In a short time we were in calm water in the channel between Littleton Island and the mainland. It was named by Inglefield, the first man to penetrate upper Smith Sound. In the channel between the island and the mainland lies the wreck of the old Polaris which broke the world’s record for farthest north, in 1871. On this island, Sir Allen Young, in the Pandora, left mail for the British North Polar Expedition. On the first Greely Relief Expedition of 1882, Beebe deposited a cache of provisions there. It has always received prominent mention in all Arctic journals dealing with this region, and Dr. Koelz and I were interested in seeing it at close quarters.
The wind was still blowing with great force, so hard in fact that I shut down the motor and rigged a sail with a tarpaulin and an oar, which made the boat go even faster than it did with the motor. In a few moments we were through the channel and bound up the coast for Cape Hatherton. For several hours we continued under sail until at last we were pretty close to the Cape. We then cut in for the shore and made our way through loose ice to the beach. We landed at five o’clock in the morning after a rather exciting voyage, to say the least.
Sleep now appeared about the most desirable sensation possible for human beings to experience and rolling our blankets on the hard ground we went to it. We slept for what seemed years, but we awakened eventually. Now the question was whether it was morning, afternoon or night. The never-setting midnight sun gave but little clew to the time, and our watches had stopped! The time went on and soon we did not know what day it was. This was an awful fix, as we would not know when the days we had planned to remain in this vicinity had elapsed. But we did not let the time question bother us, and we started to accomplish the tasks we had set ourselves.
Our primary object was to collect as many bird and fish specimens as possible, which we set about to do immediately. But another wish which we entertained, though it was subordinate to the first, was to make as high a latitude on the Greenland coast as our meager equipment and time, spared from our real objective, would warrant. With this goal in mind we set forth on what we considered to be our second day out from the ship. The gas which we had saved by sailing rendered a considerable trip under engine power practicable. Thus we set forth from our camp with all the gasolene we had, beyond a surplus to enable us to buck a storm if we had to on the way back to the ship from the camp. In an hour or so we were around Cape Hatherton and bound on up the coast. There was not much pack ice in sight except far to the westward, and the iceblink gave promise of more to the northward. A breeze from that direction also hindered our advance, but by noon we were off the mouth of Refuge Harbor. Here we were on the edge of Kane Sea, and we could see the glittering Polar pack slowly drifting southward. We crossed the entrance to the harbor in a few moments, and I hove away to round Cairn Point. At this juncture Koelz espied several large floes moving in towards the entrance of the harbor. Beyond them there were wide levels of half a mile or so between the scattered pans of the pack.
I was hoping that my companion might express a wish to go on to the most northern Eskimo village in the world—Anoritok, some five miles beyond Refuge Harbor, where some of the Smith Sound natives happened to be living. Possibly we might have done this had it not been for running ice off Cairn Point which Koelz considered a bit dangerous. Reluctantly we gave up the idea and headed back for Refuge Harbor. There the ice had not broken out as it usually does, and if the Bowdoin had been there she might have had great difficulty in reaching the open water beyond.
After a leisurely lunch we started back to our camp and arrived there some time in the evening, probably as the sun was bearing pretty well north. The next two days we spent in collecting specimens, and then Koo-e-tig-e-to arrived with a letter from the Commander requesting us to return to the ship, as he would have to start south in a short while and wanted us there in plenty of time. So once again our little boat put to sea; this time bound south—away from the glorious land of the midnight sun and the glittering ice fields. Our stay in the Arctic fairyland had been all too short. I realized with sorrow that in a few days we would be bound for civilization and the pleasant days in Etah and north of there would be but a memory.
On the way to Etah we stopped at Polaris beach where the crew of the Polaris wintered after the wreck of their ship. There we found some old pieces of iron belonging to that ship. We also stopped for a few moments on Littleton Island. But in a short time we had left the island and Cape Ohlsen astern. Cape Ohlsen recalls the name of one of Kane’s men who died close by. We were thankful that the bones of none of our men lay bleaching on this inhospitable coast. Thus we started onward filled with memories, until with a start I found we were off Sunrise Point. In a few moments we were in Etah and aboard the ship after a most enjoyable trip up the coast. We learned that it was August the 20th, thus we had been away five days.
CHAPTER XII
WE BREAK INTO SOCIETY
THE formation of new ice on the surface of Etah Fiord grimly brought home to us the dread reality that the relentless Arctic winter was now all but upon us. To flee before this dire warning was our only recourse, and the Commander ruefully gave the word to pack up and make all speed for home. The elements had barred our way to the great unknown area of the Polar Sea, but we had at least carried the outer ramparts through our new and untried means of attack by air. Now the time for temporizing had passed, and we must fly before young ice, snowstorms and September winds.
Thus it was with regret that we broke out the anchor from the mud of Etah Harbor on the morning of August 21st, and headed out through the channel, and across the walrus grounds towards Cape Alexander. There the usual squall met us, and this time with such force that we were forced to go into McCormick’s Bight, (Pandora Harbor), to await the abatement of the storm.