Adrift in the Arctic ice pack

by Elisha Kent Kane

“The difference struck me, and not quite pleasantly, as I climbed over straw and rubbish into the little peculium which was to be my resting-place for so long a time. The cabin, which made the homestead of four human beings, was somewhat less in dimensions than a penitentiary cell. There was just room enough for two berths of six feet each on a side; and the area between, which is known to naval men as ‘the country,’ seemed completely filled up with the hinged table, the four camp-stools, and the lockers. A hanging lamp, that creaked uneasily on its gimbals, illustrated through the mist some long rows of crockery shelves and the dripping step-ladder that led directly from the wet deck above. Everything spoke of cheerless discomfort and narrow restraint....

“I now began, with an instinct of future exigencies, to fortify my retreat. The only spot I could call my own was the berth I have spoken of before. It was a sort of bunk—a right-angled excavation, of six feet by two feet eight in horizontal dimensions, let into the side of the vessel, with a height of something less than a yard. My first care was to keep water out, my second to make it warm. A bundle of tacks, and a few yards of India-rubber cloth, soon made me an impenetrable casing over the entire wood-work. Upon this were laid my Mormon wolf-skin and a somewhat ostentatious Astracan fur cloak, a relic of former travel. Two little wooden shelves held my scanty library; a third supported a reading lamp, or, upon occasion, a Berzelius’ argand, to be lighted when the dampness made an increase of heat necessary. My watch ticked from its particular nail, and a more noiseless monitor, my thermometer, occupied another. My ink-bottle was suspended, pendulum fashion, from a hook, and to one long string was fastened, like the ladle of a street-pump, my entire toilet, a tooth-brush, a comb, and a hair-brush.

“Now, when all these distributions had been happily accomplished, and I crawled in from the wet, and cold, and disorder of without, through a slit in the India-rubber cloth, to the very centre of my complicated resources, it would be hard for any one to realize the quantity of comfort which I felt I had manufactured. My lamp burned brightly; little or no water distilled from the roof; my furs warmed me into satisfaction; and I realized that I was sweating myself out of my preliminary cold, and could temper down at pleasure the abruptness of my acclimation.”

The expedition progressed northward without special incident until the 8th of July, when, having passed Uppernavik, “the jumping-off place of Arctic navigators,” the two vessels became locked fast in the ice. Then began a heart-breaking task of warping through the pack with ice-anchor, cable and winch. It was “all hands” at this heave and haul, from captain to cook, and the doctor too. “We were twenty-one days thus imprisoned, never leaving a little circle of some six miles radius.” Then they struck open water-leads, and made fair progress for sailing vessels under such circumstances, but “how often when retarded by baffling winds or unfavorable leads, have I wished for a few hours of steam!”

On August 18th they passed the ice barrier of Baffin Bay, and bore away southwesterly towards Lancaster Sound, in more open water than they had seen for weeks. Several British rescue squadrons were known to be somewhere in these waters, including a number of steamers, but De Haven and his associates were ignorant of their course and intended scheme of search.

“We had dreamed before this, and pleasantly enough, of fellowship with them in our efforts, dividing between us the hazards of the way, and perhaps in the long winter holding with them the cheery intercourse of kindred sympathies. We waked now to the probabilities of passing the dark days alone. Yet fairly on the way, an energetic commander, a united ship’s company, the wind freshening, our well-tried little ice-boat now groping her way like a blind man through fog and bergs, and now dashing on as if reckless of all but success—it was impossible to repress a sentiment almost akin to the so-called joyous excitement of conflict.

“We were bidding good-by to ‘ye goode baye of old William Baffin’; and as we looked round with a farewell remembrance upon the still water, the diminished icebergs, and the constant sun which had served us so long and faithfully, we felt that the Bay had used us kindly.”

On August 19th they fell in with two of the British vessels,—and now begins the interesting part of Kane’s narrative: the discovery of the site of Franklin’s first winter encampment, then of three head-stones marking the graves of men belonging to his expedition, and finally the separation of the American squadron from their English allies, the freezing-in of the two ships, and their drifting helplessly in the ice pack, month after month, through the long Arctic night, where no vessel ever had wintered before—drifting “toward God knows where!”

The following pages comprise chapters XX to XLVI of Dr. Kane’s work “The U. S. Grinnell Expedition in search of Sir John Franklin: a Personal Narrative” (London and New York, 1854), omitting nothing but some scientific observations that do not add to the interest of the book as a record of heroic adventure.

In this narrative Dr. Kane tells of the first discovery of traces of the Franklin expedition—the winter encampment on Beechey Island, and the three graves. No more was learned of the ill-starred navigators until 1854, when Dr. Rae, of the Hudson’s Bay Company heard that a party of white men had been seen, four winters before, on King William’s Land, and that their bodies had been afterwards found on the mainland. From the Eskimos who gave him this report he obtained various relics of the Franklin expedition that were unquestionably authentic.