour. A long course of preserved food makes most fresh meat acceptable; walrus and seal became delicacies; owls, foxes, and even skuas are not to be despised; but genuinely musky musk ox is fit for nothing more civilised than Eskimo dogs.
HEAD OF MUSK OX.
According to the programme drawn up for our Expedition before we left England, the second ship was not to be carried beyond the 82° parallel of north latitude. The sheltered harbour in which the ships now lay was 81° 41´, and was in every way suited for the winter quarters of our consort. Here, accordingly, the first stage of the Expedition terminated. So far everything we had hoped for had been accomplished. Depôts to cover retreat in case of disaster had been duly deposited at the Carey Islands and at Cape Hawkes, and a suitable harbour for H.M.S. “Discovery” had been found beyond Lady Franklin Strait, in a higher northern latitude than any human being had yet wintered in. Much of the navigable season still remained, and though we had all long ago realised the absurdity of expecting open water in the Far North, we could not but look hopefully forward to the long stretch of coast line shown on the charts extending to within 6° of the Pole, interrupted only by “Army Fiord” and “Navy Opening.”