The travelling to-day was excessively heavy, in consequence of the unevenness of the floes and the deep soft snow with which they were covered. After lunch we arrived at and crossed some “veritable palæocrystic floes”—apparently of gigantic thickness, and studded with numerous rounded snow hillocks; the height of some of the latter being as much as thirty feet above the surface of the floe. In crossing one of these, the “Victoria” sledge capsized, but was soon righted without damaging either the sledge or the boat, or injuring the invalid who was lashed on top, and who received only a slight shaking. As we proceeded northwards we opened out the land to the westward, and a large bay which has since been called Clements Markham Inlet. A S.E. breeze sprang up in the evening shortly before we halted, which, strange to say, sent the temperature down rapidly to -33°, and we had, in consequence, to be cautious about frost-bites.
April 19th.—A fine clear day. Our bags last night were rendered a little more habitable by having been exposed during the day to the heat of the sun, which was sufficiently powerful to extract the greater part of the moisture which had been absorbed by them. Our plan is on fine days to suspend as much as we possibly can from the masts and yards of the boats, and to spread the gear out over the sledges, so that it may dry as we travel along. This answers admirably and enables us to pass more comfortable nights.
After toiling hard for three and a half hours, during which time we had advanced the sledges barely a quarter of a mile, I came to the determination to abandon our largest boat. It was heart-breaking to witness the men slaving in their endeavours to drag on the heavy sledge and boat—to see the continual standing pulls, the incessant “one, two, three, haul,” and no result.
I did not arrive at this decision until after very mature deliberation. My conviction was that amongst such ice as that over which we were travelling, should a disruption occur, our boats would be of little service to us, except as a means of ferrying from one floe to another. For this purpose I retain the smaller boat.
Leaving the boat in as conspicuous a position as possible, with her mast stepped and yard triced up, and having obtained a round of angles in order to fix her position, so as to facilitate our finding her on the return journey, the march was resumed, every one well pleased at being rid of the incubus, as the large boat was always regarded. We travelled over deep and uneven snow ridges, and experienced great difficulty in getting from one floe to another, on account of the perpendicular drop. Before halting we got on to some young ice amongst the hummocks, along which we rattled gaily, actually performing a distance of about half a mile in something like two hours! This is good work for us. It must be remembered that we have to advance three sledges, and to do this we have to walk over the same road five times!
If our invalids would only show some symptoms of improvement we should have more hope of reaching a higher latitude; but at present they compensate in weight and loss of power for the abandonment of the boat. I regard each man carried as about 200 lbs. extra weight, and the loss of their services on the drag-ropes is about equal to another 200 lbs. weight to be added—therefore the two invalids reckon as much as 800 lbs., exactly equivalent to the weight of the deserted boat! So long as they remain ill, we gain nothing upon the actual weights dragged before their sickness commenced. Instead of their getting better, we have the prospect of an increased sick list, for this evening Alfred Pearce was compelled to fall out from the drag-ropes, suffering from a badly swollen ankle, and exhibiting in fact the same symptoms as the other men.
April 20th.—This morning we were unable to make a start in consequence of the thickness of the weather. Snow was falling slightly, but the fog was so dense that it was impossible to see the length of the sledge ahead. As I had brought with me one of Dickens’s works, “The Old Curiosity Shop,” I read aloud to the men, who were much interested in the story.
By 2 P.M., the weather having cleared slightly, we determined to push on and find our way through the fog and hummocks as best we could. The snow was very deep and the hummocks appeared to be interminable. The task of selecting a road was by no means easy—nothing to be seen but hummocks in every direction. At eight o’clock, the fog lifting a little, we succeeded in extricating ourselves from our difficulties, and crossing a large heavy floe got on to a lead of young ice which gave us good travelling. Although this young ice enabled us to travel quicker, and rendered the work of dragging easier, still I was sorry to see it, as I was rather apprehensive that the pack might break up earlier than we anticipated, and so place us in an exceedingly awkward predicament. We halted and camped at half-past ten, having (considering the lateness of our start) performed a fair day’s work.
April 21st.—A keen piercing wind from the northward. Travelling much the same. Although the temperature was only 17° below zero, the cold was more intense than we had yet felt it since leaving the ship. The wind seemed to cut us in two, and was the cause of numerous superficial frost-bites. One man, Thomas Simpson, was rather severely frost-bitten in the big toe, which was, however, quickly attended to and brought round.
Our greatest enemies, whilst crossing a floe of any extent, were the numberless cracks and fissures in the ice, radiating in all directions and treacherously concealed by a covering of snow. Into these we frequently fell, and as some of them were of great depth it seemed almost miraculous that we escaped without a fractured limb! These cracks must be produced either by enormous pressure or intense cold.