A SLEDGE PARTY STARTING FOR CAPE JOSEPH HENRY.
They had on May 11th exceeded by several days the time for which they were provisioned, and so many of the men were, from the weakening effects of scurvy, actually hors de combat, or as nearly as possible useless, that it was determined to make a camp in which to leave the invalids, while the rest should push on for one final “spurt.” On the morning of the 12th, therefore, leaving the cooks to attend upon the sufferers, the [pg 112]remainder of the party, carrying the sextant and artificial horizon, and also the sledge-banners and colours, started northwards. “We had,” says Markham, “some very severe walking, struggling through snow up to our waists, over or through which the labour of dragging a sledge would be interminable, and occasionally almost disappearing through cracks and fissures, until twenty minutes to noon, when a halt was called. The artificial horizon was then set up, and the flags and banners displayed, these fluttering out bravely before a S.W. wind, which latter, however, was decidedly cold and unpleasant. At noon we obtained a good altitude, and proclaimed our latitude to be 83° 20′ 26″ N., exactly 399½ miles from the North Pole. On this being duly announced, three cheers were given, with one more for Captain Nares; then the whole party, in the exuberance of their spirits at having reached their turning-point, sang the ‘Union Jack of Old England,’ the grand Palæcrystic sledging chorus, winding up, like loyal subjects, with ‘God Save the Queen.’ These little demonstrations had a good effect on the spirits of the men, and on [pg 113]their return to the camp a second celebration, in which even the invalids joined, occurred, when a magnum of whisky, that had been sent by Scotch friends to be consumed at the highest latitude attained, was produced, and the steaming grog, so dear to the sailor’s heart, was brewed. At supper, a hare, shot by Dr. Moss shortly before they parted company at Depôt Point, was added to their usual fare of pemmican, and in the evening, cigars, presented to them by Lieutenant May before leaving the ship, were issued to each man. The day was brought to a close with songs, and general hilarity prevailed.
ARRIVAL OF LIEUTENANT PARR ON BOARD THE “ALERT.”
Markham speaks of their attempt almost as a failure. It was, however, the greatest success of the expedition, although unhappily purchased at the expense of one life. Passing over the return journey, we find that on the evening of June 8th Lieutenant Parr, who had volunteered to take singly and alone the sad intelligence that nearly the whole party were prostrated with scurvy, arrived at the ship. Commander Markham and the few men who were able to keep on their feet had succeeded by veritable “forced marches” in conveying the invalids to the neighbourhood of Cape Joseph Henry, thirty miles distant from the ship; but each day was adding to the intensity of the disease, and lessening the [pg 114]power of those still able to work. Parr, with brave determination, started alone, with only an alpenstock and a small allowance of provisions, and completed his long and solitary walk over a very rough icy road, deeply covered with newly-fallen snow, within twenty-four hours. If, indeed, a large part of Markham’s party could have done it at all, it would have taken them, with their heavy loads, a week to ten days to accomplish the same distance. No time was lost in making arrangements for their succour, and Captain Nares himself, with two strong detachments, started at midnight. By making forced marches, Lieutenant May, Dr. Moss, and a seaman, with a light dog-sledge, laden with appropriate medical stores, reached the camp fifty hours from the time that Lieutenant Parr had left it, but, unfortunately, too late to save the life of George Porter, gunner R.M.A., who had expired a few hours previously, and was already buried in the snow. Of the original seventeen members of the party, only five—the two officers and three of the men—were able to drag the sledges. Three others manfully kept to their feet to the last, but were so weak that they were constantly falling, and sometimes fainting, while the remaining eight had utterly succumbed, and had to be carried on the sledges.
This is not the place for a medical discussion. Captain Nares’ conduct in partially neglecting to supply the parties with sufficient of that great anti-scorbutic, lime-juice, has been severely handled, and not without some show of justice. On the other hand, it must be remembered that the disease attacked a part of the crews who had remained on both vessels and had been well supplied with all dietary and medical necessaries. At one time thirty-six cases were under treatment on the Alert, making it resemble a naval hospital.
Captain Nares may be allowed to give in brief his reasons for returning home that season. The enfeebled state of his crew precluded the hope that, even when recovered, they would accomplish as much as, or at all events more than, had been already done. He believes that from any position in Smith’s Sound attainable by a ship it would be impossible to advance nearer the Pole by sledges. Furthermore, that all that he could have hoped to accomplish by stopping another winter was perhaps an extended exploration of Grant Land to the south-westward, and Greenland for perhaps fifty miles further to the north-eastward or eastward. And to his credit it must be scored that he brought the vessels home in nearly as good condition as they would have returned from any foreign station. After many a fight with the elements and many an encounter with the ice, the Alert and Discovery reached our shores safely on October 27th, 1876. The reader knows the rest, and if he is of our mind will not grudge the honours bestowed on men who, if they had not accomplished all that was expected, had at least done more than any of their predecessors in the frozen fields of the far north.