We had no serious difficulty in reaching the berg; the ice was much crevassed, and about the leads were great lines of hummocks which made ski travelling a task; but we were unencumbered and had become somewhat accustomed to rough roads. We started shortly after one o’clock. It took us an hour to reach our destination, and we spent about forty minutes on the berg and about it, but then, noticing that the light was quickly departing, we hurried home. The winter effect upon the berg had been considerable. The pack-ice about it had been much broken and raised in numerous hummocks by pressure. To the westward side a great quantity of ice had been forced upon the berg to a height of twenty feet, indicating what we had expected, that the prevailing pressure during the night had been from the west. The old crevasses were mostly closed, and the sharp, projecting spires were coated with great quantities of coarse hoar-frost. There was no evidence about the berg to warrant a belief in an upbuilding of bergs during the winter. On the contrary the signs were indicative of their having been considerably reduced in bulk. On our way back we secured one king penguin, the first during the night, and it will be a pleasant addition to our larder.
July 12.—The light is daily increasing at midday, which should be a potent encouragement, but we are failing in fortitude and in physical force. From day to day we all complain of a general enfeeblement of strength, of insufficient heart action, of a mental lethargy, and of a universal feeling of discomfort. There has, however, been one exception; one among us who has not fallen into the habit of being a chronic complainer. This is Captain Lecointe. The captain has had to do the most trying work, that of making the nautical observations, which often keeps him handling delicate instruments outside, and in trying positions in the open blast for an hour at a time. He has come in with frosted fingers, frozen ears, and stiffened feet, but with characteristic good humour he has passed these discomforts off. His heart action has steadily remained full and regular. The only other man in the party of equal strength is the cook, Michotte. But to-day I have to record the saddening news that Lecointe is suddenly failing. Not that he has complained of any ill-feeling, for he still maintains that he feels well; but in the usual daily examination, I notice that his pulse is intermitting, the first sign of coming debility. He is assuming a deathly pallor, does not eat, and finds it difficult to either sleep or breathe. There is a puffiness under the eyes, his ankles are swollen, and the entire skin has a dry, glossy appearance. The symptoms are all similar to those of Danco in his last stages; but Lecointe has a steady heart and sound organs, which augur in his favour.
July 14.—Lecointe has given up all hope of ever recovering, and has made out his last instructions. His case seems almost hopeless to me. The unfavourable prognosis has sent another wave of despair over the entire party. Almost everybody is alarmed and coming to me for medical treatment, for real or imaginary troubles. The complaints differ considerably, but the underlying cause is the same in all. We are developing a form of anæmia peculiar to the polar regions. An anæmia which I had noticed before among the members of the first Peary Arctic Expedition, but our conditions are much more serious. To overcome this trouble I have devised a plan of action, which the sailors call the “baking treatment.”
Medicament, I find, is of little service. A temporary relief is sometimes effected by well-directed drugs, but the lasting effects are disappointing. Iron and arsenic, and many of the ordinary tonics effective in home anæmias, are entirely inert. After considerable experiment, I have abandoned drugs as an important aid. Fresh food, artificial heat, a buoyant humour, judicious clothing, and the least possible humidity are the conditions which suggest a rational treatment. I should like to take up this subject in detail and give my reasons for this plan of treatment, but the discussions would take us into a long and technical consideration, which I fear would be of interest only to medical men. The plan of treatment in brief is as follows: As soon as the pulse becomes irregular and rises to one hundred beats per minute, with a puffiness of the eyes and swollen ankles, the man is stripped and placed close to a fire for one hour each day. I prohibit all food except milk, cranberry sauce, and fresh meat, either penguin or seal steaks fried in oleomargarine. The patient is not allowed to do anything which will seriously tax the heart. His bedding is dried daily, and his clothing is carefully adjusted to the needs of his occupation. Laxatives are generally necessary, and vegetable bitters, with mineral acids, are a decided help. Strychnine is the only remedy which has given me any service in regulating the heart, and this I have used as a routine. But surely one of the most important things was to raise the patient’s hopes and instil a spirit of good humour. When at all seriously afflicted, the men felt that they would surely die, and to combat this spirit of abject hopelessness was my most difficult task. My comrades, however, were excellent aids, for as soon as one of our number was down, everybody made it his business to create an air of good cheer about him.
OSGOOD ART COLORTYPE CO., CHI. & N. Y.
Twilight Amid The Antarctic Ice
The first upon whom I tried this system of treatment systematically was Lecointe. I had urged part of it upon Danco, but he could not eat the penguin, and when I told him he must, he said he would rather die. When Lecointe came under treatment I told him that if he would follow the treatment carefully I thought he would be out of bed in a week. I did not have this faith in the treatment at that time, but I had confidence in the soundness of Lecointe’s organs and I wished to boom up the man. Lecointe replied by saying, “I will sit on the stove for a month and eat penguins for the rest of my polar life if that will do me good.” (He did sit beside the stove two hours daily for a month, and he ate, by his own choosing, penguin steaks for the balance of his stay in the polar circle. In a week he was about, and in a fortnight he again made his observations, and for the rest of his polar existence he was again one of the strongest men on the Belgica).
For a number of days the temperature has remained below -30° C. Yesterday and to-day it has ranged from -34° to -37° C., with a strong southerly and westerly wind. With such temperatures and a strong wind it is impossible to exist outside. One freezes the extremities so quickly that it is positively dangerous to be out; but in still weather there is no temperature too low to prevent outdoor work. To-day the ice is separating, leaving leads running eastward and westward, but for a week past the entire horizon has been one solid, unbroken mass. There is no life visible, but we have seen tracks of both the royal and the small penguins.
July 15.—The weather continues cold, but clear and calm, the only three qualities which make the antarctic climate endurable during the night. There is now much light. One can read ordinary print at 9 A.M., and at noon the north is flushed with a glory of green and orange and yellow. We are still very feeble. An exercise of one hour sends the pulse up to 130, but we have all learned to like and crave penguin meat. To sleep is our most difficult task, and to avoid work is the mission of everybody. Arctowski says, “We are in a mad-house,” and our humour points that way.