Arrival of Esquimaux at the Brig—A Treaty Concluded—Hospitality on Board—Arctic Appetites—Sledge Journeys—A Break-down—Morton’s Trip—The Open Sea—The Brig hopelessly Beset—A Council Called—Eight Men stand by the Advance—Departure of the Rest—Their Return—Terrible Sufferings—A Characteristic Entry—Raw Meat for Food—Fruitless Journeys for Fresh Meat—A Scurvied Crew—Starving Esquimaux—Attempted Desertion—A Deserter brought back from the Esquimaux Settlements.
The arrival and visit of a number of Esquimaux at the brig caused some little excitement. They were fine specimens of the race, and evidently inclined for friendship. At first only one of them was admitted on board. His dress is described as a kind of hooded capôte or jumper of mixed blue and white fox-skins arranged with some taste, and booted trousers of white bear-skin, which at the end of the foot were made to terminate with the claws of the animal. Kane soon came to an understanding with this individual, and the rest were admitted to the brig, where they were hospitably treated. When offered, however, good fresh wheaten bread and corned pork, and large lumps of white sugar, they could not be induced to touch them, but much preferred gorging on walrus meat. They were greatly amazed at the coal on board—too hard for blubber, and so unlike wood. They were allowed to sleep in the hold. Next morning a treaty was made whereby they pledged themselves, before departing, to return in a few days with more meat, and to allow Kane to use their dogs and sledges in the proposed excursions.
Kane with a party attempted in the spring of 1854 a journey to the great glacier of Humboldt, from which point he had hoped “to cross the ice to the American side.” They had made some progress when the winter’s scurvy reappeared painfully among the [pg 239]party. The now soft snow made travelling very difficult for both men and dogs; indeed, the former sank to their waists, and the latter were nearly buried. Three of the men were taken with snow blindness; one was utterly, and another partially disabled. Kane was, while taking an observation for latitude, seized with a sudden pain, and fainted. His limbs became rigid, and he had to be strapped on the sledge. On May 5th he became delirious, and fainted every time he was taken from the tent to the sledge. The last man to give in, he owns that on this occasion he succumbed entirely, and that to five brave men—Morton, Riley, Hickey, Stephenson, and Hans—themselves scarcely able to travel, he owed his preservation. They carried him back to the brig by forced marches, and he long lay there in a very critical state. A few days after the return of the party, Schubert, one of the merriest and best liked of the little band, died. Dr. Hayes, the surgeon of the ship, worked zealously in the discharge of his duties, and with the better diet obtained in the summer—fresh seal-meat, reindeer, ptarmigan, and rabbits—the invalids gradually recovered strength, and set about their duties.
The most important sledge journey undertaken at this time was that made by Morton. After travelling a considerable distance, “due north over a solid area choked with bergs and frozen fields, he was startled by the growing weakness of the ice; its surface became rotten, and the snow wet and pulpy. His dogs, seized with terror, refused to advance. Then for the first time the fact broke upon him that a long dark band seen to the north beyond a protruding cape, Cape Andrew Jackson, was water.” He retraced his steps, and leaving Hans and his dogs, passed between Sir John Franklin Island and the narrow beach line, the coast becoming more wall-like and dark masses of porphyritic rock abutting into the sea. With growing difficulty he managed to climb from rock to rock in hopes of doubling the promontory and sighting the coasts beyond, but the water kept encroaching more and more on his track.
“It must have been an imposing sight as he stood at this termination of his journey looking out upon the great waste of waters before him. Not ‘a speck of ice,’ to use his own words, could be seen. There, from a height of 480 feet, which commanded a horizon of almost forty miles, his ears were gladdened with the novel music of dashing waves; and a surf breaking in among the rocks at his feet, stayed his further progress.... The high ridges to the north-west dwindled off into low blue knobs, which blended finally with the air. Morton called the cape which baffled his labours after his commander, but I have given it the more enduring name of ‘Cape Constitution.’ I do not believe there was a man among us who did not long for the means of embarking upon its bright and lonely waters. But he who may be content to follow our story for the next few months will feel as we did, that a controlling necessity made the desire a fruitless one.”
Morton had undoubtedly seen an open sea, but the water which he described we now know to be simply Kennedy Channel, a continuation of Smith Sound. He had reached a latitude (about 80° 30′) further north than any previous explorer of the Greenland coast.
MORTON DISCOVERS THE OPEN SEA.
A year and three months had passed since the starting of the expedition, and still the little brig was fast in the ice. The men were, as Kane calls it, “scurvy riddled” and utterly prostrated, their supplies were rapidly becoming exhausted, and Kane deter[pg 240]mined to hold a council of both officers and crew. At noon of August 26th all hands were called, and the situation fully explained to them, the doctor, however, counselling them to stay by the brig, although he gave them full permission to make any attempt at escape they might deem feasible. Eight out of seventeen resolved to stand by the vessel. Dr. Hayes and eight others determined to make an effort to reach the settlements. Kane divided their remaining resources, and they left on the 28th. One of them, George Riley, returned a few days afterwards, and, three and a half months later, the rest were only too glad to rejoin the vessel, after enduring many sufferings. On December 12th, says Kane, “Brooks awoke me with the cry of ‘Esquimaux again!’ I dressed hastily, and groping my way over the pile of boxes that leads up from the hold to the darkness above, made out a group of human figures, masked by the hooded jumpers of the natives. They stopped at the gangway, and, as I was about to challenge, one of them sprang forward and grasped my hand. It was Dr. Hayes. A few words, dictated by suffering, certainly not by any anxiety as to his reception, and at his bidding the whole party came upon deck. Poor fellows! I could only grasp their hands, and give them a brother’s welcome.” The thermometer stood at -50° (82° below freezing); they were covered with rime and snow, and were fainting with hunger. It was necessary to use caution in taking them in to the warm cabin, or it would have prostrated them completely. “Poor fellows,” says Kane, “as they threw open their Esquimaux garments by the stove, how they relished the scanty luxuries which we had to offer them! The coffee and the meat biscuit soup, and the molasses and the wheat bread, even the salt pork which our scurvy forbade the rest of us to touch—how they relished it all! For more than two months they had lived on frozen seal and walrus meat.” They were all in danger of collapse, and had long to be nursed very carefully. Dr. Hayes was much prostrated, and three of his frost-bitten toes had to suffer amputation.
Their hope at starting was that they might reach Upernavik, the nearest Danish settlement in Greenland, a distance of about one thousand miles, and that they might, at all events next spring, send succour to the party left behind. Dr. Kane furnished them with such necessaries as could be properly spared, with sledges: they were to take a life-boat previously deposited near Lyttelton Island, and a whale-boat which had been left at the Six-mile Ravine—a spot so called from being that distance from the brig. Before leaving Dr. Kane called them into the cabin, where in some nook or corner of the aft locker the careful steward had stowed a couple of bottles of champagne, the existence of which was only known to the commander and himself. One of these was drawn from its hiding-place, and in broken-handled tea-cups they exchanged mutual pledges.