Four long weary months were to elapse before a relief came to break the monotonous situation. On May 16, 1881, the Jeannette stood in latitude 76° 43´ 20´´ N., longitude 161° 53´ 45´´ E., land was sighted to the westward, which proved to be an island (later named Jeannette Island), the first that had greeted the weary eyes of officers and men since March 24, 1880, when the ship had been in sight of Wrangell Land. On May 24, a second island was seen. On the 31st, Melville, Dunbar, Nindemann, and three others started with a dog sledge and provisions, for an investigation of the newly discovered island. The party landed on June 3, hoisted the American flag, and formally took possession of the land in the name of the United States and giving it the name of Henrietta Island. They built a cairn and deposited a record. The journey had been fraught with great danger and hardship. “The ice between the ship and the island had been something frightful,” writes De Long. “After digging, ferrying and its attendant loading and unloading, arm-breaking hauls, and panic-stricken dogs made their journey a terribly severe one. Near the island the ice was all alive, and Melville left his boat and supplies, and, carrying only a day’s provisions and his instruments, at the risk of his life went through the terrible mass, actually dragging the dogs, which from fear refused to follow their human leaders. If this persistence in landing upon this island, in spite of the superhuman difficulties he encountered, is not reckoned a brave and meritorious action, it will not be from any failure on my part to make it known.”
The approach of spring had revealed to Dr. Ambler a pale and stricken crew. Danenhower had long been a sufferer; Lieutenant Chipp was ill; Mr. Collins was recuperating slowly from a severe illness; Alexai, the Alaskan, was suffering from ulcers, and others of the crew showed incipient signs of scurvy.
THE “JEANNETTE” SINKS
On the 12th of June, 1881, while in 77° 15´ north latitude, and 155° east longitude, the Jeannette experienced a final pressure from the ice, from which she sank within a few hours. As soon as it was realized that her fate was sealed, orders were issued that all provisions, boats, etc., should be transported to a safe distance upon the ice; this was done without confusion or excitement. “When the order was given to abandon the ship,” writes one of the officers, “her hold was full of water, and as she was keeling twenty-three degrees to starboard at the time the watch was on the lower side of the spar deck.”
The men encamped upon the ice, and by four o’clock on the morning of the 13th, “amid the rattling and banging of her timbers and iron work, the ship righted and stood almost upright, the floes that had come in and crushed her slowly backed off, and she sank with slightly accelerated velocity; the yard arms were stripped and broken upward parallel to the masts; and so, like a great, gaunt skeleton clapping its hands above its head, she plunged out of sight. Those of us who saw her go down,” adds Chief Engineer Melville, “did so with mingled feelings of sadness and relief. We were now utterly isolated, beyond any rational hope of aid; with our proper means of escape, to which so many pleasant associations attached, destroyed before our eyes; and hence it was no wonder we felt lonely, and in a sense that few can appreciate. But we were satisfied, since we knew full well that the ship’s usefulness had long ago passed away, and we could now start at once, the sooner the better, on our long march to the south.”
The following week was spent in preparations for the retreat; the route was laid due south, it being the intention of Captain De Long to make for the Lena River, after a brief stop at the New Siberian Island. The day’s march was accomplished under the most trying circumstances, the lateness of the season and the ruggedness of the ice necessitating road-making, bridging, and rafting, or dragging the loads through slush and water that lay knee-deep in the path. The foot-gear of the men became practically useless as a result of constant wettings, and every device was resorted to to keep the bare feet from contact with the ice. “A large number,” writes Melville, “marched with their toes protruding through their moccasins; some with the ‘uppers’ full of holes, out of which the water and slush spurted at every step. Yet no one murmured so long as his feet were clear of ice, and I have here to say that no ship’s company ever endured such severe toil with such little complaint. Another crew, perhaps, may be found to do as well; but better, never!”
Captain G. W. De Long
From a portrait in the possession of A. Operti, Esq.
DAILY ROUTINE OF OFFICERS AND CREW