CAPTAIN ROBERT BARTLETT
In these last two expeditions another phase entered. With the close of my 1898–1902 expedition I had worked out the ultimate possibilities of sledging from a base south of the 79th parallel, and recognized that the pole could not be reached from such a base. The preliminary journey from the base to the most northern land made too serious a drain upon the energies of dogs and men to enable them to negotiate the final and most difficult part of the journey over the surface of the polar ocean. The only answer to the problem was a ship which would put me within striking distance of the pole.
The result was the Roosevelt, and in my last two expeditions the presence of a ship added to the personnel of my expedition the new element of ship’s officers and crew. Thus in the final evolution of my work my parties were made up of three elements: myself and my assistants for the exploration sledge-work; the ship’s officers and crew; and the Eskimos, these last being more numerous than both the others combined.
The Eskimo element is taken up more fully in another place, and I shall not go into it here. The selection of the ship’s personnel threw no burden of time or attention on my shoulders, as, with the exception of the chief engineer and his assistant, whom I myself selected, and who were Americans, I turned this matter over to Bartlett, himself a Newfoundlander, and held him responsible for a picked crew of these ideal, hardy ice-navigators.
In the general scheme of work it was not expected that any of this ship personnel should take part in the sledging expeditions. Bartlett’s eagerness to have a share in the sledge work, however, together with his personal qualifications, made him an invaluable addition to my field parties, and two or three of the men before the mast volunteered for, and did good, preliminary depot and hunting work.
My own particular work of selecting personnel was confined, therefore, to the limited number of my own assistants, and in the last expedition three of these, Henson, Percy, Marvin (I mention them in the order of length of service), were tried and faithful men from previous expeditions.
The day of large parties in successful polar work has passed. Effective results in these regions can, and in the future will be, obtained by very small parties. The records of some of the earlier expeditions show the fallacy of the popular idea that there is safety in numbers.
Franklin’s party of 138 men, the largest in the history of polar exploration, equipped with everything that the ample resources of the British Government could provide in that day, met with disaster, not a single member surviving to tell the fate which overtook them. Too large a party was, in my opinion, the direct cause of the utter loss of this expedition, and many of the tragedies which have preceded and followed it would not have occurred had the parties been small ones.
The whole situation in polar regions is against large parties. Starvation is inevitable when, as a result of the loss of ship or supplies, a large number of men find themselves dependent upon the resources of the country even for a short time, whereas a small company would have an abundant food-supply. On more than one occasion, on long sledge journeys with one or two companions, a single hare has made a hearty meal for us, which, followed by a good sleep, made it possible for us to travel some days more without meat. Had there been five or six of us, the portion of each would only have aggravated our hunger, and the strength and endurance of none would have been materially increased.
An illustration of this is an incident in the land beyond the ice-cap on my second trip across northern Greenland. Five hundred miles separated me and my companions from any other human beings. Then I wrote: