It would be undesirable to attempt the description in detail of the whole of the many sledge expeditions which were sent out in various directions from both vessels. Among the more important may be named that under Lieutenant Beaumont, of the Discovery, who, crossing the difficult, broken, and sometimes moving ice of Robeson Channel, explored the Greenland shores to lat. 82° 18′ N. Scurvy made its appearance in a virulent form among his men, only one thoroughly escaping its ravages. The party, in detachments, reached the depôt at Polaris Bay with the greatest difficulty, and not before two poor fellows had succumbed. Soon after the return journey of those who had proceeded furthest [pg 107]had commenced the whole party was attacked by the insidious disease, until at last Lieutenant Beaumont and two others had to drag the other four, who were rendered absolutely hors de combat. The sledge, with its living burden, had always to make the journey twice, and often thrice, over the same road, and that a rough and difficult route over broken and hummocky ice. “Nevertheless,” says Captain Nares, “the gallant band struggled manfully onwards, thankful if they made one mile a day, but never losing heart.” A relief party, consisting of Lieutenant Rawson and Dr. Coppinger, with Hans, an Esquimaux, and a dog-sledge, went out in search of them, and met them providentially, just as even the two hardiest of the men were giving in. Indeed, for part of the journey the hauling was performed entirely by the three officers. How thankful were they to at length reach a pleasant haven—Polaris Bay, the spot so intimately connected, as we shall hereafter see, with the memory of poor Hall, the American explorer, and where Captain Stephenson, of the Discovery, had a little while before performed a thoughtful and graceful act in erecting over his grave a tablet and head-board! At Polaris Bay most of the invalids soon recruited, and some of this happy result was due to the fact that those able to get about were successful in shooting game enough to furnish a daily ration of fresh meat. When they eventually reached their vessel they had been absent 132 days, a long outing in the Arctic regions.
There were so many parties in the field at one time that we must confine ourselves very much to results, as our narrative would otherwise be a series of repetitions. Lieutenant Archer, of the Discovery, explored Lady Franklin Sound, proving that it terminates at a distance of sixty-five miles from the mouth with lofty mountains and glacier-filled valleys; while Lieutenant Fulford and Dr. Coppinger examined Petermann Fiord, finding it terminate in the precipitous cliff of a glacier. A seam of excellent coal, 250 yards long and over eight yards thick, was found near the winter quarters of the Discovery. Lieutenant Aldrich, of the Alert, made a detailed exploration of the northern shores of Grinnell Land for 220 miles, the main gist of his discoveries being that there was no appearance of land to its northward; and no doubt some will see in this another argument in favour of the “open” Polar Sea theory, to which we have already alluded. When, on his return, he was met by a relief party under Lieutenant May, only one of his men was able to drag with him at the ropes. Four men were being carried, while two struggled on by the side of the sledge. The scurvy here, as with all the parties, attacked the men, leaving the officers scatheless.
The journey, however, which we are about to briefly describe, was the most interesting of any undertaken on the expedition under review. Commander Markham and Lieutenant Parr, pushing forward almost due north, over and among the stupendous masses of ice which covered the Polar Sea, after many a weary struggle reached the highest latitude ever attained—viz., 83° 20′ 26″ N. Parry has now to resign the place of honour which he had held for close on half a century.
This division was known as the “Northern,” in contra-distinction to the “Western,” the “Greenland,” and others, and consisted of thirty-three officers and men, while an additional sledge, with four men, accompanied them for a few days to form a depôt of provisions some distance from the ship for use on their return should they have run short. Of the thirty-three engaged, it was not supposed that all would proceed to the furthest [pg 108]point; but Dr. Moss, and Mr. White one of the engineers, having charge of the third and fourth sledges, went with the understanding that they should assist the party to pass the heavy barrier of stranded floe-bergs bordering the coast. Each of the sledges had its own name; indeed, this was true of all those employed. Those of the northern division were the Marco Polo, Victoria, Bulldog, and Alexandra. Two boats, equipped and provisioned for seventy days, were taken. In an interesting paper read before a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society by Captain Markham, on December 12th, 1876, he stated that the sledges to which they gave a decided preference were what are commonly called the eight-man sledges, each crew consisting of an officer and seven men. The extreme weight of these when packed and fully equipped for an extended journey, on leaving the ship, was 1,700lbs., or at the rate of 220lbs. to 240lbs. per man to drag. The tents, each sledge crew being provided with one, were eleven feet in length, affording a little under fourteen inches space for each man to sleep in, the breadth of the tent being about the length of a man. The costume was composed of duffle, a woollen material resembling thick blanket, over which was worn a suit of duck to act as a “snow repeller.” Their feet were encased in blanket wrappers, thick woollen hose, and mocassins. Snow spectacles were invariably worn. After their first adoption they were comparatively exempt from snow blindness. They slept in duffle sleeping bags, and their tent robes were made of the same material. They had three meals a day. Breakfast during the intensely cold weather was always discussed in their bags. It consisted of a pannikin full of cocoa, and the same amount of pemmican with biscuit. The pemmican was always mixed with a proportion of preserved potatoes. After marching for about five or six hours a halt was called for luncheon. This meal [pg 109]consisted of a pannikin of warm tea, with 4ozs. of bacon and a little biscuit to each man. When the weather was intensely cold, or there was any wind, this meal was a very trying one. They were frequently compelled to wait as long as an hour and a half before the tea was ready, during which time they had to keep continually on the move to avoid frost-bite. The question, “Does it boil?” was constantly heard; and the refractory behaviour of the kettle tried the unfortunate cook’s temper and patience to the utmost. After the day’s march—sometimes ten to eleven, and even twelve working hours—had terminated, and every one was comfortably settled in his bag, supper, consisting of tea and pemmican, was served, after which pipes were lighted, and the daily allowance of spirits issued to those who were not total abstainers. The mid-day tea was found most refreshing and invigorating, and it was infinitely preferred by the men to the old custom of serving half the allowance of grog at that time.
SUNSHINE IN THE POLAR REGIONS.
The party started on April 3rd (1876) from the vessel, and for a few days, although the route was difficult, made fair progress. The men were in good health and spirits, and, except a few trifling cases of snow blindness, there were no casualties to report. The reader will not need to be informed that snow blindness is produced by the intense glitter of the sunlight on the snow crystals. Even as early as April 6th we read in Markham’s “Journal”[17] of a beautiful sunny day, when the temperature was 35° below zero, and everything frozen stiff and hard. When as far as the eyes can reach in any direction there is nothing but a dazzlingly white field of snow or snow-covered hummocks, the effect is extremely painful, and, indeed, would soon render them weak and sore, and eventually blind, but for the use of “goggles” in some form. In the various journals of the expedition we read of different kinds, made of coloured or smoked glass, &c. The writer has seen among the natives of Northern Alaska, and has himself used, wooden goggles. Covering each eye is an oval piece of wood, usually painted black, scooped out like and about the size of the bowl of a dessert-spoon, with a narrow, straight slit cut through the middle. These, with the leather strips by which they are tied on, look clumsy enough, but were found effectual in use. Among natives even, accustomed to the glare on the snow, who had neglected their use in spring, one might often note those with swollen, red, and weak eyes.
To return to our expedition. On reaching a depôt made at Cape Joseph Henry (Grinnell Land), the point from which they would leave the land, the party was re-arranged; only fifteen men with three sledges, carrying a weight of 6,079 pounds in all, were to form the northern party, which, under Markham and Parr, would proceed direct “to sea.” It is needless to say that it was a sea of ice, and very ancient ice also, making the travelling correspondingly difficult from the enormous size of the hummocks and extent of their fields. Perhaps the entries appended to each day’s travel in Markham’s “Journal” will give as good an idea of the difficulty and the tortuous nature of their route, and of the frequency of their trips over the same road being duplicated and triplicated, as any direct description. We find constantly entries like the following:—“Course and distance made good north four miles. Distance marched, thirteen miles.” This is a mild example. It was found impossible to move the whole of their heavy loads at one time. Indeed, during a large part of the journey but one sledge at a time could be dragged forward. This entailed returning twice, and in effect making five trips over the same route, thus: forward with number one; return and forward with number two; return and forward with number three, the process being repeated as long as the endurance of the party was equal to it. One mile of progress became therefore five of actual travel; in some cases, where the parties on the return journeys had become enfeebled, and had to be carried on the sledges, three returns had to be made by the working members, thus entailing seven trips over the same route. Markham’s “Journal” for April 10th has, “Distance made good, one mile. Distance marched, seven.” On the 12th it was as one and a half to nine, on the 17th as one and a quarter to nine, and on the 18th as one to ten, the latter taking ten hours to accomplish. The writer can understand all this well, having [pg 111]in a minor degree had the same experiences in Northern Alaska, where the winters are only a shade less severe than in these extreme latitudes.[18]
The men were now dragging 405 lbs. apiece, and the exertion and severe climate were beginning to tell upon them. The symptoms of scurvy were plain enough, and on the 19th we do not wonder to find Markham determining to leave one of his boats. “Before quitting the boat an oar was lashed to the mast, and the mast stepped, yard hoisted, and decorated with some old clothes,” in order that they might be sure to find it on their return. No wonder the men worked a little livelier shortly afterwards, for they were thus relieved of dragging a matter of 800 lbs. Two of them, however, were already prostrated with scurvy, and had to be carried on the sledges. In journeying to the northward the route seldom lay over smooth ice, and the somewhat level floes, or fields, were thickly studded over with rounded, blue-topped ice humps, ten or twenty feet high, laying sometimes in ranges, but more often separated, at a distance of 100 to 200 yards apart, the depressions between being filled with snow, deeply scored into ridges by the wind, the whole composition being well comparable to a suddenly frozen oceanic sea. Separating the floes were “hedges” of ice masses, often forty to fifty feet high, or more, thrown together in irregular and chaotic confusion, and where there was little choice of a road over, through, or round about them. Among and around these, again, were steep-sided snow-drifts, sloping down from the highest altitude of the piled-up masses to the general level. “The journey,” says Captain Nares in the general report, “was consequently an incessant battle to overcome ever-recurring obstacles, each hard-won success stimulating them for the next struggle. A passage way had always to be cut through the squeezed-up ice with pick-axes, an extra one being carried for the purpose, and an incline picked out of the perpendicular side of the high floes, or roadway built up, before the sledges, generally one at a time, could be brought on. Instead of advancing with a steady walk, the usual means of progression, more than half of each day was expended by the whole party facing the sledge and pulling it forward a few feet at a time.” Occasionally a little “young ice,” which had formed between the split-up floes of ancient date, would afford them better travelling, but this luxury was not often found. As the warmer weather approached—anything above zero was considered warm—they were much troubled by wind, snow-fall, and foggy weather. On April 30th so thick was it that they could scarcely see the length of two sledges ahead, and as they were surrounded by hummocks they were obliged to halt, for fear of becoming entangled. It would be wearisome to the reader to enlarge upon similar experiences, which were of daily occurrence.
