At Beechey Island, visited at different periods by (Sir John) Ross, Belcher, and Franklin, they found the yacht Mary, left by the former in 1851, in good condition. Northumberland House, erected by Sir Edward Belcher in 1854 as a depôt for stores, had evidently been broken into. The ground outside was strewn with tins of preserved meats and vegetables, forty-pound tins of pemmican, great rolls of heavy blue cloth, hundreds of pairs of socks and mittens, bales of blankets and clothing, all scattered over the ground in the most admired disorder. The ruin and destruction was so great that the place resembled the scene of a disastrous railway accident. Who were the marauders, these burglars that left their booty behind them; these housebreakers that not merely broke into a house, but spoiled nearly everything in it out of sheer wantonness? Evidently the Polar bears. The marks of their claws were everywhere and on everything. They had even gnawed into two or three barrels of salt beef, which they had quite emptied, and it was their claws that had punched holes in the heavy pemmican tins. Polar bears seem to be possessed of the very genius of destruction. Near the house is the monument of Lieutenant Bellot, the brave young French officer who lost his life when on the search for Franklin. Here also is a marble slab, the tombstone of brave Sir John himself. Both monuments were sent out in the Fox, at the expense of Lady Franklin. Three miles farther up the bay the graves of five seamen, of the crews of the Erebus, Terror, and North Star, were also found. “This Arctic graveyard is situated on a gravelly slope, which rises up from the little bay towards the foot of a high bluff, that frowns down upon it as though resenting the intrusion of human dead in this lonely world. Sad enough looked the poor head-boards as the low-sinking sun threw its yellow rays athwart them, casting long shadows over the shingly slope; silent, sad, and mournful as everything else in this dreary Arctic world.”
On the evening of August 27th they arrived at the entrance of Peel Strait, where a heavy pack of ice was encountered, so dense that it was hopeless to attempt a passage. A little later and it became evident that they were hourly in danger of being beset, and, once beset, imprisoned for the winter, and perhaps for more than one, without a harbour, with no opportunity of accomplishing anything. Neither were they provisioned for a length of time sufficient to run the risk of stopping in that neighbourhood.
On the shores of North Somerset they made an interesting discovery. The Pandora had attained the furthest point reached by Ross and McClintock when coming down the coast on foot from the north in 1849, at which time they had built a cairn, and left a record addressed to Sir John Franklin, stating that they had been despatched for his succour. Poor Franklin never found it, but it was reserved for Captain Young to receive it twenty-eight years later. Ross had at that time been within two hundred miles of the spot where the wrecks of Franklin’s vessels had been abandoned.
The Pandora at length succeeded in reaching La Roquette Island, and the expedition had, therefore, in a very brief space of time, attained a position only 120 miles from Franklin’s farthest point. Success had crowned their efforts so far. All on board were sanguine that they would ere long be basking in the warmth of a Californian autumn, [pg 99]and enjoying the good things of San Francisco. It was fated otherwise. They found an unbroken ice-field before them, extending for, so far as they could judge, an indefinite distance. They cruised about the island for three days, but matters only grew worse, and, indeed, the ice was moving slowly towards them. Reluctantly Captain Young decided to give up his attempt at a north-west passage, and return to England. On the way out of Peel Strait, with squalls, snow, and darkness, they had a most difficult task in handling the vessel, having to run races with the driving ice-packs so as to avoid being shut in. The ice-pack at Cape Rennel prevented a passage round it. Suddenly, a snowstorm which had been beating down upon them for the whole night, abated, and disclosed high precipitous cliffs hanging almost over them as it seemed, and “presenting,” says Captain Young in his “Journal,” “a most ghostly appearance, the horizontal strata seeming like the huge bars of some gigantic iron cage, and standing out from the snow face. In fact, it was the skeleton of a cliff, and we appeared to be in its very grasp. For a few minutes only we saw this apparition, and then all was again darkness.” They barely had room to pass between this cliff and the ice-pack, and then hastily ranged about, seeking some escape. After three hours of intense anxiety, a slight movement in the pack was reported from aloft, indicating a weak place in it, and through this gap the vessel at length forced her way. On September 10th they passed through a terrible gale; the heavy seas froze as they fell on the vessel’s sides, and the Pandora became “one huge icicle.” On reaching the Carey Islands they found, at a different spot to that previously visited, a cairn, erected by Captain Nares, from which they obtained a tin tube addressed to the Admiralty. The Pandora reached Portsmouth safely on October 16th, 1865, her cruise having been, all in all, one of the most successful of any made in the Arctic seas in a period of time so short.
CHAPTER XI.
The “Alert” and “Discovery.”
Nares’ Expedition—Wonderful Passage through Baffin’s Bay—Winter Quarters of the Discovery—Capital Game-bag—Continued Voyage of the Alert—Highest Latitude ever attained by a Ship—“The Sea of Ancient Ice”—Winter Quarters, Employments, and Amusements—The Royal Arctic Theatre—Guy Fawkes’ Day on the Ice—Christmas Festivities—Unparalleled Cold—Spring Sledging—Attempt to reach the Discovery—Illness and Death of Petersen—The Ravages of Scurvy—Tribute to Captain Hall’s Memory—Markham and Parr’s Northern Journey—Highest Latitude ever reached—Sufferings of the Men—Brave Deeds—The Voyage Home.
The first official communication received from Captain Nares, and written from Disco, stated that on the voyage out, owing to the heavy lading of the Arctic ships, they were extremely wet and uneasy, and that the hatchways had to be frequently battened down during the prevalence of the many heavy gales encountered. The Alert and Discovery each lost a whale-boat. A quantity of loose pack-ice had been met after passing Cape Farewell. Mr. Krarup Smith, the Inspector of North Greenland, and the other Danish officials, had been most courteous and obliging, and had engaged to supply from different stations all the Esquimaux dogs they might require.
Passing over some intermediate details not generally interesting, we find that Captain Nares decided to force his way through the “middle ice” of Baffin’s Bay, instead of proceeding by the ordinary route round Melville Bay. On July 24th they ran into the pack, and had the satisfaction, thirty-four hours afterwards, of having completed the passage of the middle ice, an unparalleled feat. “It will ne’er be credited in Peterhead,” said the astonished ice-quartermasters. At Cape York, icebergs, many of them grounded, were noted thickly crowded together. At the south-east point of Carey Island a reserve depôt of provisions, &c., was formed, and the record we have already mentioned as having been recovered by Captain Young was deposited in a cairn. Later, another note was left at Littleton Island. The first ice, in large quantities, was sighted off Cape Sabine on the 30th of July. The pack in the offing consisted of floes from five to six feet thick, with occasionally older and heavier floes, ten to twelve feet in thickness, but always much decayed and honeycombed. The ships were detained at Payer Harbour for three days, watching for an opening in the ice, getting under weigh whenever there appeared the slightest chance of proceeding onwards, but on each occasion being forced to return. On the 4th of August they were enabled to proceed twenty miles up Hayes Sound. A little later, and both ships were for the time hopelessly entangled, and the rudders and screws had to be unshipped. At this period they barely escaped a serious collision with a large iceberg. The repetition of many similar dangers, through which, however, the ships passed safely, would be wearisome to the reader. On August 24th, five miles off Cape Lieber, the pack obliged the vessels to enter Lady Franklin’s Sound, on the northern shore of which an indentation of the land gave promise of protection. On a nearer approach they discovered a well-protected harbour inside an island immediately west of Cape Bellot, against which the pack-ice of the channel rested. The next morning they were rejoiced to see a herd of nine musk-oxen feeding close by, all of which were killed. The vegetation was considerably richer than at any part of the coast visited north of Port Foulke, which Captain Nares considers “the Elysium of the Arctic regions.” The harbour was found to be perfectly suitable for winter quarters, and it was therefore decided to leave the Discovery there, while the Alert should push on alone. The Discovery was embedded in the ice for ten and a half months. Captain Stephenson, of that vessel, stated, in a paper read before the Royal Geographical Society, that their first care was to place on shore six months’ provisions and fuel, to guard against any possible accident to the ship. They were particularly fortunate in killing musk-oxen and smaller game. Before the darkness set in they had shot thirty-two of the former, and had at one time as much as 3,053 lbs. of frozen meat hanging up. The captain could not say much for its flavour: “it was so very musk.” Snow was piled up outside the ship fifteen to twenty feet thick. This and the layer on deck—mingled with ashes, which formed a kind of macadamised walk—kept the warmth in the vessel, and the temperature of the lower deck ranged from 48° to 56°. On October 10th they lost sight of the sun, and did not see it again for 135 days.