The Last Secrets: The Final Mysteries of Exploration

by John Buchan

These sledging parties on the way to Cape Columbia were soon organized, and, in addition, hunting parties were sent out, and a supply of fresh meat for the winter was obtained. "Imagine us," Peary wrote, "in our winter home on the Roosevelt ... the ship held tight in her icy berth, a hundred and fifty yards from the shore, the ship and the surrounding world covered with snow, the wind creaking in the rigging, whistling and shrieking round the corners of the deck houses, the temperatures ranging from zero to sixty below, and the ice-pack in the channel outside groaning and complaining with the movement of the tides."

In these words Peary gives us an excellent picture of the explorers' winter home—a home upon which the sun never shone for many months, but which, in spite of the darkness, was a home of unceasing industry and preparation. And among the innumerable activities that took place, none was more important than the task of attending to the dogs. Early in November, Peary had become anxious about these all-important factors of his expedition. Over fifty of them were already dead, and a few days later only 160 dogs out of the 245 with which he had arrived were left. A change of diet from whale to walrus meat put an end to these appalling losses; but Peary's anxiety until he discovered a way to prevent them can be easily imagined. For without any adequate supply of dogs he knew all too well that neither he nor any one else would ever reach the Pole.

By the end of the autumn season snow igloos had been built on the track to Cape Columbia. We have the best authority—namely, Peary's—for saying that one of these snow-houses can be built by four good workmen in an hour. Into this shelter the traveller literally crawls, for the only means of entrance is a hole at the bottom of one side, and when the last man of the party has got in, this opening is closed up by a block of snow already cut for the purpose.

Except for one most alarming experience, when in a terrific gale the ice made a stupendous attempt against the invading ship, the winter was spent rather with anxiety about the future than with worry about the present. No wonder that Peary speculated over what awaited him when he started upon his great march. After leaving Cape Columbia, over 400 miles separated him from his goal, and these miles had to be travelled over the ice of the Polar sea. "There is no land," he writes, "between Cape Columbia and the North Pole, and no smooth and very little level ice." But even ice through which the traveller must sometimes pick-axe his way is not the most serious impediment to those who would reach the Pole. The great obstacles—the ever-present source of anxiety—are the "leads" which constantly appear. These "leads" are really patches of open water, varying in extent, which the winds and tides cause in the ice's movement. For no reason that is apparent, these dangerous obstacles suddenly block the explorer's advance, and little can be done save to wait for them to remove themselves. These "leads" were to be Peary's greatest impediment in his march, and were destined to be fatal to one valued member of his party.

The final attack on the Pole began on 15th February, 1909, when Bartlett, with a pioneer party, left the Roosevelt, and a week later Peary started on his way. At this time 7 members of the expedition, 19 Eskimos, 140 dogs, and 28 sledges, divided into various parties, were engaged in the great effort to reach the Pole. It was arranged that all of these parties should meet Peary at Cape Columbia on the last day of February; and on that day Bartlett and Borop started from the cape with advance parties. The duties of these advance parties were as onerous as they were important. For it was to Bartlett that Peary looked for a trail by which the main party could travel.

On the second day's march, after Peary had left Cape Columbia and the land behind him, he met with his first open "lead," and a slight delay occurred. But on the following day this "lead" was covered with young ice, and Peary determined to cross it. "If the reader," he wrote, "will imagine crossing a river on a succession of gigantic shingles, one, two, or three deep, and all afloat and moving, he will perhaps form an idea of the uncertain surface over which we crossed this 'lead.' Such a passage is distinctly trying, as any moment may lose a sledge and its team, or plunge a member of the party into the icy water." And later on, when Borop was crossing an open crack, his dogs fell into the water, and the loss both of the dogs and the sledge with its invaluable load of provisions was only prevented by Borop's exceptional quickness and strength.

The explorers had advanced nearly 50 miles from Cape Columbia, when they were held up by a big "lead," which refused most obstinately to cover itself with ice strong enough to bear the sledges. For a week this open water delayed the expedition, and Peary had good reason to wonder if his most careful preparation and organization were once more to miss the success that they deserved. On 11th March, however, the parties managed to cross the "lead," and on the march that followed they crossed the 84th parallel.

When the explorers started on this journey, Peary did not announce how far each one of his companions was to accompany him on the march, and presently Dr. Goodsell and MacMillan, with Eskimos, sledges, and dogs, turned back. Then the main expedition consisted of 16 men, 12 sledges, and 100 dogs. On 19th March, Peary revealed the programme he intended to follow to Bartlett, Marvin, Borop, and Henson. First of all Borop was to turn back; five marches farther on Marvin was to go; and after another five marches Bartlett was to leave the Polar party, which would then consist of 6 men, 40 dogs, and 5 sledges.

Unlike most programmes, this one of Peary's was faithfully carried out. Borop returned when 85° 23' was reached, and during the next days the explorers advanced so rapidly that they succeeded in passing both Nansen's and the Duke of the Abruzzi's record for farthest north. In turn, first Bartlett and then Marvin started upon the homeward track, and Peary was left with 4 Eskimos—Egingwah, Seegloo, Ootah, and Ooqueah—Henson, 5 sledges, and 40 dogs.

Of these Eskimos, Ooqueah was the only one who had not been in any previous expedition; but all the same he was the most romantic of the party, because he was intent upon winning the rewards that would enable him to marry the girl of his choice. Glimmering before his eyes Ooqueah saw a whale-boat, a rifle, and other prizes which Peary had promised to those who went with him to the farthest point. Not for a moment was there any doubt about Ooqueah's keenness, for he was spurred on by two of the greatest incentives that any young man can have—a desire to be wealthy, and a desire to marry.