THE SEPARATION OF THE CREW
“Unfortunately, two of these cracks ran through the places where the stern anchors had been planted, breaking their hold. The wind, still strong, now drove the vessel from the floe, and, the anchors dragging under the strain, she swung round to the forward hawser. The latter slipped, and the vessel was carried rapidly away from the ice. The night was black and stormy, and in a few moments the floe and its precious freight could no longer be seen through the drifting snow. Before the separation, it had been noticed that the floe was much broken on its edge; that the provisions and stores were separated from each other by rapidly widening cracks; that the men also were on different pieces of ice; that active efforts were being made to launch boats in order to bring the scattered people together. Several men were seen rushing toward the ship as she was leaving, but they failed to reach her. The voice of the steward, John Herron, was heard calling out, ‘Good-by, Polaris!’
“Nineteen persons were thus separated from the ship, including eight Eskimos and the baby of Hans and Hannah—fourteen men remained on board—‘This remnant of a crew, so suddenly reduced, gazed on each other for a few moments in silence—when the order was given to station the lookouts; the duties of the ship were resumed.’
“A few moments after the separation, a fireman who was below getting up steam reported that the vessel was leaking badly. Upon examination it was found that the water was pouring in so rapidly that it was feared that the fires would be put out before steam could be raised to work the pumps.
“All hands were immediately ordered to the large deck pumps, and a few pails of hot water started the four pumps. The captain called out, ‘Work for your lives, boys,’ and the crew set to work with a will. In spite of their utmost efforts, the leak still gained upon them. The engineers and firemen were urged to their utmost. Everything of a combustible character, including seal blubber, was thrown upon the fire, and at the end of an hour and ten minutes of the severest labor, the steam pumps were at last in working order. Nor was this a moment too soon, for at the moment the pumps began to work, the water was lapping over the floor of the fire-room.”
Captain Buddington awaited a favourable opportunity to beach the Polaris, and this was accomplished a few days later near Life-Boat Cove, where a comfortable house was built of the vessel for the winter.
Some Eskimos rendered them considerable assistance, and received suitable gifts in return.
“We have taken stock of our ammunition,” writes Captain Buddington in his journal, “and find that we can avail ourselves of about eight pounds of powder, which some of the men had stored away in their chests and powder-flasks. This is all we have on board, the powder-can having been also put off on the ice during the fearful night of the 15th; also all our Sharp’s cartridges, except some open (loose) ones which were found amongst the men’s things. One box of musket-cartridges we have, and plenty of shot and lead; also several shot guns. In fact, we are not altogether as bad off as we first supposed, and the only thing that we are short of is clothing. This, if we cannot get any game, we may feel considerably before spring comes on.”
The Eskimos from Etah made frequent visits, but could give them no information of the lost members of the party. The general opinion with Captain Buddington and his men was that Tyson had been able to effect a landing with his men, somewhere to the south, and that he would probably use his dogs, sleds, and boats to travel up the coast and rejoin the main party.
In the spring of 1873 two boats were carefully constructed from the material of the Polaris, and the party made preparations to reach Upernavik. On June 3, the boats, having been freighted and manned, got under way, and after an exciting journey of two hundred miles were picked up near Cape York by the Scotch whaler Ravenscraig.