“Breakers ahead!” thought the embryo explorer, whilst the little wife was struck dumb to think her captain, whose name was to be enrolled with Franklin, Kane, Hall and others, and which will last in the world’s archives so long as civilization remains on top, should be the victim of a mistake. It is not known whether Commander De Long piloted Mrs. Hayes from the tropical regions of the yellow fever to the Arctic barriers of the North Pole, but it is certain that both husband and wife left the Executive mansion wiser if not happier than before.
A good sharp taste of Arctic adventure can be obtained by gazing upon a picture of the Polaris, of the late Hall expedition as she lay locked in her frozen bed in the cruel polar sea. The artist has caught the icy atmosphere, with all its bleak, horrible surroundings. If the Polaris remains undisturbed by beast or savage, the centuries will roll by, leaving the vessel intact, like the mastodon, now extinct, but preserved by the glaciers of Siberia. A fiery enthusiasm took possession of the late Capt. C. F. Hall, and he came to the capital to plead his cause before Congress, as did Columbus before Ferdinand and Isabella. This same kind of flame is what lights up the path of progress, and keeps civilization from going down to the tomb. It made Isabella sell her jewels, and it forced our Congress to give Captain Hall an ear, and the consequence was the purchase by the Government of an ice vessel of the Delaware, Periwinkle by name. She was brought to Washington, where Secretary Robeson caused her very ribs to be taken out and others of the greatest strength put in the place. To finish all, he added to the long rakish sailing body an iron nose. In nautical language seven feet of “dead wood,” or solid timber, protected the forward part of the ship and this was strengthened by a plating of iron. Her sides were from twenty inches to two feet in thickness, whilst she had just twice the number of iron bolts in her carcass that are used for ordinary vessels for whaling purposes. Nearly every dollar of the appropriation was used in the purchase and strengthening of the ships, leaving nothing for ornament; but everything in the shape of comfort and luxury was contributed by the wealthy citizens of Boston, even to musical instruments, which were to pierce the solitudes with cultured airs. The Polaris was rigged as a foretop-sail schooner, and was able to sail and steer without aid from her engine. The engine could burn either coal or oil, but it was not expected to be of much use in extreme northern latitudes, as the danger was imminent of breaking the paddle-wheels on the ice; and the propeller was arranged in such a way that it could be lifted on deck through a shaft or “propeller-well.” But if the propeller was broken a new one was provided. The cargo was made up of duplicate articles to insure its progress and safety. Most wonderful life-boats were provided. One in particular attracted attention because it was made for sledge journeys. It was constructed of hickory and ash, and folded up like an umbrella, thus occupying one-eighth of the space as when opened for use. It takes only two or three minutes to spread this boat on the water. Its weight was two hundred and fifty pounds. A life-preserving buoy was placed on the outside of the stern of the Polaris, and in case a man fell overboard it could instantly be lowered by touching a spring somewhere near the pilot-house. By touching another spring an electric light was elevated two feet above the buoy, and this would light up the water for yards around.
The vessel was loaded with pemmican, dessicated vegetables, canned meats and fruits. The pemmican was the life of the expedition. The latter is an ugly brownish compound to the eye, disgusting to the taste in civilized regions; but an old whaler says: “It is an entirely different article in the Arctic regions. When exposed to the intense cold it becomes pale straw color, and melts in the mouth like a peach, only ten thousand times more delicious.” It is said to be worth a journey to the North Pole to be able to eat pemmican accompanied by raw walrus liver.
All this frozen knowledge is vividly retained in the writer’s mind, because it was her experience to sit at the same table with Captain Hall at the National Hotel during the time the vessel was being fitted out for her last voyage. This enthusiast had already spent five years of his life with the Esquimaux and looked upon it as the happiest period of his existence. There seemed to be a delightful thrill in his mind when he would relate his escapes from freezing. “One night,” said the Captain, “I had gone to pay a visit to an Esquimaux lodge. I had gone to bed and was enjoying the most sublime dreams. It seemed as if the whole sky in every quarter was blazing with auroral lights, when all at once I felt myself trampled on, rudely shaken and beaten with small fists. For a time I could not collect my mind or understand what it all meant, but as soon as consciousness asserted itself I learned that my kind friends had discovered that I was freezing to death. The lodge was colder than the one I had been accustomed to, and I had foolishly decided to sleep alone, but I had been watched as a mother looks after her child.”
“How did you get through the night, Captain?”
“After that experience I was willing to share the beds with the Esquimaux, their favorite dogs included. The proprieties of civilized life are entirely wiped out in the Arctic regions. It is merely the animal fighting for existence.”
“But what good will come from this vast expenditure of precious blood and treasure?”
“The stars and stripes must float from the icy pinnacle of the North Pole. Congress has given me the means, and with God’s help I’ll nail our banner there.”
Now that we have so many brave men battling for their lives on their return from the ill-fated Jeannette, the writer thought the readers of The Times might wish to see recalled a picture of the Polaris, with her intrepid commander, whose bones have been left to crumble in the awful “ice field,” for soil there is none to be reached with pick and shovel—only a snow grave.
The Polaris left her moorings at the Washington navy yard with nothing omitted which would detract from her success. Captain Budington, the old whaler upon whom devolved the safety of the vessel, left nothing undone. It was this indomitable seaman who floated the fragment of Captain Hall’s crew home on a cake of ice. The experience of this little band reads like one of Hans Andersen’s fairy tales. The cruise of the Jeannette makes a good advertisement for the New York Herald, but what has the Government or nation gained by its outlay in the Bennett scheme? Hereafter the fools must not be permitted to fall into the Herald’s trap if the Government is expected to pay the greater part of the bills. Judging the future by the past, an incipient Arctic explorer should be treated as a lunatic and be placed where the contagion can be treated with the freezing process such as Mrs. Hayes understood so well.