When the funeral procession had returned to the ship, all moved about in the performance of their duty in gloomy silence. It is sad to record that the great affliction caused by the death of Hall was rendered more intense by the moral condition of the surviving party. Two hideous specters had early in the expedition made their appearance on board the "Polaris." They were the spirits of Rum and Discord! Commander Hall had forbidden the admission of liquor on shipboard, but it had come with the medicines whether of them or not. It was put under the key of the locker, but it broke out—no, we will not do injustice even to this foulest of demons: an officer, selected to guard the safety and comfort of the ship's company, broke open the locker and let it out. This brought upon him a reprimand from Captain Hall, and later a letter of stricture upon his conduct. The doctor's alcohol could not be safely kept for professional purposes, which raised "altercations" on board. So Rum and Discord, always so closely allied, went stalking through the ship, with their horrid train. Insubordination, of course, was from the first in attendance. Hall had, it would seem, in part persuaded into submission this ghastly specter. Where, on shipboard, the lives of all depend upon submission to one will, rebellion becomes, in effect, murder. We have seen that Dr. Kane argued down this bloody intruder by a pistol in a steady hand leveled at the head of the chief rebel; and that Dr. Hayes saved his boat party by the same persuasive influence over Kalutunah. But Hall was not reared in the navy, and was cast in a gentle mold.
On the Sunday following the burial of Hall it was announced that from that time the Sunday service would be omitted. "Each one can pray for himself just as well," it was remarked. The faithful chaplain, however, seems to have held religious service afterward for such as pleased to attend. Hall had taken great pleasure in it, and it had, we think, attended every Arctic expedition through which we have carried the reader.
After such a purpose to dismiss public worship from the vessel we are not surprised to learn that "the men made night hideous by their carousings." Nature without had ceased to distinguish night from day, and our explorers did not follow the example of their predecessors in this region, and make day and night below decks by requiring the light to be put out at a stated hour. So the noise and card-playing had all hours for their own. Under these circumstances, as if to make the "Polaris" forecastle the counterpart of one of our city "hells," pistols were put into the hands of the men. Discord was now armed, and Alcohol was at the chief place of command.
The Christmas came, but no religious service with it. New-Year's day brought nothing special. The winter dragged along but not the wind, which roared in tempests, and rushed over the floe in currents traveling fifty-three miles an hour. It played wild and free with the little bark which had intruded upon its domains, breaking up the ice around it, and straining at its moorings attached to the friendly berg.
Spring came at last. Hunting became lively and successful. His majesty, the bear, became meat for the hunters after a plucky fight, in which two dogs had their zeal for bear combat fairly subdued. Musk-oxen stood in stupid groups to be shot. White foxes would not be hit at any rate. Birds, trusting to their spread wings, were brought low, plucked and eaten. Seals coming out of their holes, and stretching themselves on the ice to enjoy dreamily a little sunshine, to which they innocently thought they had a right as natives of the country, were suddenly startled by the crack of the rifles of Hans and Joe, and often under such circumstances died instantly of lead. It seemed hardly fair. In fact we are confident that the animals about Polaris Bay contracted a prejudice against the strangers, except the white foxes, who could not see what hurt these hunters did—at least to foxes—and they were of a mind that it was decided fun to be hunted by them.
The Esquimo have been in this high latitude in the not distant past, as a piece of one of their sledges was found.
Soon after Hall's death the chief officers had mutually pledged in writing that, "It is our honest intention to honor our flag, and to hoist it upon the most northern point of the earth." During the spring and summer some journeys northward were made, but were not extended beyond regions already visited. The eye which would have even now looked with hope and faith to the region of the star which is the "crowning jewel" of the central north, was dim in death. Captain Buddington, now in chief command, had faith and hope in the homeward voyage only.
Perilous Situation of the "Polaris."