The duty of communicating with the “Discovery” was entrusted to Egerton; and Rawson, who was naturally desirous of re-visiting his ship, was allowed to accompany him. Their sledge was dragged by a team of nine dogs, and the party was provisioned and equipped for an absence of ten days. If they failed in accomplishing their object in that time, and their supplies became exhausted, they could replenish their stock from the large depôt that had been established during the previous autumn at a point about midway between the two ships, in Lincoln Bay. Petersen, the Danish interpreter, accompanied the two officers in the capacity of dog driver.
In consequence of the very low temperature experienced during the first week in March, their time of departure had to be deferred. Sunday, the 12th of March, was the day eventually selected for the start of this the first sledging expedition of the season.
The temperature on that morning was low, but rose gradually towards noon, until it seemed inclined to remain stationary at 30° below zero.
There were further indications of a continuance of fine weather, from the day being bright and clear and the barometer steady. Letters to our friends on board the “Discovery” were hastily finished. Immediately divine service had been performed the colours were hoisted, and amidst the cheers of “all hands,” who had assembled on the floe to bid the travellers God speed, H.M. sledge “Clements Markham,” with its bright standard fluttering out bravely before a light breeze, started with the object of renewing intercourse with our comrades in the “Discovery.”
For the next two or three days our thoughts on board were constantly with the absent ones, especially as the temperature, shortly after their departure, had again fallen very low. This, however, caused us little uneasiness, for we knew that everything that lay in our power had been done to protect them from any sudden and extreme cold, and we all had the greatest confidence in the skill, discretion, and sound judgment of our two messmates. Many a silent prayer was offered up in their behalf, that they might accomplish their mission in safety, and return speedily with good news of those who, like ourselves, were wintering in the ice.
On the third day they returned unexpectedly with a sad tale of woe and suffering, and with the poor Dane utterly prostrate and helpless on the sledge. I cannot do better than relate the sad story in Lieutenant Egerton’s own words.
We read in his official report, that not five hours after they had left the ship “frost-bites became so numerous, that I thought it advisable to encamp.”
This was only the beginning of the story, for they appear to have passed a comparatively comfortable night.
At any rate they were up early the next morning and again under weigh; at about one o’clock, when they halted for lunch, Petersen complained of cramp in his stomach and was given some hot tea. He had no appetite, which perhaps was as well, for we read of the bacon, which is always used for lunch, “We were unable to eat it, being frozen so hard that we could not get our teeth through the lean.” They still continued their journey, encountering some very rough travelling, which necessitated severe physical labour on the part of the two officers. “The dogs were of little or no use in getting across these slopes, as it was impossible to get them to go up the cliff, and Petersen being unable to work, Lieutenant Rawson and I had to get the sledge along as best we could.” Towards the end of the day we read: “Petersen began to get rather worse, and was shivering all over, his nose being constantly frost-bitten, and at times taking five or ten minutes before the circulation could be thoroughly restored. Lieutenant Rawson had several small frost-bites, and I escaped with only one.”