During the remainder of the winter, surveys were made; but Buddington did not continue the discipline of Hall. In May, Tyson, Meyers, and the two Esquimaux started on a sledging expedition, and got some musk oxen. Through these boat-expeditions, during the summer, discipline was greatly relaxed, and consequently the original plan of the voyage could not be carried out. The Polaris on the ice drifted, as other vessels have drifted, and came down Smith’s Sound to Kane’s former winter quarters.
A panic occurred in October, which nearly proved fatal to some of the members of the expedition. The ice “nipped” the Polaris, and it appears, from all accounts, that the ice-master who commanded (Buddington) completely lost his presence of mind, and commanded a general heaving overboard of stores and everything on deck. The order was obeyed, with results as might have been anticipated. The ice was broken up by the lifting and settling of the ship. The stores were scattered broadcast on the floe, and Captain Tyson, with a few of the most sensible men, left the vessel to arrange the stores, with the Esquimaux and their wives and children as assistants in the work.
They were all very busy sorting the supplies when a terrible rending and cracking was heard. Explosion succeeded explosion—the ice opened in many places—the Polaris was freed; and in a few moments, before the people on the ice could return, or indeed realise the situation, she had plunged into the darkness and disappeared!
This was a terrible catastrophe. There were nineteen men, women, and children actually adrift upon a mass of ice, with a very limited supply of provisions; and the only means of gaining terra firma two small boats. These were got ready, but the loose ice rendered their use impossible. The Polaris came in sight, but paid no attention to signals. So the voyagers remained drifting on the ice-floe, about four miles in circumference, but by no means assured from disruption, which might occur at any moment.
The ice continued to drift, and now and then pieces broke off. On the 16th the dreaded event occurred—the floe parted—the castaway party on one side, and the house, etcetera, on the other. But by means of the boats the stores were recovered, and then a fresh floe was occupied, whereon snow-huts were erected, Esquimaux fashion.
Time passed. October went and November came; food was scarce, and the exploring party were “allowanced.” But two seals, less cautious than their companions, were at length captured—nearly all the dogs had already been eaten, and fresh food was absolutely necessary. The seals caught were scientifically killed, the blood was drunk, and “the eyes,” says Captain Tyson, “given to the youngest child.” (The animal, being cut up, is divided into portions which are distributed by lot to the various candidates for the delicate morsels, of which the brain is considered the daintiest.)
We need scarcely detail the daily round and common tasks of the drifting party on the ice. In January Davis Strait was reached, and a ray of sunlight cheered them on the 19th, so the progress southward had been considerable. The German seamen did not behave well and caused considerable anxiety, but there was no long disturbance.
At the beginning of the month of March the ice reached Cumberland Gulf, and on the 11th of that month it broke up with direful noises, leaving the whole party on a small piece, which being fortunately very thick continued its journey southward very gently. Seals were now captured in abundance. One of the Esquimaux also shot a bear. Then the floe was quitted, and the pack ice reached. After that things became worse. A gale arose and blew away their tent and bedding, and unless they had all clung to the boat it would have been lost also. They saved it, but remained without shelter, half-frozen and in danger of starvation. At the end of April three steamers successively appeared, but although the castaways did all they could to attract attention they were not perceived until on the 30th another “steam sealer,” the Tigress, of Newfoundland, appeared and rescued them from their perilous position. They were all landed at Saint John’s on the 12th of May.
Meanwhile, as the Polaris had not appeared, the Tigress was commissioned by Captain Green, U.S.N., to seek her. She steamed up to Littleton Island, where an encampment of Esquimaux was discovered. The men were wearing clothing obtained from the Polaris, but after search and inquiry no after trace of the crew could be obtained, so Captain Green returned to Saint John’s. They reached New York afterwards, and heard that Buddington and his crew had been picked up by a whaler some months before.
The ill-fated Polaris had been abandoned in latitude 78 degrees 23 minutes North, and 73 degrees 21 minutes West. She had been rendered almost useless by the ice, and the Esquimaux were presented with the hull; but she foundered. The crew encamped during the winter, and in the summer they sailed down to Cape York, where they met the ice. But in Melville Bay a steamer was seen embedded in the ice. This vessel was the Ravenscraig, of Dundee, whose Captain, Allen, received them very kindly. He subsequently put some of them on a vessel bound for Dundee, whither they then proceeded, and came home from Liverpool to New York; the others came back a few weeks later. Thus ended the unfortunate Polaris expedition, which, but for the untimely death of Captain F. Hall, might have accomplished its object—the discovery of the North Pole.