J. B. Lockwood U S A

FARTHEST NORTH;

OR,

THE LIFE AND EXPLORATIONS OF LIEUTENANT JAMES BOOTH LOCKWOOD, OF THE GREELY ARCTIC EXPEDITION.

BY
CHARLES LANMAN.

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET.
1885.

When we think of the adventure of our times; when we recall the great Arctic explorations that have called forth an endurance and daring which have been unsurpassed in other days; . . . what is there that is more romantic than they are in any history of any age?

From a Thanksgiving Sermon by Rev. Phillips Brooks.

Copyright, 1885,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

PREFACE.

It is believed that this book, with its true but none the less stirring adventures, will be of much interest to the general public, as well as gratifying to the many warm friends of Lieutenant Lockwood. It will likewise correct any erroneous impressions which may have arisen from the publication of garbled extracts from the official journals kept by the different members of the Greely party and, by order of the War Department, laid open to the public. By this order, Lockwood’s journal and those of others became public property, and hence any reference to them in advance of their official publication is allowable.

The few pages devoted to the early life can not be expected to especially interest the general public, but will gratify Lieutenant Lockwood’s friends. They are here produced to give them permanency, and to show his sterling character.

No attempt is here made to give a history of the Expedition, and only so much of Lockwood’s journal is produced as shows his connection therewith. The voyage to Lady Franklin Bay is given more in detail, as it presents a lively picture of an interesting people not much known, and as it exhibits the buoyant spirits with which he entered upon the work, before dissensions in camp had checked them, though without marring his faithfulness and energy. The important part he had in the enterprise, his zeal, energy, and loyalty to his chief and to the cause, all are fully set forth, and will be more clearly seen when the more elaborate history of the Expedition shall be published by Lieutenant Greely, as will shortly be done.

Although the journal has been freely used, its language and style have not been closely followed, except in those parts quoted which refer to Lockwood’s sentiments and feelings. The deep pathos of these could be expressed as well in no other words.

His journal is very full and complete on the perilous boat-voyage to Cape Sabine, and in the heart-rending struggle for life in that ever-memorable hut where he and so many others laid down their lives. This has purposely been reduced to a few pages, giving the story only so far as Lieutenant Lockwood was connected with it. The same, may be said as to the home-life at the station on Lady Franklin Bay.

The portrait of Lieutenant Lockwood is from an excellent photograph taken a short time before he started for St. John’s, and two of the woodcuts are from photographs by Sergeant Rice. “Arctic Sledging” was made up from a description and a sketch by Sergeant Brainard, and “Farthest North” from a sketch by Lieutenant Lockwood.

The map is a reproduction of that published by the London Geographical Society, which is an exact transcript of maps drawn by Lieutenant Lockwood and submitted by him to Lieutenant Greely with reports of sledge-journeys. This map gives the names agreed upon by Lieutenant Greely and Lieutenant Lockwood, and are those referred to in the journal and in this book. It is much to be regretted that many of these names differ from those on the official map published by authority to the world. The names first given commemorate events connected with those wonderful sledge-journeys, as will be seen in the text; and, if a few unimportant lakes and points were named after friends and relatives, this might have been conceded to one who accomplished so much, and that much so well. The map of the London Geographical Society will probably live, and the other perish, as it should.

Captain Markham, Royal Navy, soon after the return of the Greely Expedition, declared, in articles published in a leading English magazine, that Lockwood never got beyond Cape Britannia, and that he mistook Cape May for that cape, etc. It was thought that, when the history of this sledge-journey was better known, Markham would be glad to withdraw this ungenerous aspersion. This is done so far as to admit that Lockwood did reach 83° 24′ north latitude, 44° 5′ west longitude; but it is now said, in the article “Polar Regions,” of the new Encyclopædia Britannica, written by the captain’s brother, that all this region had previously been explored and exhaustively examined by the English expedition of 1875-’76.

This is very remarkable, in view of the fact that Lockwood Island, which was reached by Lockwood, is one hundred geographical miles east and forty miles north of Cape Britannia which Beaumont saw at the distance of twenty miles, but never reached.

In the same article are expressed sentiments in accord with those contained in this book, viz.: “If the simple and necessary precaution had been taken of stationing a depot-ship in a good harbor at the entrance of Smith’s Sound, in annual communication with Greely on one side and with America on the other, there would have been no disaster. If precautions proved to be necessary by experience are taken, there is no undue risk or danger in polar enterprises. There is no question as to the value and importance of polar discovery, and as to the principles on which expeditions should be sent out. Their objects are exploration for scientific purposes and the encouragement of maritime enterprise.”

CONTENTS.

PAGE [I. Early Life] 7 [II. Army-Life in Arizona] 20 [III. Army-Life in Nebraska] 31 [IV. Army-Life in Kansas] 43 [V. Army-Life in Indian Territory and Colorado] 52 [VI. Preparing for the Arctic Regions] 58 [VII. From Newfoundland to Lady Franklin Bay] 64 [VIII. House-building and Local Explorations] 87 [IX. Preliminary Sledge Expeditions and Life at the Station] 111 [X. “The Arctic Moon”] 132 [XI. Expedition to Lockwood Island] 139 [XII. From Lockwood Island to Lady Franklin Bay] 178 [XIII. Waiting and Watching] 194 [XIV. Resuming a Desperate Struggle] 229 [XV. Across Grinnell Land] 249 [XVI. Preparing for Home] 279 [XVII. Homeward Bound] 286 [XVIII. The Final Catastrophe] 296 [XIX. The Woeful Return] 317

ILLUSTRATIONS.

[Portrait of James B. Lockwood.] [Lockwood, Natives, and Kyack at Disco, Greenland.] [Sledging over the Arctic Floe.] [Taking Observations at Lockwood Island.] [Lockwood’s Corner.] [Map showing Lockwood’s Explorations.]

FARTHEST NORTH.

I.
EARLY LIFE.

In the following pages, it is proposed to record the personal history of an American hero whose fortune it was, at the sacrifice of his life, to visit and explore the utmost limit in the Arctic regions ever attained by human skill and enterprise. Aside from the information communicated to me by his family, the materials placed in my hands consist of his private correspondence and various journals which he faithfully kept while serving his country on the Western frontiers, as well as in the inhospitable domain of the North. As the poet Fitz-Greene Halleck wrote about a kindred character—

“He lived, as mothers wish their sons to live,”

and, on the score of fidelity to duty,

“He died, as fathers wish their sons to die,”

leaving a name that will long be honored in every civilized land as that of a martyr in the cause of geographical exploration.

Many of those connected with the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland, before the civil war, will remember a playful and mischievous boy, whose ready smile and cheerful ways beguiled them in their hours of relaxation. Others who were at that school after the war will remember the same boy, grown into a youth of sixteen years, rugged in aspect, devoted to manly sports, and assiduous in all his duties. It is the story of his brief but eventful life to which this volume is devoted, written for the information of his friends and all those who admire true heroism and rare abilities when allied to sufferings for the public weal.

James Booth Lockwood was the second son and third child of General Henry H. Lockwood and Anna Booth Lockwood. He was born at the Naval Academy, Annapolis, on the 9th of October, 1852, at which time and place his father—a Professor of Mathematics in the Navy—instructed the midshipmen in the military branches, as he had done for many years before. Both his parents were from the State of Delaware, and came from the best stock of that State; and, as his father taught his students “how to shoot,” and prepare themselves for the conflicts of life, it was quite natural that the son should have acquired a love of noble deeds and adventure.

Like many boys, he had his narrow escapes from death, one of which occurred in April, 1860, when, having fallen into the river from the dock, he was rescued in an insensible condition, and restored to life with great difficulty. This escape must have been recalled by him with special emotion in after-years amid his struggles with the ice of Smith’s Sound.

His innate love of fun had been one of his characteristics from childhood, nor was it subdued even when recovering from the accident which nearly cost him his life; for, while lying in his bed, he peered into his father’s face with a quizzical smile, and remarked, “I was drowned, but not drowned dead.”

When the Naval Academy was occupied by a general of the army, in 1861, and the students and professors were transferred to Newport, Rhode Island, young Lockwood accompanied his father and family, and was placed at a public school in that place. After a brief residence in Newport, his father, being a graduate of the Military Academy at West Point, was called upon to command a volunteer regiment of Delaware troops, and having been subsequently commissioned a brigadier-general of volunteers, he was placed in charge of the Eastern Shore counties of Virginia and returned to the region of hostilities, making his headquarters at Drummondtown, in Accomac County. In this quaint and quiet place, and while a mere stripling of ten years, young Lockwood displayed his love of adventure and active life by forming a company of all the colored boys in the village, erecting earthworks in a vacant lot, and, all armed with corn-stalks and broom-handles, meeting a company of white boys in mimic war—noisy, if not dangerous to life or limb. The vanity of personal strife, however, soon becoming irksome to his mind, he turned his attention to horsemanship, and explored the surrounding shores of Accomac on a Chincoteague pony belonging to his father. He also spent many quiet hours conversing about horses and their habits with the soldiers in the garrison, with whom he was a special favorite. After a while, his father was transferred to the command of troops at Harper’s Ferry, and there a new field of adventure occupied the attention of the incipient hero. He was foremost in climbing the neighboring mountain-heights and scaling precipices, and always on the lookout for adventure along the waters of the Potomac. Afterward, when living with his family near the city of Baltimore, he displayed his activity and energy in other ways. When neighboring boys were wont to trespass on his father’s grounds and fruit-trees, he was quite as ready to defend his home as he had been in Accomac to maintain the national struggle then rending the land. And here it was that he often accompanied his father on his rounds among the military works near Baltimore, and always attracted the attention of the troops by his skill in riding. But these experiences were not deemed satisfactory for molding the character of a boy, and then it was that his father sent him to a boarding-school at Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, kept by a Mr. Schwartz, a good scholar and strict disciplinarian. Of course, like those of all boys, his letters teemed with complaints. He was very homesick—a mere child separated from all he loved. In one letter he spoke of praying to God to make him satisfied. In after-years, and when suffering all the horrors of the Arctic, his mother’s prayer was that his childhood’s star might again arise, and lead his sorrowing heart to that comfort found only above. His chief grievances were a Dutch dish regularly given to the boys, called scrapul, and the discipline of powers administered to those who failed in their studies. In this latter punishment, the delinquent was required to raise to the fortieth, fiftieth, or one hundredth power any number given him. However distasteful to him at the time, he seems to have changed his mind upon the subjects of food and discipline afterward; for he became, after his return home, a strong advocate of scrapul as a physical, and of “powers” as a mental diet. Returning, in 1866, with his father to Annapolis, he was sent to St. John’s College in that place, and at that time in a flourishing condition, under the able administration of James C. Welling, now the accomplished President of Columbian College. Although his mental abilities were acknowledged as superior, he preferred action to books, and his success there was not satisfactory to his father. Others known to be his mental inferiors took a higher stand. He, however, read some Latin, and made considerable progress in mathematics. Here we come to a new illustration of his character. During his residence within the walls of the Academy, a species of tyranny existed among the sons of naval officers of his own age with whom he associated, which he could not endure. Rank in the father was supposed to give rank or prestige to the son. This theory young Lockwood was unwilling to acknowledge, and the consequence was that he soon found himself beset by those whom he opposed. But then, as always with the free and brave, right prevailed, and the aggressors were sent to the wall, while the fearless victor very soon became the peer of his associates. The situation of the Academy offering peculiar facilities for boating, fishing, swimming, etc., the professor’s son became an expert in all these exercises, making pets of his sail and row boats, as he had done with the ponies of Chincoteague. Many of the Annapolis students, now high officers in the navy, have spoken of his frolicsome pranks at that time within the grounds of the Academy—for example, how he mimicked the strut of the drum-major, how he teased the watchman by hiding among the trees and bushes, personating an intruder on the grounds, and how he alarmed the servant-maids and the children by appearing suddenly before them like a phantom. He was more fond of reading than of study, and among his favorite books were those of De Foe, Mayne Reid, and others of that class. To what extent he was familiar with the histories of John Ledyard and Joseph R. Bellot can not be stated, but there is a striking similarity in their characters, and indeed it was the fate of the latter, like Lockwood, to lose his life in the Arctic regions. They form a trio of remarkable explorers, whose fame will be perennial, but it was the fate of the last one mentioned to reach the highest success. During the latter part of his residence at Annapolis, he spent many of his spare hours on his father’s farm. By way of encouragement, his father assigned to him a patch of ground for his special cultivation, with fertilizers and the use of a team. To the surprise of all, his success seemed amazing, and his crops were good and profitable. With the money thus secured he purchased for himself a watch and a sporting gun. He had a special fondness for dogs, and exerted over them great influence. His favorite in this direction was a short-legged, long-bodied, common rat-terrier. In the purity of this dog’s blood, he was a decided believer, which faith he maintained with many hot arguments, and exemplified by teaching the animal a great variety of tricks. Indeed, the high degree of training to which he brought the dog Jack was remarkable. He was always quiet and positive toward the animal, and Jack gave his commands a serious and implicit obedience. One of the feats performed by the dog was to carry a candlestick with a lighted candle wherever ordered to do so. Another was to this effect: the boy would place a small scrap of paper on the parlor wall at a height which Jack was hardly able to reach. Jack’s attention would then be called to the paper, and the dog and master would retire up-stairs. Some time afterward, Jack, in obedience to a mere word, would proceed to the parlor, and, to the amusement of those congregated there, launch his body at the paper until he finally secured it, and then would carry it to his master. Although this dog had a special dislike for fire, he would, under orders, pull chestnuts out of the hot coals, even if it took him an hour to perform the task; and it is also related of him that on one occasion, when he slipped his muzzle on the Academy grounds, he picked it up and took it to his master. When the lad’s father was ordered to the National Observatory, the family removing to Washington, the pet dog accompanied them, and the intimacy between the dog and his master was unabated. They often rambled through the streets together, and it was during one of their walks along Pennsylvania Avenue that the dog disappeared, and was never recovered by his owner, whose grief was most sincere and manifest. He published an advertisement, and, true to his regard for the departed, he spoke of it as a pure-blooded animal; which statement was probably the reason why the dog was never returned, as no stranger could have believed in the alleged pedigree of such an ungainly creature.

After young Lockwood’s father and family had become settled in Washington, it was decided that he should return to Annapolis and take charge of the farm until some more suitable or congenial employment should come into view. In looking over the home letters which he wrote at that time, I find a few developments of character which are worthy of mention. For example, in February, 1872, he writes as follows:

“I find Annapolis the same as ever. It would hardly do for Rip Van Winkle to go to sleep here, for, when he awoke, he would find no change, not even by death.”

After speaking in the same letter of a man going to purchase implements in Baltimore, he says: “I think it would pay one capable of judging of such things, or one endowed with ‘Lockwood Common Sense,’” this allusion being to an imaginary manual which the children had attributed to their father. The quiet humor of the youthful farmer is manifested in another letter after this fashion: “I have been suffering all the week from the effects of a poison most probably communicated from some vine. It manifests itself pretty much as Job’s troubles showed themselves, and no position of body except standing affords relief. I haven’t yet got down into the ashes. If tartar emetic produced these eruptions, they might be attributed in some way to the evil agency of Mrs. W——.”

The person here alluded to was the one who became notorious for the alleged poisoning of General W. S. Ketcham, in Baltimore. Young Lockwood had met her at a boarding-house in Annapolis after her release from prison, and was agreeably impressed by her conversation and manners. On a subsequent occasion, when visiting his family in Washington, and some severe remark had been made against the lady in question, he demanded that the company present should not abuse an absent friend in his presence. Being of a sensitive nature in regard to the weather, as is proved by several of his Annapolis letters, and by such passages as the one now to be quoted, it seems surprising that he should ever have decided to visit the icy regions of the North.

“This gloomy weather,” he says, “is by no means calculated to elate one’s spirits, but, on the contrary, makes everything appear in its most dreary and desolate light, especially on a farm like this, and, though the spring will bring more work and attention, yet I shall hail its appearance with joy. I must confess that I can not prevent a feeling of loneliness from coming over me, particularly in the daytime, for at night my lamp and open wood-fire make things more cheerful, or rather less dreary.”

As these letters were written from a farm, and by a mere boy, they are chiefly devoted to asking for advice as to how he should manage affairs, and to reporting the condition of the crops; but, in their way, they prove that there was much solid manhood in the lad, and that he looked upon life as something substantial, and not as a kind of dreamland.

On one occasion, when visiting his home, he noticed that one of his sisters was manifesting what he thought an unreasonable excitement about the advent of cockroaches in the kitchen, whereupon he drew the figure of a vessel under full sail, beneath which he wrote the following: “The brig Anna Baby, bound to the north pole for a load of cockroaches.”

On another occasion, after consulting the family copy of Webster’s Dictionary, he wrote upon one of the fly-leaves, opposite the indorsements of Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and other distinguished men, these words: “I regard this dictionary as very good, especially when you can not get any other.”

These incidents, though unimportant, help us to appreciate the character of the critical and independent youth.

The following example of the boy’s ingenuity is also worth mentioning:

In 1870 a brother-in-law gave him a small, cheap clock, about four and a half inches in diameter, which he at once adapted to the purpose of waking himself in the morning. After joining the slats of his bed together with battens, he sawed them through in the middle and hinged the parts. That half of the arrangement which was at the head of the bed was supported only by a single prop. A minute collar of lead was supported by one of the hands of the clock. At the proper time the lead slipped from the hand automatically, and, in falling, set in motion a system of levers which were connected with the prop by a string. Thus, with unfailing regularity, the prop was jerked from its place, and the young occupant of the bed was pitched headlong to the floor among his pillows and bolster. When he tired of this apparatus, it became his custom at night to hitch a string around his foot, the end of the string being passed out of the window and allowed to trail down to the kitchen-door. At a definite time in the morning, previously ordered, the colored cook pulled the string until she received intimation of a successful result.

In the hope of finding more congenial employment, young Lockwood now fixed his mind on engineer work in connection with railroads. He joined a corps on the Texas and Pacific Railroad line, and went to the northeastern corner of the State of Texas, where, for four months, he drove pegs and cut down bushes in the virgin wilderness, which employment was only terminated by the failure of the company to go on with its enterprise. What with the rough people with whom he was compelled to associate, the hard fare at the rude taverns, and a severe attack of sickness, he had a very disagreeable experience, which was enhanced by the non-payment of wages by the company, and by the temporary loss of the spare money furnished by his father, which was taken from him by the rascality of a pretended friend, an employé of the railroad company. By careful financial engineering, he managed to leave the wilderness of Texas, went to Shreveport, and thence to New Orleans, where he took a steamer for Cincinnati, and on this trip he met with one small bit of good fortune. Owing to his limited means he contracted with the captain of the steamer that he should be carried to Cincinnati, O., for a specific sum, all his meals to be included in the passage-money. It so happened, however, that the steamer was detained by floating ice for three weeks, but this caused no detriment to the traveler’s pocket, as time was not “nominated in the bond.” About eleven years after that experience, the same traveler was fighting his way through the ice of the Arctic seas and enduring the horrors of Cape Sabine, finding it difficult to secure necessary rations at any price or of any quality.

On reaching home, he began the study of bookkeeping with a view to the civil service. With others, he was examined for a position in the Treasury Department. He passed the examination with credit, and received a mark much above the number required for passing, but, when the office-mark was thrown in, as was then the custom, his average was reduced, and those who had personal influence and understood the “tricks of the trade” became the successful applicants.

II.
ARMY-LIFE IN ARIZONA.

After finding that farming and railroad engineering were not exactly the employments he had fancied them to be, young Lockwood resumed his studies under the direction of his father. Not long afterward, however, he was seized with the idea of entering the army, and, at the very outset of this venture for a useful life, he was met with a blending of good and bad fortune. Securing the influence of many friends, he made a successful appeal to the President and the War Department. He received orders for an examination before the proper tribunal, and, out of thirty-eight young men who were examined in Washington, he passed No. 1. He also had a higher mark than any of those examined in other places at the same time; hence he was entitled to the highest commission as second lieutenant, and at one time it was resolved to give it to him; but, as the examinations were conducted in different places and before different boards, it was decided to settle the rank of the applicants by lot, and Lockwood’s number was forty, instead of one to which he was justly entitled. He was, however, promised a crack regiment, and hence became second lieutenant in the Twenty-third Infantry, then commanded by two officers who had gained distinction in the late war—Colonel Jefferson C. Davis and Lieutenant-Colonel George Crook. He soon after joined the recruiting station at New York for instruction.

The few letters that Lieutenant Lockwood wrote home from New York contained very graphic pictures of what he there observed. His reception at the recruiting-station was most cordial, one of the first things done there by the recruiting-officers, to his surprise, being to bring forth a demijohn of whisky; but from this hospitality he begged to be excused, only one or two other young men following his example.

After a service of several weeks at the recruiting-station in New York, he conducted recruits to the Territory of Arizona by the way of Panama. The party left New York in November, 1873, and, on reaching San Francisco, went by steamer to Fort Yuma, near the mouth of the Colorado River, and thence marched over the rugged and dusty plains of Arizona to McDowell Post, a distance of more than one hundred and fifty miles in the interior.

From the few letters that he wrote respecting his trip from New York to San Francisco, we gather the following items:

“Aspinwall is a dirty, sandy town, of no architectural pretensions. I cannot better describe it than by asking you to imagine Lockwoodville[1] with a lot of palm- and cocoanut-trees growing in the vacant lots, plenty of the sand and filth aforesaid, all the darkies of Annapolis sauntering around, plenty of children and many dogs, pigs, etc. However, I must do Aspinwall justice—it has a neat little church, a marble monument erected to some of its chief benefactors, and, what I should call, a remarkably fine statue of Columbus, in bronze. It has an enormous trade passing through it, from one ocean to the other, and is really a place of great importance to the mercantile world.”

“We reached Panama between four and five in the afternoon, after a very interesting ride across the country, and were immediately embarked for the Constitution—which lay two miles from shore—so that I had no opportunity of seeing Panama, except from the water. The ship left during the evening, and ever since has been ‘plowing the angry main’ toward San Francisco, excepting when stopping at some of the towns along the coast. We have seen several of these, and they are all of one type, that of Aspinwall, though on a much smaller scale. Some that I saw had not half a dozen wooden houses, but consisted merely of reed-huts covered with straw. One of these—Mazatlan—claims to have twenty thousand inhabitants, but does not appear to have more than one tenth of that number. All the tropical fruits were abundant at these places, and could be purchased for a trifle. The Constitution is a side-wheeler of four thousand tons, and has little motion, and, while sea-sickers are abundant, I am not one of them. I have gained ten pounds, and now weigh one hundred and sixty-one.”

Lockwood’s stay in San Francisco was too brief to afford him much opportunity for observation, but here is what he said of the Chinese: “I visited Chinatown this evening, and saw the Celestials in all their glory. I saw many strange and amusing sights in their stores and shops and along their streets, as they are very slow in adopting civilized customs. I send along with this some Chinese pictures which I purchased. I am very much pleased with San Francisco, and shall leave it with many regrets. A walk through the Chinese quarter is like a visit to some Chinese city on the other side of the Pacific.”

The few events of his trip along the coast to Yuma were to this effect: Soon after leaving the Golden Gate, he experienced a storm that was far from pacific in its character, far worse than any he had witnessed since leaving New York; he visited Magdalena Bay, which impressed him as a barren, miserable place, chiefly noted for its want of houses, and yet of some importance as the shipping port of a dye-wood found in that region; he also stopped at Carmen Island, where large quantities of salt were found in the dry bed of a lake, and at Cape St. Lucas, but brought away no favorable impressions from any of these remote places. With Yuma City he was better pleased, describing its houses as small, one-story affairs, built of adobe, more Mexican than American in character, and its streets as far more dusty than those of Washington City; and the mountains surrounding the city as very imposing. The Colorado reminded him of the Red River—the channel winding and running between great mud-flats and islands, all constantly changing, and abounding in many kinds of water-fowl. He was interested in the Indian inhabitants, whom he pitied for their poverty and degradation; occasionally seeing a number of squaws reclining like quadrupeds on the mud-flats or in front of their tiny oval huts.

The sojourn of Lieutenant Lockwood in Arizona lasted into the summer of 1874, and from the letters which he wrote home from Post McDowell may be gathered some interesting particulars, illustrating his habits of close observation in regard to men and events.

His journey from Fort Yuma to Camp McDowell was full of interest and was greatly enjoyed. He had for companions two brother officers and three ladies; traveled by ambulance, making marches of only about fifteen miles; camped out every night, Lockwood himself sleeping on the ground outside. As the country was very desolate and barren, they traveled generally along the valley of the Gila, but their last march was over desert land forty-five miles wide. They saw many relics along the route, mounds, ruins, and immense ditches for irrigation. One immense pile of rocks, called the Painted Rocks, was entirely covered with pictures of lizards, Indians, beasts, and birds—supposed to represent a great battle in which the Apaches conquered the Maricopas. There were also along the road graves of men murdered by the Indians. One grave, near Gila Bend, was of a man named Lumley, a station-keeper, murdered by two Mexicans—his successor exhibited a knife, used by one of the murderers, which had been found, and he pointed out the spot where Judge Lynch had disposed of the only criminal that happened to be captured. While the travelers did not spend any money at hotels, they were obliged to pay from twenty to thirty dollars for being ferried across the Gila and Salt Rivers at different points.

In one of his letters, written to his sister after the rainy season, and soon after his arrival at Camp McDowell, young Lockwood says: “I wish you could see the pretty flowers around here; they are principally yellow and red, and each kind grows by itself. They grow so close together that the ground is covered as with a carpet. To the west of this post there is a wide plain covered with these flowers. There is also a species of cactus called the Suwarrow, which grows fifteen or twenty feet high—a sort of tree without branches, but covered with thorns; the outside of this tree is of a green color and nearly as soft as young asparagus, but inside it has a frame of wood. These are all over the plain, in fact all over Arizona. I often walk out here after dinner with a large dog that belongs to one of the officers, and start up the rabbits—great big Jack-rabbits, as they are called—as large as a small dog. They can run very fast, faster than any dog except a hound. Among other curiosities about here are rattlesnakes and lizards—the lizards as common as flies; also crows as big as hens and almost as tame. The post is entirely surrounded by mountains.” By way of contrast to this pleasing prospect, in another letter he gives the particulars of the murder of two men by the Indians within twelve miles of the garrison, their bodies having been fearfully mutilated. “I am still in the land of the finite and material,” he writes, “and the Apaches have not yet disturbed the arrangement of my back hair; in short, I am alive and kicking.”

On the 14th of May, Lockwood writes that “there has been nothing new at the post except the arrival of Lieutenant Schuyler, Fifth Cavalry. He has been out on a scout for several months past, dropping in at various posts now and then. He reports that he came upon the Apaches southeast of here, killed twelve and took fourteen prisoners. He is accompanied by Dr. Corbasier and a party of thirty-one soldiers and eighty-one Indian scouts. These scouts are composed of Apache-Mojave, Tonto-Apaches, and other tribes, closely allied to the Apaches proper. It seems strange that they are thus willing to join the enemy in exterminating their brethren; but such is their nature. They are hardly superior to the beasts, except in shape, and even there the line of demarkation is not very distinct. The Pimos, to the number of one hundred or more, were here about a week ago, on their way to punish the Apaches for stealing some stock from them. When they returned, they reported the killing of quite a number of their foes—some sixteen or more—and taking many prisoners. Schuyler’s party confirm the report; they came across the camp of the Apaches, and the doctor said he counted a large number of slain. The Pimos surprised the Apaches when asleep and almost exterminated them. They were armed with war-clubs, and of course mangled their bodies horribly. When found their heads were all beaten in, and their bodies stuck full of arrows and partially burned. The doctor says it was the most sickening sight he ever beheld. The Apache bands, off their reservations, are fast becoming exterminated, over a thousand having been killed during the last winter. General Crook will not allow them to return to their reservations unless they bring the heads of several of the ringleaders in the late outbreak.”

In another place, after alluding to the extravagant accounts published about Arizona, he says: “One would suppose, from reading the pamphlet I send you, that Arizona is a fine agricultural country—which is absurd; and that it contains many flourishing cities and towns, whereas even the river-bottoms require irrigation, and the ‘cities’ are merely the nuclei of towns.”

On one occasion, after alluding to his enjoyment of the newspapers sent him from home, and to the early transfer of his regiment, he says: “It would probably have been removed this spring but for the financial panic and other commercial disasters. I suppose if the rest of the year goes by prosperously, and nothing occurs to prolong the gingerly, penny-wise, pound-foolish policy of Congress called economy (?), that the Twenty-third will probably be removed next spring or fall.” And again, he continues: “Grant appears to have obtained great credit by his veto of the Inflation Bill. How Congress could pass a bill which seems to be unacceptable and repugnant to the whole people, I can not understand.”

Alluding a second time to the pleasing characteristics of frontier life, he tells his father that “a party of Indian scouts arrived here yesterday from Schuyler’s command. They brought the news that the lieutenant had jumped the Indians at Four Peaks—a high mountain, forty miles off—killed eighteen and captured six. The party brought in a wounded scout, shot through the head, who is now in the hospital. He was the only one wounded in the fight, or rather slaughter, for these Indians rarely fight a party of any size. I suppose these Arizona tribes are the most degraded, cowardly, and despicable savages in the country. Schuyler, as I understand, generally sweeps a breadth of country fifty miles across, by means of flanking-parties on the right and left, and has been quite successful.”

In speaking of his duties at the post, he says: “I am officer-of-the-day every other day; I mount the guard every morning, attend all roll-calls, accompany the captain in his inspection of quarters every morning, and afterward recite tactics. I also am present with him at company-drill every evening, command the company at Sunday morning inspection, sit on boards of survey and perform other irregular duties.”

After announcing the arrival of the paymaster at the post, and alluding to expenses, he says: “Servants in this country are paid enormously. The post-trader pays his Chinese cook thirty dollars per month, and has paid as high as one hundred dollars. Officers in Arizona are compelled from necessity to employ soldiers in this capacity, though contrary to the regulations.”

In one of his letters, Lieutenant Lockwood gives his opinion about some of his father’s landed property, and then goes on after this fashion: “The old farm has additional charms for me now, after living in Arizona, and I have come to think that there are many worse places. Does distance lend enchantment to the view? or what is it? I often long after some of the delicious peaches and other fruit that the much-abused farm produces in such abundance. However, if you can dispose of the farm as you suggest, it will, no doubt, be for the best, as the Lockwood family have become so high-toned that I am afraid they will never stoop (?) to live on a farm and become grangers.”

In one of his letters written about this date, he makes the following remark respecting his education at Annapolis: “I don’t think I care about being present at the meeting of the alumni of my Alma Mater, or, what she would be more pleased with, contributing anything in the way of money. Enough has been thrown away in teaching me what has never been of any use. However, the old woman has my good wishes.”

In another letter, after speaking of an entertainment he had attended, he said: “I don’t know that I should have enjoyed it, but for the presence of a very pretty Spanish girl with whom I fell in love; she danced charmingly, but as she could not speak a word of English, nor I a word of Spanish, our conversation was somewhat limited.”

On the 4th of July when arrangements were commenced for removing the Twenty-third Regiment to Yuma, the lieutenant thus touches upon the national anniversary: “I have celebrated the day by being very busy writing up the proceedings of a board of survey, and have a like job on my hands for to-morrow; indeed, I shall be fully employed now till we leave. Some of the men, however, have been otherwise employed, viz., in parading before the guard-house with logs of wood on their backs, as the reward of a drunken frolic. Our march to Fort Yuma will doubtless be very disagreeable, and for two weeks we shall have dust and heat together with the fatigue of travel; but, on the other hand, the daily march will not be more than fifteen miles, and as we shall be well provided, I can’t say that I look forward to it with much dread. The wife of our captain is even now interesting herself in the culinary arrangements, so I presume the vitals will be good.” From the time of his uttering this amusing pun until the following September, the letters of young Lockwood give us no incidents of special interest, and we now follow him into the State of Nebraska, his regiment having been assigned to the favorite post of Omaha.

III.
ARMY-LIFE IN NEBRASKA.

Having entered upon duty at the barracks of Omaha, he seems to have made himself especially useful there, while enjoying some of the comforts of civilization, including good society. On the 25th of September, he wrote that he had been busy for a week as the recorder of a court-martial. “We settled nine cases, and, while we now stand adjourned sine die, I suppose the court will soon be reconvened to try half a dozen more men against whom charges have been preferred. There have been, since my arrival here, as many as sixty men in the guard-house, and courts-martial are the order of the day. I have to attend drills, etc., every day, and hence my leisure and opportunities for visiting the town have been limited. However, I did go last night to a concert in town given for the benefit of the grasshopper sufferers, several of these sufferers from the country being present. You can not realize what a nuisance these insects are in this country. I have not yet seen them in any numbers, or the effects of their ravages, but I am told they sometimes actually stop the railway-trains. The incredible number of bed-bugs in this country is another curious fact. I sleep so soundly that they do not disturb me. They infest every house at the post, and they are also numerous in the city, the fences between here and there being painted in many places, ‘Go to Smith’s for the great bed-bug buster.’” He became a favorite in the refined society of Omaha, at that time on the confines of civilization, but appearing to him like a bit of New York city cut off and set down in the wilderness, where, only a few years before, the buffalo ranged in his native freedom. During his residence at Omaha, young Lockwood was on the most friendly terms with all his fellow-officers, with one exception. After giving his father a very manly account of that trouble, he writes a paragraph about himself in these words: “With regard to myself, I find this army-life about what I expected. It has its pleasures and its crosses. I should prefer the cavalry to the infantry, and am sorry I did not apply for that arm of the service. I should like to remain in the army two or three years longer, I think, and yet, with a good opening, might do better in civil life. Promotion is very slow, and the accumulation of anything is not easy. These, of course, are rude impressions and but half formed, but, as you ask for impressions, I feel bound to give them just as they are. I have not been in the army long enough to rise, nor have I had the opportunity to gain any particular reputation, but suppose mine is as good as the average—that is, I think I have displayed as much aptitude for my profession as is generally exhibited by men of average ability, for of such I regard myself—perhaps below the average. I hope this peroration will answer your inquiries, and prove satisfactory in that respect. Excuse the necessary egotism. I will thankfully receive any advice or corrections which the reading of this, or your acquaintance with my characteristics, may suggest. I feel as though I had written a lot of foolishness; if you think so, please excuse.”

To the writer of this personal history, it seems as if such sentiments as the above could come only from a young man endowed with the highest instincts of ambition, honor, and true manhood, and can not but be considered, with others of like character, as a suitable passport into the land of Odin and the glories of Valhalla.

During his stay at Omaha, Lieutenant Lockwood was detailed by General Ord, the commanding officer, to visit those counties of Nebraska where grasshoppers had destroyed the crops, for the purpose of determining to whom contributions which had been sent to the general should be given. In this journey of several hundred miles, made in the coldest weather, he visited the several county towns, met the citizens, and afterward laid before the general such testimony as to the destitute, that the bounty was distributed to the satisfaction of all. While on this duty, he traveled ninety miles in twenty-four hours. The county people with whom he conducted business, he designated as “Grasshoppers.” He greatly enjoyed the prairie scenery through which he passed, especially the valley of the Blue.

On the approach of Christmas at Omaha, our young friend had an attack of chills and fever, which sent him to his bed. After deploring that he could not perform his duties on the pending court-martial, he gives us this holiday information: “Yesterday was Christmas, and I am glad that the day comes but once a year. With a large party I was occupied until late in the afternoon making the rounds of the many houses here at the post. In the evening, I ate a fine dinner at General Ord’s, and on top of that, danced in the parlor until eleven or twelve o’clock, and, as a consequence, am coming on as officer of the guard to-day with a most gorgeous headache. So much for Christmas. I have received two or three presents, but have made none myself, from want of funds. I just now heard a tremendous crash, and, on going out, found a fine lunch, sent by Mrs. Ord, scattered on the ground, and in the midst of the débris of broken glass and china, the unfortunate bearer, who had slipped and fallen on the ice in front of the door. I was not particularly sorry on my own account, as I could not have eaten the good things ‘anyhow.’ Upon the whole, Christmas has passed away as it usually does, pleasantly, though at the expense of many unfortunate turkeys. I am sorry I could not send home any presents, my pecuniary affairs being in a straitened condition. I should like very much to be at home about this time. I often wish I could hear Lidie and Anna sing, although I suppose I would find the girls, including Julia and Mary, much changed.”

Remembering young Lockwood’s remarks about whisky-drinking in New York, the following statement is worth quoting: “Most of the ladies at the post received visitors on New-Year’s-day, either singly or in groups. One marked feature of the day was the general absence of liquor, its place being supplied by coffee, chocolate, and other refreshments of a more solid and less stimulating character. I noticed the same thing in town, or rather that at those places where I saw liquor, the ladies were less urgent than is usually the case in pressing it upon the gentlemen. However, there is less drinking at this post than at any other I have seen, as large as it is. Although, with few exceptions, all drink here, it is done quietly at home and without excess.”

As our young friend had narrowly escaped with his life from drowning at Annapolis, so did he from the pranks of an unruly horse at the Omaha Barracks. He was about mounting the horse for a ride, when the animal started on the run before he could get into the saddle, when he was thrown forward upon his head. The trouble was owing to a defect in the bridle. In accounting for his escape, he remarked that his thick head was what saved his life. True to his native pluck, he tackled the same horse a number of times afterward, until the animal—a special favorite—was subdued.

In the month of June, 1875, it would seem as if something like homesickness was weighing down his spirits, for he then began to write about employment in civil life. Not that he disliked the army, but he longed for some business that would enable him to make a little money. He thought he could supply a sufficient amount of energy to prosecute a commercial venture. He felt that there was a great difference between the roads that lead to wealth and to military glory. If his father should chance to see an opening that might give him a fortune in a few days at the expense of a few hundred dollars or some hard work, he wanted to be promptly notified. He broached these business ideas at that time merely for the sake of having a subject for discussion when permitted to visit his home.

The life at the Omaha garrison, during the summer of 1875, was comfortable but monotonous. The faithfulness with which the young officer corresponded with his parents is eminently characteristic of a dutiful son. When not writing about his surroundings and daily duties, or sketching the character of his associates, he ventured to discuss business matters with his father, frequently volunteering a bit of advice. He often alluded to the Annapolis farm and to people and events connected with Georgetown, now a part of Washington City, where he expected the family to remain permanently. On every subject discussed, he manifested a clear head, and enlivened his more serious talk with an occasional joke, for which he seemed to have a fondness. In expressing his opinions on men and things, it seemed impossible for him to hesitate or equivocate; he always went directly to the point, and, though charitable, he could not refrain from looking out for the demands of justice, as, for example, when alluding to the death of a man who had been untrue to himself and friends, he said “to die was about the best thing he could do.” As to his jokes, they were not confined to his private letters, as will be shown by one of them practiced upon the post trader during a dull period in the garrison. The trader in question, a young fellow, had removed the balls from the pistol of one of his clerks, with the intention of playing a ghostly trick upon him that night. He told Lockwood and another friend of his intention, and they determined to turn the tables upon the trader. They notified the clerk, and at midnight the amateur ghost rose from his bed, enveloped himself in a white sheet, and stole softly into the room of the unsuspecting clerk. Just then an improvised noise was made outside the door, when the clerk seemingly awoke with an exclamation of terror at seeing the ghost. The report of the pistol was duly followed by the return of the ball held in hand, à la ghost, but immediately after, the poor ghost found himself completely drenched with a bucket of water, which had been coolly set aside for that purpose. At this unexpected turn of affairs, the trader fled in the greatest consternation, leaving his “trade-mark” behind, and, as he passed out of the door, received a second pail of water from one of his ghostly companions. The result was that it took a long time for him to dry his saturated skin, and a much longer for his title of Mr. Ghost to be lost by the garrison boys. Not long after the above incident, this personage found that there was not “the ghost of a chance” of his continuing in business, as he became insolvent and had to retire. It would appear that while many of these military merchants on the frontiers have a chance to make fortunes, those who are located near a city like Omaha find it difficult to make both ends meet in their business affairs.

On reading the proceedings of Congress during the winter of 1875, he writes to his father as follows: “Congress seems to be looking around for some scape-goat on which to pile the odium of the millions legislated away, and, as usual, pitches on the army. It seems to be the opinion here, however, that no reduction will take place this winter. If Congressmen consulted occasionally others than the staff-officers living in Washington with regard to military affairs, they might find out the true whereabout of the tremendous rat-hole which swallows up annually the sum of thirty-four millions of dollars. It does not go to support the army proper, but to support that enormous, overgrown, expensive adjunct of the army, the staff, which, created merely for the administration of the army, now masters that which it was intended to subserve, and has become superior to it in rank and influence, and in everything that rank and influence can bring. But Congress seems to be blind to the fact that expenditures are credited to the army, under the army appropriation bill, which have no legitimate connection with it, and which would still be required if no army existed. Why is it that the army is the perpetual foot-ball of these demagogues? Is it thus, at every session, to be bantered about by those who do not understand the requirements of the country in this respect? Is not the causing of this periodical uncertainty respecting his fate the most pernicious thing that Congress can do to an officer? O consistency, thou art a jewel! How is it that the navy and other branches of the public service are not subject to this constant tinkering? But I am not in Congress, and had better subside.” The assertions here made can not be controverted, and, coming from a young man who had but recently passed his majority, prove him to be the possessor of very substantial abilities. He also expressed decided opinions in regard to various noted officials charged with improper conduct in Washington at the time alluded to, all of which have been sustained by subsequent developments.

Remembering what he said about the drinking customs of Omaha, on New-Year’s-day, 1875, it is pleasant to have him record the fact, on the 2d of January, 1876, that “the most noticeable feature during the previous day, in society, was the entire absence, at most houses, of any intoxicating liquors, and that he did not see a case of drunkenness during the entire day—a thing very rare even in the cities of the East.” On a subsequent occasion, he mentions the fact that, when one of his sergeants had been drinking to excess, he put him in arrest, but released him the next day, after warning him of the consequences of a repetition of the offense, and “preaching him a sermon on the evils of intoxication, moral, mental, and physical.” On one occasion, when his father had asked how he spent his leisure time in the barracks, he replied that he read, so as to combine pleasure with profit, played on his flute, and studied the art of short-hand, which had long been a hobby with him, and was to be in the future an important accomplishment. In an effort to read Draper’s “Intellectual Development of Europe,” he could only manage about one half of the work, and to counteract its dullness resorted to a novel, “The Wandering Jew.” As he was frequently called upon to act as recorder of the military court, he found his knowledge of stenography very useful and very much of a relaxation, and, on receiving a letter from one of his sisters which was good but not very plainly written, he said that he had been able to make it out by means of his skill in shorthand writing. As to his studies, he had formed a regular plan for prosecuting them, but was constantly interrupted by extra official duties. Among other things, he devoted himself to the German language, and subsequently to French, and attained considerable proficiency. An idea of his habits of industry may be gathered from what he wrote to his father, when the General was placed on the retired list of the navy: “So you are retired this month. You ought to open an office, or do something to occupy your mind. Every one needs something in the way of business or duty. You will soon get tired of reading continuously.” On the approach of spring, and with the expectation of obtaining a leave of absence during the coming summer, he resumed a discussion with his father about leaving the army for civil employment. He had entered it well posted in regard to its disadvantages, and chiefly for the sake of having something to do. He had now become more deeply impressed than before that promotion was so slow, that his prospects of increased rank and pay offered no inducements to any young man of energy and industry, qualities which he certainly possessed. He was not then ready for decisive action, but he was determined to support himself, and would, therefore, be on the lookout for advantageous prospects in some other line of employment. In one of his letters, after commenting upon the school which two of his sisters were attending, he gives us this bit of experience: “I am a school-teacher myself; my pupils, the non-commissioned officers of the company. They waste the midnight oil, however, only in boning the tactics. I go down and dilate and expatiate very profoundly on the reasons and logic of this and that. This is a pleasant school to have; the authority and influence of the officer have their full weight in the ordinary school-room as elsewhere in the army.” In May, 1876, after giving an account of a proposed demonstration, under General Crook, against the Indians on the Yellowstone, he thus relieves his mind: “Would that I belonged to the cavalry! I like motion, action, and variety. To be sure, I would rather be here (in Omaha) than where the other companies are, but still would rather be in the field than here.” In June, 1876, the monotony of his life was relieved by an order to take some convicts to the State prison near Fort Leavenworth, which he described as the largest post in the country, containing the post proper, the department headquarters, and the military prison. The State prison is about six miles from the town. “Here,” he writes, “are sent all the enlisted men who are dishonorably discharged, convicted of theft, or other not purely military offenses. The inclosure is an immense yard, surrounded by a high stone wall—the building, which is on one side, having an appearance somewhat like the Smithsonian Institution. In the inclosure are various other buildings, each one used as a workshop for some trade, almost all the common trades being represented. The prisoners, numbering about five hundred, are together in the daytime, but not at night, and are not allowed to talk with each other. It was from this prison that the best features of the new military prison were obtained, the board of officers on the management of the prison at Fort Leavenworth having decided it to be the best one to imitate.”

In the autumn of 1876, when he was granted a leave of absence to visit his parents, they found him in personal appearance wonderfully improved and developed, the boy of 1873 having become a handsome and accomplished gentleman. He was not slow, as may be supposed, in making his way to Philadelphia to visit the Centennial Exposition, which he greatly enjoyed.

IV.
ARMY-LIFE IN KANSAS.

During Lieutenant Lockwood’s absence on leave, his regiment was transferred to Fort Leavenworth, and there we find him early in 1877, and for about two years thereafter. Of course, the garrison life of an officer, in times of peace, is somewhat monotonous; but the letters which the lieutenant wrote from this station contain some passages which are interesting and illustrate his character, as will be seen in the following pages. Here it should be stated that, during his sojourn at Fort Leavenworth, he made many pleasant acquaintances, which ripened into friendship; among them being the widow of an officer, with whom he boarded for some time, and whose friendship he particularly valued.

At a time when there was quite a rage at the garrison for private theatricals, one of the superior officers took the liberty, without previous consultation, of putting Lockwood on the list of performers, whereupon he declined the honor, as he thought Nature never intended him for a star. In speaking of a little difficulty between two of his friends, he manifests his love of fun by stating that one of them had denied the allegation and defied the alligator. When commenting upon some disagreeable March weather, he said, “I don’t think the ground-hog has seen his shadow, and hence the latter part of the month ought to be pleasant.” After a remark on the proficiency he was making in the study of French, he quietly continues, “There are many here who speak it ‘à l’Américaine,’ as if they thought that ‘the chief end of man.’”

As if never satisfied with his acquirements, he writes in one of his letters as follows: “My latest hobby is telegraphing. The signal officer of the department has loaned me a small battery and an instrument. We have put up the wires and are progressing well. Telegraphy, like phonography, is easy to transmit after some little practice; but it is difficult to recognize the sounds as they come over the wire, and it requires as much practice as it does to recognize the phonographic characters. I have the instrument on the table before me, and can not fail to gain some proficiency at any rate.”

In July, 1877, when the strikers and rioters were making trouble in St. Louis, Mo., Lieutenant Lockwood’s company and five others were ordered to that city on duty. After their arrival, they waited in daily expectation of mowing down the mob, but there was little fighting, as the police and militia were found to be amply sufficient to subdue all disturbance. He was greatly pleased with the city and military quarters of St. Louis, and felt that he would like to remain there on permanent duty. The feature which pleased him more than any other at St. Louis was a private garden of about fifty acres, exquisitely planned, and containing the rarest and most beautiful flowers and trees. The floral display, there, he thought superior to that at the Centennial Exposition. The owner, a bachelor named Shaw, nearly eighty years of age, and a man of enormous wealth, paid out yearly in expenses twenty-five thousand dollars. At the garden residence of this millionaire, young Lockwood and a friend were hospitably entertained—a wonderful contrast to the accommodations at a beer-saloon, near the arsenal gate, where the army officers were obliged to take their meals while in the city. Altogether the trip was pleasant, but too expensive for men with limited means. On their return to Fort Leavenworth from the Eden-like garden of St. Louis, they were informed of Indian troubles in Montana, and startled by a rumor that they must soon be off upon a hunt for Indians—illustrating the vicissitudes of army-life.

It was about this time that a specimen of American royalty visited Fort Leavenworth with his daughter, to whom young Lockwood had an opportunity of being polite. This was a great cattle-man from Texas, who was said to have fenced in a grazing-farm of a million of acres, and who numbered his cattle by tens of thousands. His name was King, and his title in all the West was the “Cattle King of Texas.” The father and daughter were much interested in an inspection of the fort, where they were hospitably entertained. From that time onward for several months, the dullness of garrison-life was only relieved by parties, dinners, and theatrical amusements in the city, by the presence of an encampment of Indians near the post, and by attendance at a grand reception and ball given at Kansas City by the Governor of the State. The letters written by young Lockwood during all this period are elaborate and full of interest to his parents, but not enlivened with any incidents of public interest. The garrison courts seem to have demanded very much of his attention, because of his skill in taking down testimony by short-hand, and he was frequently compelled to devote many of his sleeping hours to the duty of writing out his notes.

While going from the fort into town one day, he witnessed what he called an awful spectacle—three little boys in a state of intoxication. This recalled the fate of one of his former companions in the East, who had become a drunkard, and in a letter to his father he recorded the following: “Liquor is certainly a terrible curse; one constantly sees illustrations of this in the army. You rather startled me in a recent letter by telling me you had taken the pledge. Had you departed from your abstemious habits in this respect? was my first thought, but I was at once relieved by seeing that your allusion was to something else. A rule that I have had for a long time and seldom depart from, is not to drink before sunset and never to do so in a saloon. It is rather superfluous in me to have any such rules, as it is very seldom that I have a desire to touch spirituous drinks, and then I partake only for the sake of not appearing to be rude in social matters.”

On one occasion, after describing a splendid dinner which he had attended, he branches off upon his own experiences in that line, stating that he had been caterer for the “Bachelors’ Club” during the current month, and playing housekeeper for the first time in his life. He was striving to feed the mess well and to reduce expenses, the individual assessments amounting to twenty-four dollars.

“We have a good deal of fun,” he says, “at the mess; among other ways, by a resolution of the officers that I shall keep a record of the puns, jokes, profane expressions, etc. Any one indulging in these is put back or set forward on a regular motion and vote by the members, and any one getting a record of fifteen has to send to the store for a supply of cigars. One of the mess, having the bad habit of saying, ‘O Lord!’ and ‘Damn it!’ when excited, gets a great many bad marks, and is made unhappy. The standard of wit being very high, one seldom ‘goes ahead.’”

In May, 1878, when it was doubtful what Congress would do about reducing the army, and Lieutenant Lockwood thought that he might decide to leave the service, he discussed with his father the question of future employment. He thought favorably of a position in some telegraph company, thereby proving that, in all his studies and leisurely occupations, he was practical, and no visionary. Another idea that he had was that he might play Cincinnatus, and again go upon the farm. He also thought of a position in connection with the Signal Service as one that would suit him should he, from any cause, be compelled to leave the army; and this suggestion, taken in connection with his subsequent career, is notable. He went so far, indeed, as to ask his father about the practicability of securing such a position in that corps, and desired especially to know all about the necessary qualifications.

On one occasion, after alluding to the possibility of his being transferred for duty to some other place, he says that it might be a good thing for him, as he could not remain at Leavenworth always, and yet he dreaded to be sent to some “far-distant and isolated post.” When he wrote those words, how little did he imagine that he would eventually close his earthly career in a land of supreme desolation within the Arctic Circle!

Subsequently—July, 1878—he resumed with special earnestness the consideration of being detailed for duty in the Signal Service, and, with his father’s approbation, made the proper application. He thought the proposed transfer would be of benefit to him in many ways, and if he failed to make it so, he would very quickly be ordered back to his regiment.

In September he was ordered to St. Louis for the purpose of conducting some recruits westward, and for a short time it was uncertain whether he would have to go to Texas or the Territory of Wyoming, whereby were shown the uncertainties which attend life in the army. He took the recruits to Fort Laramie, and, on his way, was in danger of being embroiled with the Cheyenne Indians under Sitting Bull, but returned in safety, by way of his old camp at Omaha, to his company at Fort Leavenworth. During another trip, which he soon after took with his company, he saw in western Kansas many Russian immigrants. They were poor, and had settled at great distances along the streams to be near water, not always easily found in these regions. They knew nothing of the recent outbreak of the Indians, and, indeed, many of them had never seen an Indian. The lieutenant also stumbled upon a colony of Swedes, and at one place saw three women, whose husbands had been killed by the Indians, and who were weeping bitterly in their distress. While his company was on the march he generally kept at the head of the column, thereby receiving the title of Pedestrian of the Command. Much of the country over which they traveled was monotonous in the extreme—wide stretches of prairie reaching to the far horizon. Antelopes and Jack-rabbits were frequently seen, and sometimes were fired at without success. But, to his mind, the most wonderful features about the country were the countless tracks and bones of the buffalo, while not a living animal was seen. One of his guides informed him that in former times he had killed three hundred in a single day, so that it was no wonder that they were now extinct.

In a letter to one of his sisters, in October, he speaks of his return from this chase after Cheyenne Indians, and then goes on to mention some amusing incidents that had occurred at the post, and gives her this bit of artistic advice: “I hope you will profit by your talent for painting, not bury it in the ground, like the foolish steward. Painting is a great and very popular accomplishment; there is none perhaps more so.” No matter what happened in or about the garrison, he seemed always ready with his common-sense opinions referring to passing events. For example, after alluding to the burning of a stable, with thirteen mules, when some of them that had been released ran into the fire from fright, he thus proceeds: “I was talking ‘over the wire’ with one of the men on our telegraph line, and what he said is no doubt true, and shows the short-sightedness of the Government. He said that he and many of the other soldiers had damaged or lost their clothes, and that if soldiers were reimbursed for their losses on such occasions, they would work with much more vim and energy, and that he heard one man say that he would not lose his new pantaloons for all the mules in the stable. Of course, in the case of a private house on fire, I believe the enlisted men would risk everything; but in cases of this kind, where Government property only is concerned, this feeling has its existence. There is, too, some reason for this feeling; for, no matter how hard a soldier or officer may work at a fire to save public property, the Government will not reward him even by the restitution of his clothes. Nothing short of an act of Congress would be authority for such an issue.”

That the heart of this young man was as pure as his mind was bright, may be seen by reading the following remarks concerning the death of a little niece: “I learn with deep regret the death of poor little Agnes, and sympathize heartily with Lidie and her husband in their affliction, the depth of which none but a parent can know. It should be a consolation, however, that the disease carried the little one away in all the innocence of childhood, before her mother’s love had been intensified with years, and her own intelligence had taught her to love and cling to life. The sad news reached me on the day of the funeral of the little daughter of a brother lieutenant. The little baby seemed very amiable in life, and after death lost none of her sweetness. I sat up with the remains during the night before the funeral.” Alas! when this noble-hearted young man gave up his own life, his only night-watchers were the stars and the icy mountains of the far-distant North!

In December, 1878, the Twenty-third Regiment received orders for service in the Indian Territory, and a few weeks afterward entered upon its line of march. In the mean time, the lieutenant made himself useful in performing the duties of an engineer for the sanitary benefit of the Leavenworth garrison. After some appropriate studying, he soon got the knack of running the levels and measuring angles with the theodolite. He found these new duties interesting, preferring the field-work to the making of the necessary profiles and other drawings, involving measurements to the ¹/₁₀₀₀ of an inch—rather a confining employment.

V.
ARMY-LIFE IN INDIAN TERRITORY AND COLORADO.

From the spring of 1879 until the winter of 1881, Lieutenant Lockwood spent a part of his time in the Indian Territory, but chiefly in the State of Colorado. The first duty of his company was to establish a cantonment on the Canadian River. On their way thither, they made a halt at Fort Supply, where the country was sparsely settled, and where the rolling prairies seemed desolate and interminable. Those of his regiment who had been ordered to Supply, he found in miserable quarters—log-huts covered inside with canvas—old, cold, and forlorn in appearance inside and out, and yet the canvas walls thus used and useless were furnished at a cost of hundreds of dollars. After leaving that place for the Canadian River, he was made the engineer officer, and, with a view of making a map of the route and surrounding country, devoted his time to the science of topography, being rewarded by the hearty approbation of the officer in command.

He had counted upon having some good hunting on this route for turkeys and other game, but was disappointed, owing to the fact, as was supposed, that several hundred Indians had passed through the country some weeks before and had gobbled up everything, including a host of gobblers. On reaching their destination, the company went into camp under a bluff on the Canadian River, where they were to remain until buildings could be erected in the immediate vicinity. At the conclusion of his first letter written home from this camp, he says, “I am lying at full length on a buffalo-robe with my paper on ‘Daniel Deronda,’ and the position is not comfortable.”

In June, Lieutenant Lockwood was sent with a small party to Post Reno, where troubles were apprehended with the Indians. It was not necessary to do any fighting there, however, for the reason that the chief inhabitants of the region were rattlesnakes, tarantulas, and prairie-dogs, and the Indians in the vicinity did not seem to be in a blood-thirsty mood. Returning to the cantonment on the Canadian River, he was depressed by the discomforts of the place—no society and many extra duties—but he, nevertheless, found time and inclination to study the Spanish language, as if determined not to leave a stone unturned in his efforts to make himself useful, or ready for any emergency. After confessing his fondness for social intercourse, he writes: “At times I get the ennui and blues very much. Still I try to preserve a philosophic mind, and when the dark side of the picture presents itself, I take a different stand-point, and thus force myself to see, by contrast, the bright side. I find, and ever have found, that the more occupied I am, the better contented I feel.”

In April, 1880, he went upon a kind of exploring expedition, riding in ten days a distance of nearly three hundred miles, and on returning was glad enough to have a little rest in his camp. But, before he could fall into any idle habits, he was ordered westward, with his command, on still more arduous duties. In a letter from a camp near Saguache, on the borders of Colorado, he sent home the following account of what he had seen and experienced: “We left Fort Garland on the 17th of May, and have since been traveling across ‘San Luis Park,’ the ‘Valley of the Gods.’ This is a vast level plain in southern Colorado, surrounded on all sides by high, snow-capped mountains, which always seem within a few hours’ travel, and yet are miles and miles away. When one considers that Blanco Peak is over fourteen thousand feet above the sea-level, one does not wonder that it is very plainly seen from where I am now writing. This Paradise of the Gods is some two hundred miles long by over sixty across, and is a veritable desert. I have met nothing like it outside of Arizona. The vegetation consists of greasewood and sage-brush—sometimes not even this; the irrigation-ditches that one meets near the few streams seem hardly able to produce a feeble, stunted grass. For miles and miles, all is pulverized dust, which, blown by the winds in blinding clouds, covers everything like the ashes of a volcano. Night before last one of these pleasant zephyrs blew down several of the tents, and filled the air so thickly with dust, that several of the command, who had their hats blown off, were unable to find or recover them. They say it sometimes rains here, but I very much doubt it. The few ranches we have encountered are on streams descending from the mountains, which sink in the plain after running a short distance; and bordering them are the squalid adobe houses, the only habitations in the country.

“Improbable as it may seem, the owners say that they raise potatoes, etc. Surely these mountains should be of gold and silver to compensate for the sterility of the soil.” The prospect did not make Lockwood hilarious, and he frankly said that he was tired of army-life, and that eating almost nothing but bacon, and going without any comforts caused him to sigh for a return to the old Annapolis farm. He had not the ambition to enjoy the glory of army-life in such a wilderness. It might, indeed, give one a competency, but it was a gold-mine in Arizona that had recently given a fortune of fifty thousand dollars to one of the officers of his regiment. After a short stay at Garland and Alamosa, and catching a glimpse of the Del Norte, the command reached the Cochetapa Pass, near Los Pinos and the summit of the Rocky Mountains; and now the lieutenant began to experience a kind of mountain-fever, which he called a weird condition of the system. He was troubled with the shortness of breath usual at great altitudes. The six hundred mules drawing the train of one hundred wagons had great difficulty in passing through what he called the terrible cañons. Early in June, 1880, he reached the Uncompahgre River, where the command encamped. Hardly had he obtained any relaxation before an order came from Fort Leavenworth, detailing a general court and making him the judge advocate, thereby proving that there was not much rest for an officer of recognized ability. While anxious to make money, he did not, while among the mountains, follow the example of certain fellow-officers, who devoted some attention to mining speculations, their mode of operating being as follows: “For example, they secure the services of a competent man, provide him with food, etc., and send him out to prospect. Those in the Nineteenth have received a very flattering letter from their man, who has struck a very rich vein, according to his account. But this and all similar ventures are mere chance. Money, to the amount of twenty-five or fifty dollars, seems little to invest in enterprises that may pay thousands; but these investments count up and are not pleasant to consider when all ends in failure. One of the officers has invested not less than thirty-three hundred dollars in this mine-hunting business. He goes it alone, and has all the enthusiasm of an old miner.” Not caring to waste his money in speculations of this sort, he improved his leisure in exploring the scenery of the region, especially some cañons where the walls were several thousand feet high, and also a stream called Cow Creek, where he had some superb fishing and caught the largest trout he had ever seen, while his companions killed a number of deer. Among the scenes in which he was especially interested was a hot spring which measured thirty feet across, a waterfall two hundred feet high, and a small mining hamlet nestled in a pocket of the mountains, and where, funny to relate, he and his companions were suspected to be tramps or horse-thieves. Returning to his regular cantonment on the Uncompahgre, he was informed of a pending trouble with the Ute Indians, when, according to his habit, he expressed this decided opinion: “If the sentimentalists on Indian questions in the East could be brought out here and made to feel and suffer the outrages which these savages inflict on isolated settlers, there would not be so many to support the Interior Department in its abominable prejudice in all questions of Whites vs. Indians.”

In one of his letters, written from a cantonment in Colorado, he mentions with pain the temporary fall of one of his brother officers, who, while playing a game of poker, was charged with dishonesty, thereby pocketing a hundred dollars. The poor fellow had been placed in arrest and was to have a trial. In speaking of his manner of killing time in his Colorado camp, he alludes to the fact of having two setter dogs, which he was training for use and his own amusement, and further says that when not playing a game of billiards at the store near the camp, he spent his time in reading, the books then occupying his attention being, Tyler’s “Baconian Philosophy,” which he greatly admired; Swinton’s “History of the Rebellion,” which he criticised with some severity; and Green’s “Russian Campaign in Turkey,” which interested him greatly.

VI.
PREPARING FOR THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

From this point, the story of Lieutenant Lockwood’s life will be chiefly given from the records which he kept during his sojourn in the Arctic regions. For reasons which the general reader will appreciate, all merely technical and official remarks have been omitted, and only those retained which are calculated to illustrate the personal character of the man and officer, it being understood that his journals, illustrating his merits and labors, will be fully set forth in the official history, to be hereafter published, of the expedition with which he was so honorably identified.

In 1880 it was proposed by an International Polar Commission, for the purpose of elucidating in behalf of science the phenomena of the weather and of the magnetic needle, that meteorological stations should be established by various countries in different parts of the polar regions. The Congress of the United States made an appropriation for establishing a scientific colony at the two places designated for the occupation of the Americans—viz., Point Barrow, in Alaska, and Lady Franklin Bay, in Grinnell Land. These stations were to be occupied for from one to three years. At the time the expedition was being organized in Washington for the latter place, Lieutenant Lockwood was on a visit to his parents in that city. Taking a special interest in the operations of the Signal-Service Bureau, which had the business in charge, he forthwith volunteered for the proposed expedition, and his services were accepted by the Secretary of War. When the party for the Lady Franklin Bay station was fully organized, it consisted of First-Lieutenant Adolphus W. Greely, U. S. A., commander; Lieutenants F. F. Kislingbury and James B. Lockwood, U. S. A., as assistants; and Dr. O. Pavy, as surgeon and naturalist; with a force of twenty-two sergeants, corporals, and privates, all connected with the army, and whose names are given as follows: Edward Israel, Winfield S. Jewell, George W. Rice, David O. Ralston, Hampden S. Gardiner, sergeants in the Signal Corps; William H. Cross, sergeant in the general service; David L. Brainard and David Linn, sergeants of cavalry; Nicholas Saler, corporal of infantry; Joseph Ellison, corporal of infantry; Charles B. Henry, Maurice Connell, Jacob Bender, Francis Long, William Whistler, Henry Biederbick, Julius R. Fredericks, William A. Ellis, and Roderick R. Schneider, privates in various branches of the army; and, finally, two Esquimaux, Jans Edwards and Frederick Christiansen, of Greenland.

In view of the possibility that Lady Franklin Bay might become a permanent station, all the preliminary arrangements were made as complete as possible. A steamer called the Proteus was secured for conveying the expedition to Lady Franklin Bay, and she was ordered to await the arrival of the explorers at the port of St. John’s, in Newfoundland. Lieutenant Lockwood sailed in a steamer from Baltimore with the party and reached St. John’s late in June.

Here it may not be out of place to submit a few remarks on the utility of these Arctic explorations, which are sometimes criticised by people who, without due consideration, jump to hasty conclusions. In former times their main object was to find open passages between the northern regions of Europe, Asia, and America, and to settle the problem of the north pole; and statistics show that when these expeditions have confined their operations within reasonable limits, the mortality attending them has been remarkably small—less than in ordinary commercial voyages. Sir John Franklin went far beyond these limits, and left no monuments by which he could be traced. De Long put his ship into the polar ice with the design of moving with the polar drift. The Greely Expedition was expected to be confined, and was confined, to the well-known waters of Smith’s Sound. It could, therefore, be reached at any time, and, if necessary, it could fall back upon a point accessible at all times. All that was required to secure its safe return was a well-chosen base, and an absolute certainty that this base would be maintained. Unfortunately, neither requirement was fulfilled, and hence nineteen men lost their lives. Sledge-journeys from established bases, though fraught with great labor and discomfort, have never been attended with serious loss of life. It is now about one thousand years since the first Arctic voyage was made, and their aggregate usefulness can hardly be questioned when we remember that they have developed fisheries that have built up the commerce and navies of nations, and that the direct return into the exchange of England has been far more than the cost to her of all her Arctic explorations. The Polar Commission, already alluded to, inaugurated a new policy in regard to Arctic explorations, and one whose utility can not be questioned. It had its origin, in 1875, in the mind of a German discoverer named Carl Weyprecht; and in the opinion of many of the leading minds of the world, the meteorological observations inaugurated by him have done much, and will do much more, to rectify errors in the polar problem and bring to light information about the ice zones, which will give the observers a prominent position in scientific history. According to Professor Joseph Henry, the problems connected with physical geography and science, which are yet unsolved, are the determination of the figure and of the magnetism of the earth, complete knowledge of the tides of the ocean, the winds of the globe, and the influence of extreme cold on animal and vegetable life. Surely the men who voluntarily toil and suffer in their efforts to obtain the needed light on all these subjects, are quite as worthily employed as those who struggle for riches or political fame. In the Professor’s opinion, all the branches of science above mentioned are indirectly connected with the well-being of man, and tend not only to enlarge his sphere of mental activity, but to promote the application of science to the arts of life. A French writer, after applauding the plans of the Polar Commission, concludes his remarks as follows: “The larger number of the civilized nations are striving by scientific means to wrest the mysterious secrets of the deep from the hidden recesses of the North.” In 1884 the number of nations that had entered heartily into the project was thirteen; fifteen polar stations, and over forty auxiliary stations, had already been established. That the reader may fully understand the operations and exploits which are to be chronicled in the subsequent pages of this volume, it may be well to submit the subjoined extract from the official report of General W. B. Hazen, Chief of the United States Signal Service, for the year 1881: “Owing to the very mobile nature of the atmosphere, the changes taking place on one portion of the globe, especially in the Arctic zone, quickly affect regions very distant therefrom. The study of the weather in Europe and America can not be successfully prosecuted without a daily map of the whole northern hemisphere, and the great blank space of the Arctic region upon our simultaneous international chart has long been a subject of regret to meteorologists. The general object is to accomplish, by observations made in concert at numerous stations, such additions to our knowledge as can not be acquired by isolated or desultory traveling parties. No special attempt will be made at geographical exploration, and neither expedition is in any sense expected to reach the north pole. The single object is to elucidate the phenomena of the weather and of the magnetic needle as they occur in America and Europe, by means of observations taken in the region where the most remarkable disturbances seem to have their origin.”

While the foregoing were to be considered as the primary considerations, it was expressly stated in the official instructions, that sledging parties, generally, should work in the interests of exploration and discovery, and should be conducted with all possible care and fidelity. Careful attention was also to be given to the collection of specimens of the animal, mineral, and vegetable kingdoms. It will be seen that all that was accomplished by Lieutenant Lockwood was instigated by the mandate connected with the use of the sledge.

It thus appears that the Greely expedition was not only intended to accomplish a good work, but that in all human probability the same might have been accomplished without serious loss of life. That there was a deplorable loss of life, we can only lament, leaving for others to point out the causes of the disaster which befell the expedition.

VII.
FROM NEWFOUNDLAND TO LADY FRANKLIN BAY.

All things being ready, the Greely Expedition left St. John’s, Newfoundland, for Lady Franklin Bay, on Thursday, July 7, 1881, in the steamer Proteus, Captain Pike. She was a barkentine, measuring two hundred and fifty feet in length, and having a burden of six hundred tons. Built in Scotland for the whaling and sealing service, she had already made several successful voyages within the Arctic Circle and on the Labrador coast. The departure of the ship elicited no demonstration from the people on the dock, excepting a few cheers from some warm-hearted fishermen. Whether the good people of Newfoundland were disgusted because they could not sell any more supplies at extravagant prices, or were displeased with the Yankee explorers for presuming to compete with Englishmen in the icy North, are questions not to be easily solved.

During his stay in St. John’s, Lieutenant Lockwood wrote a letter to his mother, in which he gave the following account of the city:

“St. John’s is a queer and forlorn old place; everything is antiquated, slow, and behind the times in every respect. The few hotels are more like third-class boarding-houses; a livery-stable is not to be found in this city of thirty thousand. This condition of affairs is said to be due to the religion of the place, which is Roman Catholic. It is charged that ignorance and poverty are what this church most thrives on, and it is certainly a thriving church here. The other day the shops were all closed, and the place assumed the appearance of Sunday—it was a holy day for their patron saints, Peter and Paul. Only two classes here—the poor and the rich—and everything accords with the former class. Crooked streets and mean, forlorn, dirty houses everywhere. The only respectable public buildings are the Catholic churches and the convents.”

With the wind favorable, the sea calm, the sky clear, and all in good spirits, away went the vessel on her voyage to the North. A steam-launch, called the Lady Greely, rested securely on the main deck. It was arranged that the sergeants of the expedition should sleep in the cabin, eating at the second table, and the rest of the men live forward; and, though somewhat crowded, it was hoped they would all be comfortable. During the first twenty-four hours, two hundred miles were made. Lieutenant Greely and most of the men were sea-sick. At sunset on the second day out, the first iceberg was seen, and attracted the special attention of the land-lubbers. On the 9th, gales from the northwest set in, and the sick men became worse—the thermometer marking forty degrees, the air being damp and uncomfortable. The wind moderated in the evening, but left the sea very rough, so that the steam-launch had to be secured in her cradle by braces. Although then in the track of the St. Lawrence trade, not a single vessel was seen, suggesting the idea that business was not flourishing. As to Lieutenant Lockwood, he was in good spirits, and amused himself by reading Kennan’s interesting book on Siberian life. On the following day the sea went down, and the sick men came up from their berths and were able to resume their places at the table, Lockwood and Kislingbury being the only ones who had escaped sea-sickness. When the former had finished Kennan’s book, he took up Barrow’s “Voyage within the Arctic Circle,” reading it in the presence of several icebergs, which appeared as if they intended to welcome the band of Yankee adventurers to their inhospitable domain.

On the morning of the 11th, notwithstanding the promise of fine summer weather, the sky became overcast, and at noon the captain, assisted by the volunteers, including Lockwood, Israel, and Gardiner, could hardly succeed in getting observations, and though they reckoned the latitude at 58°, it was not reliable. Rain, attended with high winds or gales, succeeded, the sufferers from sea-sickness finding refuge in their berths. Ellis, one of the sergeants, suffered more than the others, having refused all food since leaving port. They could give him no aid save a little wine and beef-tea. The cold, cheerless weather depressed the spirits of all, but they hoped to get used to it. The days were sensibly growing longer, beginning at 1.45 A. M. and closing at 10 P. M. They now remarked the absence of icebergs and ice-floes, and wondered whether this meant that the previous winter in the north had been so mild that but little ice had formed, or that the spring had been so backward that but little had become detached and drifted southward. They had learned at St. John’s that the late winter had been the mildest ever known there. At the close of the 11th, no land was in sight, and they had made seven hundred miles. The steward informed Lockwood that the men were growling about their food, which was the same as that received in the cabin. He thought this a bad sign for Arctic explorers, but tried to make matters more satisfactory.

The next day was disagreeable, a cold rain falling; and though a strong head-wind was blowing, the sea was smooth, betokening land or ice, it was supposed. Accordingly, at 9 P. M., they were aroused by the cry of “ice ahead,” and, sure enough, there was seen, extending over 90° of the horizon, the white line indicating an ice-floe. Coming up to the ice, they found it to consist of detached pieces flowing southward. Some of these assumed the most fantastic shapes—dogs, seals, and other animals, and even houses and castles, readily presenting themselves to the imagination. One piece looked like an old ruin. The pillars, dome, and vaulted roof, all were there; indeed, the effect was perfect. Again, other pieces presented varieties of color most beautiful and remarkable. Generally, the lower parts being dark blue, were surmounted by a stratum of pure white, resembling snow, but really the purest ice. They were two hours in getting through this floe. Although daylight was continuous, they could not, because of fogs, distinguish the hours of sunrise or sunset.

On the following day the weather was still cloudy, and another ice-floe detained them two hours. They also saw many isolated pieces and large icebergs in the distance. This ice, it was said, came from the east coast of Greenland with a current which, flowing around Cape Farewell, passes up the west coast half way to Disco. It still proved interesting to the voyagers by reason of its fantastic shapes and diversified colors—white, blue, and green. It rose a few feet above the water-line, and the submerged portion of the floe colored the water a most beautiful green. Seals were then seen for the first time, basking in the sun on the ice. Judging from the increased seas, they expected no more ice-floes in front. The temperature also indicated this, for it was sensibly warmer. Lockwood, who seemed never to be idle, now finished Barrow and took up Captain Nares’s “British Expedition of 1875-’76,” reading, writing, and Bowditch occupying much of his time. The crow’s nest was hoisted to the main-top on that day. This was a large barrel or hogshead with peep-holes on the side and a trap beneath. This afforded shelter for a man posted there who looked out for the ice and the best way of getting through it.

On the 16th, fogs detained them and interfered with noon observations, but, lifting at three o’clock, they sighted the Greenland coast on the starboard bow, distant fifteen miles. The coast-line appeared exceedingly rugged and broken, and the interior, mountainous with deep ravines running very abruptly down to the sea. The mountain-tops were covered with snow, but generally the sides were bare of snow except the ravines, which seemed to be filled up entirely. This range of mountains reminded Lockwood of the Uncompahgre chain in Colorado as seen from Los Pinos Valley. They saw the usual number of gulls and a species of duck called the sea-pigeon, also several whales blowing and spouting in the distance, surrounded by flocks of small birds which seemed to feed on their offal. Kislingbury and the steward tried rifles on these whales, but without success. One whale being near by, with apparent design to cross the track of the vessel, was met by the rifle-ball, but with no other effect than to cause him to throw up his tail and dive below the surface. The thermometer rose to 50° on that day, rendering the deck, where all were assembled to view the prospect, quite comfortable. They then first witnessed the sunset since leaving St. John’s, because of the fogs and clouds that had constantly attended the voyage. The sun’s disk seemed greatly flattened just as it disappeared at 10.20, and presented much the appearance of a huge mushroom seen edgewise. Enough of twilight remained at midnight to render the horizon visible.

On the 16th, they steamed cautiously through the fog, making but fourteen knots between noon and 6 P. M. Then the high, bold bluffs forming the southern coast of Disco Island loomed up in the distance directly ahead. These bluffs are almost vertical and probably five hundred feet high, and are desolate and barren in the extreme. Their continuity is interrupted only by deep ravines, or cañons, which break through at various angles to the sea. They there found themselves in the midst of a hundred icebergs of every conceivable form and size, and in color of the purest white, resembling in the distance huge mountains of chalk. One of the sights that attracted special notice consisted of two bergs connected by an immense arch high enough overhead for the ship to sail beneath, reminding Lockwood of the Natural Bridge of Virginia. On near approach it looked like marble and was quite as smooth. Some time afterward, and when two miles away, a signal-gun was fired for a pilot. This was followed by a rumbling noise, which caused the voyagers to look back, when they were surprised to see this immense arch tumble over and fall into the sea, throwing the spray a hundred feet into the air and producing a commotion of the sea sensible two miles away, and soon after followed by a noise like distant thunder. Most truly sublime were both spectacle and catastrophe! Icebergs are regarded as very dangerous both by the Esquimaux and by experienced Arctic travelers, and are given a wide berth.

Lockwood, Natives, and Kyack at Disco, Greenland.

Moving on at a low speed, the steamer was finally boarded by a white man attended by an Esquimaux, the former introducing himself as Mr. Gleichen, the Governor of Godhaven, Lively, or Disco, as the capital is variously called. The vessel was soon twisted through the narrow opening behind which the town lies, and the voyagers found themselves in the snuggest and smallest harbor, for its depth of water, that any of the party had ever seen. On one side were the high cliffs, barren and rugged, and on the other the few habitations which constituted the place, the only dwellings presenting an appearance of anything more than squalid huts being those of the governor and of the inspector, a Mr. Smith. Besides the dwellings, there were several warehouses and a church, all of wood. The huts of the natives were to some extent of wood, but strengthened and made warm by thick walls of sod reaching to the eaves.

Greely, Kislingbury, and Lockwood immediately went ashore to visit the inspector, whose house stood near the water and presented a neat appearance. Within they found quite an air of comfort and refinement. A piano, a small billiard-table, a well-filled book-case, carpets, pictures, and many other evidences of civilization and even elegance were there. They found the wife of the inspector very pleasant and speaking English fluently, while her daughter and a governess, though speaking English with difficulty, were well dressed and ladylike. After taking wine with these hospitable ladies, the lieutenants left their commander to continue the conversation and wandered forth to view the town. Passing without mishap several cross-looking Esquimaux dogs, they found themselves in what seemed a carpenter’s shop, on the large, bare floor of which a dance was in progress. After playing spectators for some time they indulged in a waltz with the prettiest girls in the room, and were surprised and pleased to find how well they got along together. Their round dances were found to be like many figures of the “German” as danced in the United States. Kislingbury gave the natives an exhibition of the Indian dance, and thus became a favorite with them.

The dress of the men consisted of a pair of sealskin pantaloons and a woolen or checked shirt. That of the women was very peculiar—indeed, unique. One of the girls, whose dress may be taken to illustrate all, wore a pair of seal-skin pantalets bound at the hips by a red scarf and terminating just above the knees, where they met the white canvas tops of a pair of boots, or rather leggings. These reached to the calf, and there met the tops of red seal-skin bootlets, into which they were inserted. These leggings were starched and prettily fringed at the top, and their color indicated the state as to matrimony of the wearer, white being reserved for maidens, and colors for those that were married. This distinction was afterward found to be general. The pantalets were plain, except some red leather pieces sewed on in front by way of ornament. The upper garment consisted of a pretty, fancy-colored cassock, or jacket, extending barely to the hips, replaced in cold weather by the same of seal-skin with a hood. The upper part of the jacket was concealed by a necklace, or rather by several necklaces, sewed together flat, which formed a collar covering the bosom and shoulders. The head was covered by a kind of chaplet formed of fancy-colored cloth, and the hair was done up in a queue, which extended upward and backward from the top of the head, and was tied with colored ribbon. The wrists and neck were encircled with boas of dark-colored furs, which contrasted well with the bright-colored skin. The arms were bare to the short sleeves of the jacket, and on the fingers were a number of rings. So much for the Disco belles!

The dancing officers did not reach their ship until after midnight, and soon after the sun rose, flooding all nature with his glorious light, and seemingly affecting natives and strangers alike, for both were seen standing around to admire and enjoy the benediction of nature.

Inspector Smith visited the steamer, dressed in a military coat with brass buttons, and military cap with wide gold-lace band, but wearing seal-skin trousers. The strangers soon found themselves surrounded by a fleet of Esquimaux boats, called kyacks, resembling in form a cigar cut in half lengthwise and turned up at both ends. The framework of wood was covered with seal-skin with the hair removed. In the center was a hole into which the occupant inserted the lower part of his body to the hips, drawing up at the same time a cylindrical piece of seal-skin which was attached to the rim of the hole. When the top of this is gathered up and secured over his chest, the man and boat are practically one, and both are water-proof under all circumstances. The upper surface of the kyack is but an inch or two above the water when smooth, and when rough, of course it is frequently submerged entirely. In this craft the kyacker braves the billows of the open sea, and, provided with lance and harpoon to slay his game, and bladder and rope to mark its flight when struck and buoy up its body when killed, he attacks the seal, walrus, or even the narwhal. In South Greenland, where there is more open water, the kyackers become very expert, and, by means of their short, two-bladed paddles, can easily right themselves when upset, or even perform a complete revolution without changing position or posture.

On Sunday, the 17th, Lieutenant Lockwood called on the governor, and then went into many of the houses of the place; he found the natives polite and hospitable, living in clean, well-built huts, whose interior presented nothing peculiar except that about one third of the floor was raised a few feet, constituting a platform, which was used as the sleeping-couch of the whole family by night, and by day as a place of deposit for articles in daily use. The walls were adorned with rough prints or illustrations from European and American papers. In one house was seen a translation of the Psalms into Esquimaux. Their words are run together, as in the German language. Lockwood made some purchases, giving in return an old pair of pantaloons, old clothes being a circulating medium, and preferred to money. He was surprised to find that these people had a paper currency, the units being the ocre and the crown, one hundred ocres making one crown, while the crown is worth about an English shilling. In dealing with one another, the ocre seems to go a good way, but not so when a stranger is dealt with; and to do much shopping with this currency, one must carry a load of paper equal to what was required of Confederate currency in wartimes to buy a barrel of flour. The coins were of copper, valued each at five ocres.

On the following day, Lieutenants Greely, Kislingbury, and Lockwood, all dined at four o’clock with the inspector’s family, by invitation of his wife, in the absence of her husband on official duty; the courses being soup, fish, eider-duck, and canned green peas, with a dessert of jelly; wines and brandy being served with the courses. The cooking and serving were excellent, the waitress an Esquimaux damsel in pantalets. Afterward, with others, they called on the governor, and with him went down to witness a dance. Lockwood learned that the population of the two divisions of North and South Greenland together was about nine thousand souls.

On the 19th, at the request of Lieutenant Greely, Lockwood made an exploration of the mountain-cliffs south of the town. After a long tramp over the soggy moss, and up steep cliffs, much annoyed by innumerable mosquitoes, he returned to dinner, with very little information worthy of mention. After superintending some stowage, he again called to see Mrs. Smith, the inspector’s wife, and enjoyed her excellent piano-music, to say nothing of the wine and cigars she offered. Then he went to the dance, but not until after the men had left. These Greenland dances, as already intimated, resemble the Virginia reel, differing only in the alternate chasing of the partners through the two rows till caught.

Having completed their stowage and coaling, and having taken on board fourteen dogs with their food, they would have left Disco but for the fogs. Dr. Pavy, who had been left there by Howgate, joined the party on the 20th, as surgeon, as Mr. Clay was expected to do at Ritenbank. They had some music on the chapel organ in the evening, which was well rendered.

The penning of the dogs was a scene of excitement and amusement. Their snarling and biting and fighting had no end until one of the number present was acknowledged, for his prowess and valor, the victor by all the others. Then the battle ceased, but only until there was a new arrival, when the battle was renewed and the parvenu put hors de combat, or declared king. In due time the steamer left Disco, and arrived at Ritenbank between 10 and 12 A. M. The harbor was found to be quite roomy and the entrance wide and deep; icebergs float into it, and thus render Ritenbank less desirable as a harbor than Disco. While there, with Mr. Clay (who now joined the expedition) and some of the men, Lockwood visited the neighboring bird mountains or looneries, rowing up a fiord some three miles distant. The approach to these was manifested by the commotion among the innumerable eider-ducks and other wild fowl flying overhead, swimming in the water around, or occupying the narrow ledges of the vertical cliffs on either side, some of which were five hundred feet high and covered with birds. The shot used being too small, would kill only at short range, and it was difficult to obtain the game; consequently they got only seventy fowls of various kinds. On their return they visited an Innuit burying-ground, which, from its antiquity, must contain many of the natives, whose blood is much purer than that of the present stock; for it is said the present Esquimaux blood is now very much mixed. The graves were oblong piles of lichen-covered stones, containing the moldering skeletons, which were generally in a sitting posture. But little regard is paid to the dead in Greenland. Influenza, and consumption induced thereby, are rapidly carrying off the natives, and this is increased by uncleanly habits, improper food, and bad ventilation, the latter aggravated by the introduction of small stoves into their close houses. The present longevity, it is said, averages thirty-three years.

The prevailing fogs greatly decreased the pleasure the explorers would have had in viewing the grand scenery in the passage to Upernavik, which they reached on the 23d of July, or in about fifteen days from Newfoundland. They had in sight numbers of icebergs, some of immense size. The whole western coast of Greenland is skirted with islands, separated from each other and the mainland by deep fiords. If it were not for the fogs, a pleasant summer excursion could be made through these fiords to the everlasting barrier of glaciers, which render the interior a veritable land of desolation.

Very soon after the expedition had arrived at Upernavik, it was found necessary for some one to go to a place called Proven, to obtain Esquimaux guides and a supply of Arctic clothing, and to Lieutenant Lockwood was assigned this duty. He and his helpers boarded the steam-launch, and, with Governor Elburg as guide, proceeded on their way through an inner passage leading to the place of destination. Their course lay along rocky and precipitous cliffs, many of them covered with auks and other wild fowl. The cliffs attained an elevation of two and three thousand feet, and were so smooth and regular as to have the appearance of having been made by man. Without any shore whatever, large ships could lie alongside in safety. On their arrival at Proven, they saw the whole population in their picturesque costumes lining the shore, to view what they had never seen before—a craft moving without oars or sails.

Near the shore were located four large warehouses where seal-oil was deposited before shipment, and where also were kept by the Danish Government supplies of provisions for issue to the natives in case of emergency. The huts of the natives were found still more primitive than those at Disco, for here the entrance was through a long, low gallery, requiring one to grope in darkness almost on hands and knees. Lockwood softened the heart of the occupant of one by presents of tobacco, and induced him to play on his fiddle simple airs which he had picked up from whaling-crews. This brought in all the damsels of the town, and soon waltzes and other dances prevailed. The lieutenant did not consider it beneath his dignity to “show a heel.” He unfortunately answered affirmatively to the question, “Are you big captain?” and was also imprudent in giving an old lady a half-dozen ocres. He was at once pounced upon by every one as lawful prey, and, what through begging, extortion, and other means, the “big captain” was soon rid of all his change, and might have been reduced to a state of nudity but for the timely arrival of the governor, who took him home to dine and to lodge. The soup, though sweet to the taste, was good; floating in it were lemon-peel and raisins. Next came reindeer-steaks cooked in wine and most delicious. Potatoes were the only vegetable. Cooking and serving excellent. Brandy, beer, and wine in profusion. The meal terminated by a general hand-shaking, according to custom, and the governor kissed his wife. The lodging was equally agreeable, affording the luxury of a clean feather bed. In the morning, and while yet in bed, a young Esquimaux damsel in pantalets brought the American a cup of strong coffee with a few crackers. That day he took on board the launch two Esquimaux, Frederick Christiansen and Jans Edwards, lashing their kyacks behind, also the seal-skin, dog-skin, and other clothing they had come for, and at midnight left amid the hearty cheers of the natives and the tears and lamentations of the friends of Jans and Frederick who had come to see them off.

After an uneventful passage, and stopping only to add one hundred and twenty-seven birds to their larder, the launch reached the ship at 10 A. M. on the 25th. Lieutenant Kislingbury and a crew in the whale-boat afterward went to Sanderson’s Hope Island and secured several hundred more, so that there was no scarcity of fresh food. In the mean time some new dogs were secured, so that the total number now on hand was thirty-two.

The ship left Upernavik on the 29th, and, keeping the inner passage, made her way toward the north.

While crossing Melville Bay on the 30th, there was no ice in sight except bergs, and the sun shone brightly. That state of things was a great surprise to the explorers, as here it was that McClintock was frozen in for a whole year, and Nares congratulated himself in having passed the bay without detention. Indeed, Melville Bay has always been regarded as the bête noire of Arctic travel. An Arctic bear found on a broken pack of floating ice was killed by Lieutenant Kislingbury, and, when hoisted on board, was found to weigh a thousand pounds and to measure seven feet two inches in length. They were probably fifty miles from land at the time.

On the last day of July, the Proteus party sighted land, which they supposed to be Cape Dudley Diggs, north of Melville’s Bay. Much old floating ice was seen, but so rotten as to offer no obstruction. Several seals and many little auks were killed and secured.

About this time Lockwood and others observed tokens of disrespect and insubordination on the part of some of the men, which were traced to a certain corporal as ringleader. Lockwood watched him with care, and urged the propriety of sending him home by the first opportunity, which was afterward done.

On one occasion, toward evening, the voyagers witnessed the overturning of an iceberg three hundred feet long and one hundred and fifty feet high. After capsizing, it continued to revolve on several axes for some time. Its change of base was preceded by the fall of several detached pieces, thus shifting its center of gravity.

The next day, August 1st, was clear and cool, and without fog. Passed Dudley Diggs at noon and then steered for Gary Islands, sighting them three hours later. The officers looked hard for the crimson cliffs near Dudley Diggs noticed by Sir John Ross, but observed only some slight discoloration of the snow. The glacier near this cape seemed to be two or three miles long; at the sea-shore, of inconsiderable height, but in the background, attaining an imposing elevation. The ship’s compasses, as usual in this latitude, were all crazy, occasioning some bewilderment to the captain. The bear and seal meats were duly served on shipboard, and pronounced palatable by all, though to some the bear-meat was slightly fishy. Two boats with all the officers and others landed on the most easterly of the Cary Islands, and proceeded at once to find and inspect the cache of provisions—thirty-six hundred rations—left there by Sir George Nares for his own safety. They were apparently in good condition, notwithstanding many of the barrels resting on their ends afforded opportunity for rain and snow-water to enter. Some biscuits were found moldy. Replaced the Nares record by a copy, and also left a full record of the Proteus. There was found there an excellent whale-boat, turned bottom upward, with oars and sails complete. This Lockwood urged Lieutenant Greely to take along, but he preferred getting the one at Foulke Point. The former regarded the supply of boats as too small, and circumstances might arise which would cause them to regret not using this one. They had only the steam-launch, a twenty-four-feet whale-boat, and a small, fourteen-feet row-boat—the whale-boat being the only one to be depended on in case of accident. The boat at Point Foulke was thought to be inferior. They picked up driftwood, an oar, and some burned pieces of a ship’s stem or stern. They also saw some red snow, and shot several eider-ducks. The Cary Islands were found to be barren masses of rocks without vegetation.

The steamer came to anchor at Littleton Island at 9 A. M. on the 2d of August, just as the steering-gear gave way. A party went to “Life-boat Cove” and brought back a number of articles left by the Polaris Expedition of 1873. They saw neither Esquimaux nor reindeer, but shot a walrus. Lieutenant Greely made an effort to find the cairn left there by Nares, and the letters left for Nares by the Pandora. He found the letters but not the cairn, though there was a dismantled cairn afterward seen by others. Lockwood with a party of men put ashore several tons of coal, which, as it had to be carried up some thirty feet above the sea-level, he found no easy job. While thus engaged, this party had an adventure with some walruses, not unattended with danger. Having excited a drove of them by a simultaneous fire, the animals came toward the boat, and at one time held its inmates in peril. Lockwood alone was prepared to meet the foremost, and by good luck slew one of them, when all the rest disappeared. The walrus can be killed only through the brain, and when wounded, the animal is exceedingly ferocious. Numberless boats have been destroyed by them. Lamont thinks the walrus superior to the bear for food. Those they saw were evidently a female and her young, and their safety was in having killed the mother. Littleton Island affords a good illustration of these shores. The sides rise precipitously, sometimes in steps composed of immense cubes of trap-rock, sometimes in steep slopes formed from the crumbling of the same. The top of the island is seven hundred feet high, according to Nares, and generally quite level. Of soil, there is none. The summit afforded a fine view of the sound, though somewhat obstructed by fog. No floating ice; and the western coast with its snowy mountains quite distinct.

Having crossed the strait during the night of the 2d of August, in the early morning they ran along the western coast, which was very distinct and picturesque, the bluffs and headlands being reflected by the smooth sea. Striking the western coast near Cape Sabine, at 8 A. M. they reached Cape Hawkes, a headland over a thousand feet high and very picturesque. While Lieutenants Greely and Kislingbury visited the cairn there, Dr. Pavy and Lieutenant Lockwood went to find the record on Washington Irving Island, both left by Nares. They then continued their way with slight interruptions from fogs until abreast of Franklin Island, when they were obliged to lay-to because of fog. They had not been delayed a moment by ice, and were surprised to see so little of it. Their success emboldened them to hope that they might reach Lady Franklin Bay without obstruction. Indeed, they even thought of inducing Captain Pike to run on until he reached the north pole itself, or at least till he attained a higher latitude than did Nares. One of the dogs having died, they became impressed with the thought that the poor curs suffered much from being cooped up and from the damp weather. The party continued on their way up Kennedy Channel with everything favorable, having the finest weather yet seen; air soft and balmy, sky clear, and water smooth.

On reaching the vicinity of Franklin Island and Carl Ritter Bay, they left there a small deposit of hard bread, pemmican, and rum, and continued on their way rejoicing; and so onward until nearly 10 P. M., when, just above Cape Lieber, they encountered an impenetrable pack extending all the way across the channel, and as far ahead as they could see. The ship made a savage dash at it, but in vain, and thus, but eight miles from Lady Franklin Bay, and with Cape Baird in full view, they were brought to a standstill. The mountains along the coast were covered with snow, but the valleys and low places were bare. The prominent objects of the landscape were all distinctly seen from their position—Capes Lieber and Baird on the left, Franklin, Hans, and Hanna Islands in the rear and left, and, in the far distance, Polaris Promontory and Petermann’s Fiord, with the glacier beyond. A party that went on shore saw traces of the musk-ox, but no animals were seen.

Several of the officers and men attempted the ascent of the promontory of Cape Lieber, a precipitous cliff three thousand feet high, which seemed but a stone’s throw away, but to reach which required a long, cold row, and then a fatiguing and painful climb. Lockwood and two only of the party succeeded. The difficulty was in the giving way of the crumbling slate-rock, which formed an incline of 45°. Those that reached the summit were rewarded by a grand view, extending to the limit of vision. On their return, after clambering over some rocks cropping out of the slippery snow and ice, they chose a short cut and came down at a run, or rather slide, followed by a miniature avalanche of débris. On the 6th of August, it was found that the icy barrier, which evidently came from the Polar Sea, was moving south, carrying the steamer along. Some game was seen in both air and water, but none taken. Parties attempted to reach the shore on the ice, but were recalled by signal, as moving ice was seen from the ship, and also open water near the shore.

From this point they slowly drifted south, with high winds from the north which opened up lanes of water which they did not think safe to enter. The total drift amounted to ten miles. With the lowering of temperature, it was suggested that it would be well to move across the channel, along the pack, and, if needful, land on the Greenland shore, possibly where Hall had wintered.

On the 11th of August, the ice barrier gave way under a change of wind and weather, leaving the passage open. Under full steam and sail, and with beautiful weather, they soon regained all the distance they had lost by drift, passed Cape Lieber, and came abreast of Cape Baird. Thence forcing their way through the broken ice of the bay, and reaching Bellot Island, which marks the beginning of Discovery Harbor, they cut their way to a secure spot for the ship to rest in. And thus ended the voyage to Lady Franklin Bay or Sound. As this harbor, or a spot in its vicinity called Fort Conger, was the one where the Signal-Service station was to be established, the steamer Proteus here ended her voyage, soon to return to Newfoundland. Discovery Harbor, which was to be their home, is an indentation of the bay covered by Bellot Island on the south. This indentation extends east and west some ten miles, and is probably two or three miles from north to south. Inclosing the harbor on three sides is a line of rugged bluffs and hills (or rather mountains, for they are two thousand feet high), those on the east side sloping back gradually, but elsewhere precipitous and rugged in the extreme. Thus, with Bellot’s Island fifteen hundred feet high on the south, was formed a harbor, landlocked and most admirably sheltered.

VIII.
HOUSE-BUILDING AND LOCAL EXPLORATIONS.

Immediately after the explorers had anchored their ship in Discovery Harbor, they saw a drove of musk-oxen leisurely ascending the neighboring hills, which they climbed with the facility of goats. This was indeed a cheerful prospect for men in so isolated a region and without fresh meat, and many of them started forthwith in pursuit of the game, working their way to the shore on the ice, but were compelled to return after a vain attempt to follow the animals over the hills.

Hitherto there had been no opportunity to make any special discoveries, but now a comparatively new field, to which the explorers were to devote all their energies, came into view. Discovery, however, was to be always subordinated to the duties of meteorological observations. As this narrative proceeds, it will be seen that Lieutenant Lockwood was not only eminently active at all times, but most successful as an explorer.

It being desirable to establish the station as near as possible to the coal-mine on Watercourse Bay, Lockwood was dispatched with Messrs. Clay and Ryan, to report as to the practicability of carrying out this, the original intention. According to the map prepared by Nares, this bay lies seven miles distant on the strait, and is separated from Discovery Harbor by the mountain-ridge on the east, which terminates southward in Distant Cape. They attempted the passage across these hills, following a ravine leading in the proper direction, and had gone only a short distance when they saw seven musk-oxen quietly grazing. Making a détour, they thought to take them unawares, but soon saw them move away to some distance up a steep incline. Expending vainly a few shots at long range, they followed the animals up the hill, over a steep ledge of rocks, and into a valley on the other side. Here the men halted, concealed from view, and arranged plans for their capture. The animals were covered by precipitous rocks on one side. Clay, Ryan, and Lockwood approached them simultaneously on the other three sides, and thus had them surrounded and at their mercy. Some depressions and other irregularities of the ground enabled the hunters, by crouching low down, to approach the game unawares. Clay firing first, the whole herd rushed toward Lockwood’s side, closing up as it came, and, seeing him, made a charge. Dropping on one knee, he threw his cartridges down and blazed away with great rapidity. Many shots telling, the animals halted before him only a few rods off, and at once attempted a flank movement; but now Clay and Ryan closing up, the herd was check-mated. In five minutes from the first shot every animal of the herd—five grown and two calves—lay dead before the hunters. The hunters were sorry they had killed the calves, but in the excitement it could hardly have been otherwise. They then returned to the ship to report their success, and to have the carcasses brought in. This addition to their larder was the occasion of great joy, not only as giving a present supply of fresh meat, but in its promise for the future; not only as a luxury, but as the only certain means of warding off the scurvy, so much and so justly dreaded by Arctic explorers.

After supper of that day, Lockwood, ever ready for adventure, again started for Watercourse Bay, accompanied by Clay, Ralston, and the mate of the Proteus. Following the small stream, which came into the harbor at this point, for three miles, by an easy and regular ascent between lofty mountains on either side with a slope of about forty-five degrees, and over ground and patches of snow thrown up like potato-hills, they reached its head, and there, fortunately, found another stream running in the other direction. Following this, they were brought to Watercourse Creek, which runs into Watercourse Bay. Being uncertain whether the coal-mine, said to be on this creek, was above or below this point, they followed the creek up-stream three miles, when, not finding it, they retraced their steps to the point where they entered the creek, and, finding it impossible to follow the bed, climbed the bank. Here they saw two more musk-oxen, which they slew by strategy as before, and, opening the carcasses with penknives, left them to be carried in. Coming near the mouth of the creek, Lockwood saw indications of coal, and soon after reached the exposed seam of one hundred yards’ extent by twenty-five feet depth, distant about three fourths of a mile from the sea. This coal is said to equal the best of Welsh production. Near here, they saw another musk-ox, whose life they spared for the time, as they had so much meat in store. Lockwood found, and so reported, that, though Watercourse Bay had the merit of a near coalmine, and was nearer the grounds of future explorations, it was not possible to use it at once for the unloading ship without great risk and labor because of moving ice. Discovery Harbor, though full of ice from sixteen inches to ten feet thick, was perfectly landlocked and unobstructed. Ralston preceded the party home, killing one musk-ox en route. The Arctic summer was now at its height, lichen, moss, saxifrage, and various other little red, yellow, and blue flowers, bright red moss, and tufts of green grass at intervals, breaking the monotony of the somber rocks and earth. But the enjoyment of these beauties of nature could not then be indulged in, as all hands had to take part in unloading the ship, a labor which was soon accomplished.

The next business in order with the explorers was to build a house, and they selected a site facing the water, fifty feet from, and fifteen feet above it. While this work was progressing, the men lived in tents.

On the 19th of August, all hands were sent ashore, and the Proteus started on her return, but, passing too near Bellot Island for safety, was caught in the ice and delayed. Lockwood made an effort to follow in her wake with the steam-launch, but failed, because of the rapid closing in of the great masses of broken ice and the wedging of small ice-masses into the screw and well. The launch battled manfully with her foe, the ice. Frequently he ran her under a full head of steam against a massive floe, which would be shivered for a few inches, the recoil causing the launch to roll and pitch like a little giant. In young ice she would sometimes split a sheet for ten or fifteen yards at one impact.

Finding nothing to do while the house-building was progressing, Lieutenants Lockwood and Kislingbury occupied themselves with tramping after ptarmigans and other game over the mountains whose steep sides formed the eastern entrance of the harbor, and the northern boundary. Viewed from the house, their sides seemed gradual and their summits not over twenty minutes’ walk. In fact, however, the sides were successions of slopes separated by precipices, growing greater with the ascent. What below seemed the top was only one of many that must be passed before the real summit or divide could be attained. They reached the summit marked by the English cairn, and from there viewed the scene below. How small the ship appeared! and yet it seemed as though they could throw a stone upon her. They reached home with wolfish appetites, but with no game. The ptarmigans, which they chiefly sought, are provided, at this season, with a coat so nearly resembling the shade of the rocks and grounds as to be almost indistinguishable. By a happy provision of nature, in winter the feathers of this bird become white with only a little black about the tail.

The lieutenants then extended their excursions over the mountains on the north side of the harbor, availing themselves of a ravine, called the “Black Cañon,” which leads to a pretty waterfall. Climbing out of this cañon with difficulty over loose slate and other débris, they found themselves on the high backgrounds of the North Mountains. Thence moving west over loose rock and snow, and through pools of water, they finally came in sight of Musk-ox Bay, the western extremity of Discovery Harbor. They then retraced their steps, reaching home without having seen a living object bigger than an humble-bee.

On the 23d, the house was occupied, though not finished. Looking after their supplies, they found that the foxes had made free with the carcasses of the musk-oxen left near Watercourse Bay. Lockwood now proceeded to superintend the laying out of the observatory, digging for foundation pier of transit, etc. He found the ground frozen after reaching thirty inches, which may be taken as the depth where perpetual frost begins. The ship being still detained, but with a prospect of soon getting off, Lockwood wrote more letters home in which he expressed an opinion about the Proteus. Her chances of departing south were doubtful. Detention there for the winter would be embarrassing all around, as neither the ship nor her crew were prepared to stay, nor the explorers able to help them through the winter.

Just before her final departure, some difficulty arose between Lieutenants Greely and Kislingbury, which ended in the latter making a request to be relieved from duty with the expedition, which request was granted. One of the annoyances complained of was the rule that officers should rise in the morning with the men, and although Lockwood advised Kislingbury not to make any further trouble, he decided to pack up, board the Proteus, and return home. In this, however, he was not successful, as the steamer got away before he could reach her, and the order for his relief was somewhat modified. After explaining his action in this matter, Lieutenant Greely remarked that, if anything should happen to him, he desired that Lieutenant Lockwood should have command of the expedition. Lockwood expressed himself as very sorry for what his fellow-officer had done, and could not understand his course of action.

As soon as the building was entirely finished, on the 27th of August, the explorers found themselves very comfortable. The dull, cheerless weather and monotonous life were beginning to depress the spirits of Lockwood, but he felt that, when settled down to regular habits, he would not find the life in the north more irksome than that he had experienced on the Western plains of the United States. It may be mentioned that the final opening of the house, or government station, was commemorated by the issuing of an order from Lieutenant Greely, that the exploring expedition along the northern coast of Greenland, which had been marked out for Lieutenant Kislingbury as senior officer, was to be placed in command of Lieutenant Lockwood. He now felt that the opportunity for doing something creditable, for his own as well as his country’s reputation, was at hand, and his feelings of depression gave way to those of enthusiasm.

On Sunday, the 28th of August, all work was suspended, and some appropriate notice was taken of the day. Lieutenant Greely read a chapter in the Bible, having previously stated that any one would be excused from attending the service who had conscientious scruples. The supply of drinking-water having come up as an important question, demanded attention. The water was obtained from the ice-hummocks in the harbor. Pieces of suitable size were brought to the house on sledges and then melted in a large metallic box near the stove, through which and the stove ran a steam-pipe. Thus a liberal supply was kept up.

Wishing to establish a depot on the channel for future explorations, Lockwood left with Sergeants Brainard and Cross to explore St. Patrick’s Bay, lying northeast of the station and on the straits. The ground being covered with snow, the Government boots were soon soaked though, and the feet of the party became wet and cold. Following a ravine, they soon reached a lake near the summit of the hills in the rear, where they saw a musk-ox grazing on the bank. The animal fled on seeing them, but stopped farther on. Approaching him under cover, Lockwood got a standing shot and brought him down. Skinning him and dividing the carcass into quarters, they left the meat for others to carry in and went on their tramp, which took them midway between the “hog-back,” an elevated plateau on the north, and the rugged broken chain of mountains which lie between Discovery Harbor and Robeson Channel. About noon they reached St. Patrick’s Bay, but at a point so different from that laid down in their maps, that Lockwood felt some doubt as to its identity, to settle which, they proceeded to explore a wide river-bed, followed by a deep cañon, which led into the bay near its head. With this view, and to see the country to better advantage, they kept north along the steep rocky sides of the “hog-back,” over rocks, great and small, compact and loose, and generally covered with snow. After two hours of laborious travel, they found themselves high above the riverbed and in a position giving them a good view north and east. The main stream seemed to come from the north, with a branch from the west, the whole through lands of the most rugged description. Beyond the river to the east, the hills were more sloping, yet rising to an immense altitude between the river and the channel beyond. It seemed not difficult to descend into the bed of the river, walk up its frozen course, and, taking advantage of some break in the cliffs a few miles up, gain by a gradual ascent the high hills beyond, thus obtaining a view of Robeson Channel. The descent, over rocks, stones, and snow, involving great fatigue, took two hours. This brought them to a level terrace extending from cliffs to cliffs, through the center of which ran a deep cut or channel containing the insignificant stream, the sole occupant of this immense cañon. They gained the frozen stream with difficulty, cut through the ice and got a drink, and then regained the level terrace above, and began their steep climb up the mountain beyond, through a friendly ravine. One hour’s work brought them to an elevation which, at a distance, had seemed to be the main summit, only to find that farther on there were still higher points. Finally, at 6 P. M., they reached an elevation where the slope seemed to be eastward, and from which a magnificent view was obtained of the channel from Cape Lieber to Repulse Harbor, while directly east of them lay Newman’s Bay and Polaris Promontory. After erecting a cairn, they started back, cold and hungry, satisfied that they had seen the true St. Patrick’s Bay.

Regaining the river-valley, they had a most fatiguing climb to attain the pass through which they had come, and where they had killed the musk-ox. Just east of the lake, they encountered Dr. Pavy and Rice, and soon after Ralston and Lynn, going to Lincoln Bay via St. Patrick’s Bay. Our party reached home at midnight, with frost-bitten feet and empty stomachs, Lockwood finding his stockings full of ice and one toe badly frost-bitten.

He was laid up for a week with frosted feet, and had apprehension of losing some of his toes. Although suffering greatly, he was made especially unhappy by the thought of being disabled so early in the campaign. Discussing the subject of scurvy with Lieutenant Greely, they agreed in regarding the explorers much better provided against it, than was the British expedition, in that their dietary list was more complete. The English issued fresh beef but once a week; the Greely Expedition three times or oftener. This expedition had also the great advantage of a dry, warm, well-ventilated house.

Lockwood’s report as to St. Patrick’s Bay settling that as the place for their first depot, Sergeant Brainard with others proceeded to establish the same there by means of the whale-boat, moving around Cape Distant. Lockwood was much annoyed that his disability prevented his being one of those to carry out this important feature toward their future explorations. He took advantage of his non-active condition to figure out a design for an “ice-sledge,” which he thought would be an improvement on the Hudson Bay sledge they had in use. Lieutenant Greely approving the plan, he proceeded at once to build one by way of experiment. The duty assigned to Brainard was duly accomplished, and Depot A was established at St. Patrick’s Bay.

Having received a gentle reminder from Lieutenant Greely for oversleeping himself, Lockwood said he could not complain, the offense not being his first of the kind. The singular clearness of the atmosphere had enabled him to make satisfactory sketches of Cape Lieber and other prominent objects in the distance, and also of the house.

Among the events which made the early days of September somewhat lively were the following: Gardiner reported a waif, in the shape of a boat twelve feet long and an eight-men sledge, on the shore near Cape Murchison. Lieutenant Greely with others, and Lieutenant Kislingbury as a guest, went upon a two-days’ trip to the Bellows in search of game and to view the land. They were successful in securing ten musk-oxen, a dozen or more eider-ducks, and some other game. Sergeant Lynn, returning from Cape Beechy, reported a wagon and lamp on the shore, left by the English.

Dr. Pavy returned from Lincoln Bay, but Rice, taken on the return with severe inflammatory rheumatism, was left four miles north of St. Patrick’s Bay. A party was at once sent for his relief, which brought him in, in a bad way. Great difficulty was found in lifting him up the steep cliffs between the station and St. Patrick’s Bay.

Lockwood, having recovered from his injuries, went upon an expedition to the Bellows with Gardiner and the Esquimaux Frederick, using an eight-dog sledge and carrying rations for four days, consisting of roasted musk-ox, baked beans, butter and sauce, hard bread, and chocolate. They visited Bleak Cape, the entrance of the Bellows. The Bellows they found to be a long, level valley, walled in by lofty hills and cliffs, in some places two or three thousand feet high. It bears the impress of having been, at some far-distant period, the channel of a glacier, its level surface being thickly strewn with stones, while there are masses attached like shelves to the sides of the cliffs and slopes. For twenty miles, the valley preserves a width of nearly three miles; beyond this, it narrows and changes direction toward the west. A small creek runs through its entire length, which generally they followed. The route was difficult, owing to the large number of stones imperfectly covered with snow, and hence all riding ceased after they entered the valley; for the dogs could scarcely pull the sledge and its load, and often required aid. Here they met a piece of drift-wood, indicating that the tide once flowed up the valley, for no tree or wood had ever been seen away from tide-water. One of the dogs becoming sick was turned adrift, trusting to her following the party or returning home. Reaching “Devil’s Head,” they went into camp by turning up the sledge and hanging rubber blankets around to shield them from the cold wind, and then ate a supper of warmed-up beans and hot chocolate, and tumbled into the sleeping-bags, all of which they found most enjoyable.

After a breakfast of chocolate, hard bread, and some frozen cheese, they were delighted to see the sick dog rejoin them. The sledge-runners were rapidly wearing out, and they concluded to walk to the end of the valley, leaving the Esquimaux with the sledge and team while they pushed on as best they could.

Lockwood and Gardiner reached the head of the valley at four, and, proceeding up the incline to the west where it narrowed to a ravine, went on till they came to a narrow gorge—its terminus. Having seen all there was to see, and Gardiner complaining of a game leg, they retraced their steps, reached the sledge at 10 P. M., and at once, supperless, turned into their sleeping-bags. Near the terminus of the valley they met two musk-oxen, but, having only their knives with them, did not venture on an assault, though the animals stood still and quietly gazed at the intruders.

Returning, they followed the creek, finding some advantage from the ice which had formed during the night. Lockwood saw and took back with him a few pieces of wood-coal, or very soft coal, evidently of recent formation, which had doubtless washed down, but whence he knew not. Reaching Bleak Cape, they decided to make a détour west to a cañon near the “Knife-edge,” where the musk-oxen were killed by Lieutenant Greely and party a few days before; but no musk-ox, dead or alive, was to be seen. Gardiner being still lame, Lockwood abandoned some other objects he had in view in making this trip, and, striking out directly across the bay and riding on the sledge, they reached the station without incident.

Dr. Pavy made an unsuccessful attempt to reach an estuary at the head of Lady Franklin Bay, from which Lieutenant Greely thought a passage might be forced westward to a supposed fiord or sea connected with the waters leading through Behring Strait into the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, finding Lady Franklin Bay open beyond Stony Point, the doctor returned without settling this interesting question, which, as will be seen, Lieutenant Lockwood afterward solved.

Sixteen, or more, large Arctic wolves were seen in one day on the ice, a few hundred yards from the house. These were the first seen by them; the English saw none here, nor do Kane, Hayes, or Hall mention them. These wolves are large, strong, fierce-looking beasts, perfectly white in color, and anything but desirable customers to meet.

Lieutenant Greely, and Sergeants Brainard, Bender, and Connell, left on an exploration above and beyond “North Valley,” a deep cañon cutting through the “hog’s back” north of the station. They left without sledges, carrying six days’ rations, sleeping-bags, etc. Following the “North Valley” upward, and leaving it near its head, they soon found themselves in a water-course running toward St. Patrick’s Bay. Turning westward, and going some distance, they came in sight of what they regarded as the United States Range; but, a heavy snow-storm coming on, they cut short the trip after traveling twenty-five miles, and returned. It was deemed unfortunate that the untoward weather prevented their getting a good view from that range. The absence of glaciers and large water-courses, the low altitude of the range, and many other features in that region, all seemed to indicate a large sea not far to the westward.

The building of Lockwood’s sledge turned out a failure, for the want of proper appliances.

On the 17th of September, the party celebrated Whistler’s birthday by a dinner of his own selection—oyster soup, roast musk-ox, potatoes, corn, pear-butter, cake, etc., and a glass of grog in the evening. Two-story bunks were built for the men, giving more room. The Signal-Service men—the observers—had a little corner partitioned off, where they were to sleep and work. Another corner was fitted as a wash-room, where warm water might be had, and where there was a bath-tub, which all were expected to use every week. Other arrangements had been provided productive of comfort and health. Lockwood’s time was now chiefly occupied in drawing maps, making finished drawings from sketches, reading, and sledge-work.

Dr. Pavy, with a party, went to take provisions to the depots, but failed to get round Cape Murchison. Not satisfying Lieutenant Greely, the latter himself undertook the task, and, after considerable difficulty, in which the sledge broke down, succeeded. On the 21st the sun presented a remarkable appearance, having rainbows to the right and left, which nearly joined above; also radiating vertical and horizontal beams of light.

Lieutenant Kislingbury, after many futile efforts with arsenic, succeeded in poisoning many wolves with strychnine. Five of them bit the dust at one time, and by this means the party was able to get rid of these dangerous neighbors. This animal, as stated, is perfectly white, and is not unlike the Esquimaux dog, but larger and more formidable.

On the 24th of September, Lockwood started on a trip to Cape Beechy with Ellis, Fredericks, Ralston, Biederbick, and one large sledge, to provision Depot “A,” distant twenty miles. They started with two hundred and fifty pounds on the sledge, intending to take on other food left near Cape Distant. Their passage around this cape was accomplished only after cutting away masses of ice. Beyond this, and with their load increased to three hundred and fifty pounds, they struck masses of rocks over which the sledge and load had to be lifted. There they left the photograph apparatus for Rice, and took lunch. Afterward they passed Watercourse Bay, and the English wagon lying on the shore, and halted for the night at 6 P. M. at Cape Murchison, without any remonstrance on the part of the tired-out men, notwithstanding some of them, about noon, had proposed going on to Cape Beechy without a stop. Indeed, Lockwood observed anxious faces among them when he hesitated about stopping. Floe-bergs of every form and shape—square, oblong, round, and pyramidal—from ten to forty feet high, were scattered along the shore. Without the barrier afforded by these, the floating floe, moving with the noise of railroad-trains, would cut away the foot-ice and render travel impossible. Using the tent at Depot “A,” and the bedding, etc., there, they got supper over the spirit-lamp and crawled into their sleeping-bags. The cold, cramped position, and dropping of congealed moisture from the tent, robbed them of sleep; hence they rose at 5.20, little refreshed. Beautiful “sun-dogs” were noticed with the rising of the sun across the strait. Toward noon similar appearances, peculiar to the Arctic sun, were still more remarkable—rainbows on either side, and joined above the sun, while vertical and horizontal beams of white light pierced the sun. They passed St. Patrick’s Bay, and, after a hard and cold day’s work, reached Depot “B,” south of Mount Bufort and a little farther south of Cape Beechy, at 3 P. M., the 25th. On the following day, dragging an empty sledge, they returned to the cache at St. Patrick’s Bay, loaded up with three hundred and fifty pounds, and returned to Depot “B,” tired, cold, and wet with perspiration, this last being, perhaps, the greatest obstacle to Arctic travel. The great exertion soon induces perspiration, which being checked when labor ceases, you are at once sensible of cold water and ice at the same time. It was rare to have anything entirely dry after the first day of work. The sole resource was to use the heat of the body in the sleeping-bags at night. Mittens and socks were the most important to keep dry, and the most difficult. Their lamps being imperfect, they found a difficulty in preparing their chocolate. The alcohol took fire below and filled the tent with fumes quite as unpleasant as the cold. Having left their tin plates behind, they had to eat from one dish. Eating was simply cramming, that their benumbed fingers might give up the cold spoons and return to the warm pockets. Yet with all these discomforts they ate heartily, and with appetites unknown elsewhere than in the Arctic regions; and, notwithstanding dirt, cold, and alcoholic fumes, they had their jokes and songs while lying in their sleeping-bags, trying to keep warm and get to sleep. But their ills did not end there, for whenever the canvas was shaken, frost-like snow—condensed vapor—fell upon them, which melted with the lighting of the lamp in the morning. Truly, this was a rough road to glory and fame!

Two of the men, in consequence of the crowded tent, had to sleep outside with the thermometer at -15°, and left without breakfast, to return to the station. The party soon followed them, and, after stopping at St. Patrick’s Bay to take on a log of driftwood observed there, which gave them an additional pull of five miles, reached the station long after dark. Having taken something to eat and drink, they got into their warm and dry beds, which never felt more comfortable.

The next man to command a party was Dr. Pavy, who had in view a long-projected trip to Cape Joseph Henry, with the object of carrying out the wishes of the Navy Department, that a search should be made there for the Jeannette, and a signal placed indicating that help was near at hand; another object was to establish a depot for spring operations. His force consisted of the Esquimaux Jans, Whistler, and two dog-teams. His “constant weight” was two hundred pounds, and he took rations for twenty days. He counted upon other rations at Lincoln Bay left by the English, and those nearer home left by Greely’s men at Depot “B,” near Cape Beechy. He hoped with these to establish a depot near the place where the Alert had her winter quarters, and thus be ready in the spring to surpass Markham. Lockwood was inclined to think the doctor a little too anxious to retain personal comfort while exploring, to accomplish much. He had been convinced that sledge-journeys of any considerable extent in those high latitudes could be made only by the sacrifice of every personal comfort.

On the 2d of October, there was a remarkable and beautiful sunset. The lower part of the picture was formed by the clear white ice of the harbor westward. Then came the distant mountains, whose snow-capped summits reached into a sky of beautiful green; above, a line of gold, and then blue and gold alternating, and finally the deep-blue vault studded with masses of red—on the whole a most gorgeous spectacle.

Finding this inactive life monotonous, Lockwood started on an exploration of the streams which enter St. Patrick’s Bay from the north. Lynn, Bender, Saler, Henry, and himself constituted the party, and they proposed going by way of the gap through the mountains rather than around Distant Cape. They had not gone far before they regretted having taken this short cut, for they found the way exceedingly laborious from want of snow—so much so, that they were six hours in reaching the steep, rocky bluffs which overlook St. Patrick’s Bay and the valley at the north of it, and they were two more before reaching the level of the bay. Indeed, this was only attained by carrying their load piece by piece down the cliffs and letting the sledge down by ropes. Here they put up their tent and went into camp. Unfortunately, they had neglected to bring candles, and hence had to eat their meal in darkness. Lockwood and Saler occupied one sleeping-bag, while the others were in another. They passed the night cold and sleepless. There being a birthday dinner at the station, they had intended to walk back to it, a distance of seven miles, but, on account of the condition of the way, abandoned the idea.

Getting off at an early hour after a cold breakfast, and reaching the bed of the water-course, they made their way over its stony bed, so lightly covered with snow as to rapidly grind away the sledge-runners, up the cañon, as grand as the stream was insignificant. Finding their progress so much impeded, they left the sledge behind and made their way without it. The cold being intense, to keep up circulation they walked rapidly, but suffered greatly in their feet and hands. Having volunteered for this expedition, they were ashamed to give it up, though often disposed to do so. Thus, for three tiresome hours, they kept on their way, either following the bed of the stream, or along the mesa-like formations, which projected like shelves from the mountain-sides. Finally, the valley and mesas alike disappearing, the stream entered a narrow gorge. Gaining an eminence, the further course of the stream was indicated to them, and its probable terminus in table-lands of great elevation seen in the distance. Returning by the bed of the stream until the valley had attained a width of half a mile, they entered from the west a very picturesque cañon thirty feet wide with walls one hundred feet high. Its walls were worn smooth, as though by the action of ice, and there were small, basin-shaped holes apparently made by bowlders caught by glaciers. They also met with blocks of quartz much larger than could possibly be moved by the force of any body of water now passing through the cañon. Notwithstanding their exhausted condition, and the worn state of their foot-gear from the numerous stones and rough ice they had passed over, they concluded not to spend the night where they had left the sledge, but to go on to Depot “A,” near Cape Murchison. Adding their outfit to that of the depot, they had a night of less discomfort than usual. On passing Cape Distant, they noticed a broad channel of open water in the strait, preventing any passage at that time.

On reaching the station, they found that the temperature had been -16°, and it was probably 4° lower where they had been. Lieutenant Greely was putting in order a variety of reading-matter for the men. Sergeant Brainard was absent at the Bellows, with Rice and Bender, after musk-ox meat. They returned later, badly frosted, but brought the meat to within easy sledging distance.

The 7th of October, being Mrs. Greely’s birthday, was celebrated with a dinner made regal by the following-named dishes: gumbo-soup, biscuits, old sherry, Columbia River salmon with sauce sauterne, boiled ham, asparagus, sago, corn, lima-beans, cold bread, chocolate cake, strawberry and pineapple ice-cream, dates, figs, grapes, prunes, candied fruits, coffee, and Benedictine.

In Payer’s “History of the Austrian Expedition to Franz-Josef Land,” Lockwood found much of interest in connection with the requirements for a sledge-journey—details of clothing and other matters best suited to fit one to stand the cold. The book he considered of great value to any novice in Arctic sledging. He supposed that they themselves were much better off than any expedition that had wintered within the Arctic Circle. The most serious difficulties—dampness, want of ventilation, and darkness—were reduced with them to a minimum, while of fresh meat, anti-scorbutics, and fuel they had an abundance; and if their assortment of clothing—particularly foot-gear—had been better, they would have had nothing to desire.

Besides the large stock of coal left by the Proteus, they had the coal-mine within ten miles. The men seemed comfortable and contented. They had a bathroom and bath-tub, with hot and cold water ready at hand, and books and periodicals in abundance. Their heating arrangements were generally perfect and quite effectual. The light from the sun amounted to little, and artificial light within-doors was required all day; but with a full moon, bright sky, and everything covered with snow, they had a flood of light almost an equivalent. They had musk-ox meat almost every day, and a large store on hand. They also had a large supply of the best pork, lime-juice, cider, sour-krout, pickles, onions and cucumbers mixed, and other anti-scorbutics. The men were comfortable, seemed happy and cheerful, and found many sources of amusement—among others, from an anti-swearing society. Delinquents were fined five cents each, the proceeds to pay for a grand dinner on returning to the United States. Several members incurred such enormous fines as to become bankrupt, and were expelled. These outcasts lay around and beguiled the unwary, thus affording amusement to all except the victim. Rice and Israel had a way of carrying on ridiculous discussions. One evening they had an apparently angry dialogue, in which Rice personated a tipsy lodger complaining of the fare and demanding his bill, and Israel, an insulted landlord. Both seemed entirely in earnest, and kept their countenances amid roars of laughter and gibes from the men.

IX.
PRELIMINARY SLEDGE EXPEDITIONS AND LIFE AT THE STATION.

Among the amusements which helped to kill time at the station of Discovery Harbor, officially called Fort Conger, was that of celebrating certain birthdays, and this chapter begins with what was done when Lieutenant Lockwood attained his twenty-ninth year. He confessed that he did not wish a “happy return of the day” in the Arctic regions, and yet he would be contented if they should all be as pleasant as the one just experienced, in spite of the cold winds, ice, snow, darkness, and anticipations of exposure and fatigue when his spring travels should begin. He spent most of the day in sewing canvas leggings to his moccasins and altering his trousers, while Lieutenant Greely entertained him with recollections of his army experience during the rebellion, fighting his battles over again. His birthday dinner was something quite formidable, consisting of:

Pea soup à la Proteus,

Scalloped oysters à la Eastern Shore,

Deviled crabs à la Chesapeake,

Musk-ox à la Franklin Bay,

Potatoes à l’Irlandaise,

Macaroni à l’Italienne,

Rice and curry à la Pacific Mail,

Blanc-mange, fruits, nuts, cake, ice-cream, and black coffee.

Lieutenant Greely kindly added, from private stores, some very good California port wine. Lockwood’s reflections, however, carried him to his distant home, and he longed to know that all there were well—that his dear parents and sisters were happy as when he was with them! Perhaps, even at that hour, their thoughts and words were of him. On this day, as frequently on his sledging journeys, he pictured to himself the family circle in the far-off home. The cold, fatigue, and monotony attending him and his companions were rendered endurable by thus breaking away from the present.

On the morning of the 10th of October, Lockwood started on a trip with Jewell across Lady Franklin Bay for Cape Baird. Had no difficulty for a mile or two beyond Dutch Island, but mist and fog then obscuring their way and blotting out the landscape, they kept on their course by compass. Soon they encountered heavy snow-drifts and many floe-bergs and fields of rubble-ice, all unfavorable for sledging. Fortunately, they had only themselves to transport. Though the weather was cold, they soon found themselves oppressively warm from the labor attending the journey. Profiting by past experience, Lockwood had this time come out warmly dressed—viz., with two flannel shirts, a woolen jersey, an under-shirt of light buckskin, heavy woolen drawers, a seal-skin over-all, and two pairs of socks under light buckskin moccasins. He then became convinced, that it was quite as great a mistake to wear too much as too little clothing. Even when they could ride on the sledge, which was not often, there were numerous bad places where they had to run with the dogs and lift the sledge over obstacles. Trying to avoid the moving ice, they struck too far westward, so that when they approached land they found themselves some two miles within the cape for which they had started. Stopping only to take a bite of crackers and meat, they started to retrace their steps, but not before daylight had left them, and they had only the moon to show them the way. After some time they thought to reduce the distance by taking what they supposed was a short cut, but soon found themselves scrambling over hummocky ice of the most formidable character. They regained their track, but not till overcome by thirst and fatigue. Resting at short intervals, they finally came in sight of Dutch Island, and soon afterward were gladdened by the sound of distant shouts. Dr. Pavy and Sergeants Brainard and Connell had come out to meet them, and not empty-handed, for they bore a bag of hot coffee, and never did coffee taste more delicious. Though the mercury was nearly nine degrees below zero, when they reached the house everything they had on was as wet as if they had fallen overboard.

The result of that reconnaissance was that they decided to establish a “depot” near Cape Baird, which labor was duly carried out by Lockwood, Ellis, Saler, and Bender. The weather being open, they started directly for Cape Baird, but, finding that route impracticable, inclined westward and got into their old track. After much delay and great labor, they reached a point on the farther side, where they found it necessary to encamp for the night. The tent was pitched, chocolate boiled, and beans thawed out, after which they crawled into their sleeping-bags, trying to forget, if possible, that the thermometer stood at -24° without. Resuming their journey, but now with the discomfort of wind added to intense cold, they made their way ashore, established the depot of provisions, and with lightened sledges and hearts retraced their steps. Noses were frozen during the day, and only restored by friction, which made them raw and uncomfortable. Very soon after starting back, twilight disappeared, and they had only the moon to light them on their way. Passing the resting-place of the previous night, they concluded to make the journey to the house without stopping. They stumbled on in the dark, a used-up party, Lockwood having a sprained tendon Achilles, and also a lame back. The air becoming calm, they were enabled to stop sometimes and rest, which they could not have safely done in their perspiring condition had the wind been blowing. When near Dutch Island, Dr. Pavy and Lieutenant Kislingbury met them with hot coffee, which so much refreshed them that the rest of the journey seemed easy, although it was probable that Lockwood’s raw red nose, frosted toes, lame back, and tender heel, would be reminders of this trip for a long time.

On the 16th of October the sun disappeared, to rise no more until February. With the mercury ranging from -28° to -40°, Lockwood amused himself by scraping off the accumulated condensation of moisture from the room on the window-panes near his corner, the ice being one inch thick.

About this time Lockwood took up a course of Arctic literature, with which they were liberally supplied. This was chiefly in view of his sledge-journey in the coming spring. Feeling the need of exercise, he left the station on the 23d for Depot “B,” Cape Beechy, with Brainard, Connell, and the Esquimaux Frederick, and a sledge with eight dogs. At Depot “A” they took on a small stove and a bag of coal from the mines, and thereby the tent at Depot “B” became more comfortable than anything they had experienced away from the station; notwithstanding, they had a comfortless night, as the crowded condition of the tent compelled some of them to lie so near the stove as to endanger their safety. Lockwood woke up to find a large hole burned in his blanket. Afterward, the fire going out, they suffered more than when they had had no fire at all. They erected a snow-house for a depot here, forming the sides of tough blocks of compact snow, and covering it with the boat-sail supported by oars, and, by imitating the natives in some particulars, had a house impervious to cold.

While there, Lockwood, with Brainard, ascended Mount Bufort, near at hand, and had an uninterrupted view of the straits as far down as Cape Lieber, and of the opposite coast, between which and them hung water-clouds, indicating open water. This fact was also indicated by the roar, like a moving railroad-train, made by the crushing of the ice in the current. Having passed another night in their warm snow-house, they made their way next day to the station in less than five hours, and found all hands there engaged in erecting an ice wall around the house as high as the eaves, and filling in with snow. This proved most effectual in keeping the house warm.

Lieutenant Greely had an uncomfortable experience while assisting to make a tide-gauge. He fell in and got a ducking—not his first experience in that direction. Wolves were daily seen near the house, and were so bold and fearless that the men deemed it prudent never to leave the building without fire-arms; for, as the animals were of the same color as the snow, they could not be easily distinguished.

On the 29th, a singular aurora made its appearance, consisting of a ribbon of white light a degree wide, stretching through the zenith from north to south; then another arch, 10° westward, whose base touched the first; and still another, also passing through the zenith, and cutting the others at right angles.

On the 30th, Lockwood commenced preparations for a preliminary journey to Hall’s winter quarters, whenever the straits could be crossed and the weather and light were suitable. Among other things, the saddler, Fredericks, made a tent to hold eight men, using to that end two common “A” tents.

About this time, while cogitating on his room and room-mates, Lockwood said: “Surely this is a happy quartet occupying this room! We often sit silent during the whole day, and even a meal fails to elicit anything more than a chance remark or two. A charming prospect for four months of darkness, such gloom within, and penned up as we are in one room! I have doubts of getting over the straits, but I must be off as soon as possible, for I find a relief in getting away.”

Lieutenant Greely had felt himself compelled to show his dissatisfaction with Dr. Pavy’s explorations, or rather attempted explorations. He and the doctor had also adverse views as to how explorations should be made. The doctor wanted to take along many creature comforts, while Greely thought, with Lockwood, that nothing could be accomplished without sacrificing all beyond bare necessities.

Having everything complete, Lockwood started on the 1st of November to try the passage of the straits, with Brainard, Lynn, Saler, Biederbick, Ellis, Fredericks, and Connell, dragging an eight-man sledge, weighing, with load, one thousand pounds. They left sledge and load beyond Cape Distant, and returned to lodge at the house, where all hands fortified themselves with a first-class dinner, preparatory to the labors of the next day.

They got off early, but, owing to the limited light and other difficulties, found themselves some distance from the snow-house near Cape Beechy when darkness overtook them. Having all in readiness on the 4th, they again got off, leaving Ellis at the snow-house with an injured foot. This was unfortunate, as he was a strong, willing fellow, with lots of pluck. The prospects of crossing the straits at this time were not encouraging, both from the short duration of light and from the open waters. Still, they determined to make the effort. This they first did with the whale-boat, which they had picked up on their route. They mounted it on the sledge, but soon found they could not drag so heavy a body, and returned to the snow-house. Rice, whom they found there, was then sent with a dog-sledge to bring up a small boat from Cape Murchison. Dr. Pavy, Lieutenant Kislingbury, and Jans coming along en route for another attempt northward, were surprised to see how comfortable they were in the snow-house.

After extensive repairs to the small boat, they again got off at noon, seven men and Lockwood himself dragging the sledge, on which were the boat and one hundred and fourteen pounds of rations. On reaching open water, three only were to proceed in the boat, the others to fall back on the snow-house. They got along pretty well until they came to the hummocks, through which, with extreme labor, and frequently using an axe, they made their way, till they heard, in the distance toward Polaris Promontory, the roar of the grinding ice, indicating open water. Moving on ahead of the party over very rough ice, and crossing some wet, slushy ice fifteen or twenty yards wide, Lockwood found himself on a level floe. He had gone only a short distance over this toward a dark streak beyond, which he took for open water, when he found that the floe upon which he stood was in motion. Retreating over the bed of slushy ice, he found this to be really only a thick mass of broken pieces intermediate between the moving floe and the firm ice. He could readily thrust his ice-hook down through it to the water beneath, and did so. Reaching the sledge-party, and viewing the difficulties of the situation, he decided, all agreeing, on the impracticability of crossing at this season. They accordingly displayed signal-torches from the top of an iceberg, as agreed upon, that Lieutenant Greely might know that they had found the crossing dangerous and had abandoned the effort. They returned in darkness, and with considerable difficulty, guided somewhat by a signal-torch displayed by Ellis at the snow-house. They remained all day at the snow-house, which the men found so comfortable that they preferred it to the restraints of the station. At noon Lockwood and Brainard went upon a tramp, and found the condition of the open water to be such as to demonstrate the wisdom of their return the evening before. The men made some additions to the snow-house, which were regarded as a great success. The return to the station on the 7th was attended with more difficulty and labor than had been expected, arising from a strong south wind having worn away the foot-ice, and the small amount of light; hence, they soon had wet feet, which in that region always means frost-bitten feet. So much were some of the men used up by this journey of twenty miles, which had before been made in one day, that they had to be conveyed on the sledge, and did not reach the station till the third day. At Dutch Island they met Whistler, who, missing Biederbick at the ropes and seeing a human form on the sledge, came to the conclusion that Biederbick was dead, and repeatedly exclaimed, “Poor Biederbick! poor Biederbick!”

During a period of dullness at the station, Rice and Henry projected a newspaper, to be called the “Arctic Moon,” and Lockwood, to whom, also, the idea had occurred, agreed to join them as one of the editors. They wanted something to dispel the monotony which was depressing all hands, as all were tired of reading, of cards and other games, while two of Lockwood’s room-mates were gloomy and taciturn. To counteract this, he resumed his reading, especially history and travels—anything but novels. Kane’s work interested him especially, and he considered him a remarkable man, courageous, energetic, and determined. Their own manner of life just then reminded Lockwood of a rainy day in the country intensified. “Yet,” says he, “why not be contented? Books and leisure afford an opportunity for reading and studying which we may never have again. We have a warm, comfortable house, plenty of food, and other things which many are without. Life in this world is just what one chooses to make it. Man can make of it a heaven or a hell.” He felt anxious as to the effect of one hundred and thirty sunless days upon himself and men, as this might tell on their sledging in the coming spring. Nares’s people broke down under it, and, when sledging, were decimated by the scurvy. They themselves were fortunate so far in not having had a single man sick enough to keep his bed.

True to his intellectual instincts, Lockwood formed a class in geography and grammar, consisting of Ellison, Bender, Connell, and Whistler, while Lieutenant Greely taught them arithmetic. On the 22d of November appeared, with a flourish of trumpets, the first number of the “Arctic Moon.” Of course the editors thought it a great success. It had for the frontispiece a sketch of the house, drawn by Lockwood, while Rice made fair copies of the paper by the hectograph process—enough for all, and many to spare.

These trifles served to shorten, apparently, the many hours of gloom and darkness, which were wearing away the spirits of all. The men were now far less hilarious than they had been, and, with the game of chess to assist, silence reigned supreme.

Thanksgiving-day, with its games, sports, and dinner, gave them a pleasant variety. First, came the snow-shoe race of one hundred yards, Brainard, victor. Next, the foot-race, with many contestants, but Ellis coming out ahead. Then the dog-team race to Dutch Island and return, under the Esquimaux Jans and Frederick, the latter, victor. And, finally, a shooting-match, necessarily at short range, and with torches, Henry, victor. These and other out-door exercises were followed by the grand feature of the day, the Thanksgiving dinner, and not a poor one either, even for a lower latitude than eighty-two degrees. In the evening Lieutenant Greely gave out prizes to the victors and second best, Rice acting as master of ceremonies, rigged out in swallow-tail coat, black pantaloons, white vest, and “boiled” shirt. The mercury froze on that day, and Lieutenant Greely brought in a teacupful, which looked like lead as it comes from the mold. The moon also made its appearance, and all fully appreciated the blessing of this luminary.

“What a change,” exclaimed Lockwood, “when she comes forth in all her beauty and loveliness, flooding the landscape with her refulgent beams and cheering the drooping spirits of benighted mortals! Even the poor dogs feel her influence!” On the 1st of December, they had an almost total eclipse of the moon, more remarkable there than an eclipse of the sun elsewhere. During the phenomenon, the exposed part of the disk was of a dull-red color. Lockwood took the altitude of the moon while crossing the meridian, using a saucer of molasses as an artificial horizon. She flooded the whole region with a light, electric in appearance, and causing deep shadows. In the evening they were treated to a display of mock moons, with a circular band of bright light connecting them, and several bands or ribbons of light at various angles, but all passing through the moon.

The Esquimaux, Jans and Frederick, having of late been much depressed, efforts were made by kindly attentions on the part of Lieutenant Greely and others to dispel their gloom and assure them of the friendly feeling entertained toward them by all. These good offices, however, all failed. Dr. Pavy said this state of mind was not infrequent among the natives of lower Greenland, and often resulted in the wandering off of the subjects of it, and, if not followed, by their perishing in the cold. One morning Jans was missing, and at once his tracks were followed by Dr. Pavy, Brainard, Rice, and Whistler, with the dog-sledge. Late in the afternoon they returned with poor Jans, who was found nine miles away, following at a rapid pace the ice-foot around Cape Murchison. He returned unwillingly, and gave no reason for his strange conduct. Rice and Whistler were both rendered hors de combat by the journey, the former by a fall from an ice-hummock, the latter by congestion of the brain owing to having shaved before going out. Both Dr. Kane and Dr. Rink (in his book on Greenland) refer to hallucinations similar to that of Jans, and the frequent fatal consequences.

On the 14th of December appeared the second number of the “Arctic Moon,” which was thought to be an improvement on number one, and was well received. Lieutenant Greely gave a lecture on the “Polar Question.”

On the same day also, Esquimaux Frederick came to Lieutenant Greely and asked permission to leave the station, and, when asked why, said some one was going to shoot him—a strange hallucination!

On the 20th Lockwood writes: “The sun now begins his journey to the north; the backbone of the winter is broken! Walking out at noon to-day, I was just able to see the hands of my watch by holding it close to my eye. The profound silence of this region is quite as striking, and almost as disagreeable, as the darkness. Standing still, one can almost hear his heart beat. The sense of solitude is sublime.” Speaking of Arctic literature, he says that “Hayes’ book, though beautifully written, is far below that of Kane as to information and reliability. No one who has been up Smith’s Sound can fail to notice this.”

On the 24th of December, after eating a birthday dinner, the Christmas presents from an unknown friend to every one of the party, were distributed. The rooms were appropriately decorated, and everything was done to render the occasion cheerful and pleasant. Those articles not specifically assigned by the donor were disposed of by lottery.

Lockwood indulged in the following reflections: “How suggestive of home and of the dear ones there! How often do my thoughts wander away to them! Has Providence been equally kind to them as to me? The day with me suggests alternately the past and the future. Will next Christmas find me here, with everything around as auspicious as now, and shall I then be able to look back with satisfaction and self-complacency on my labors along the Greenland coast? Or will the future bring a record of dreams unsatisfied, of efforts unproductive, of labor in vain? My mind is far away with that group at home assembled together and doubtless regretting that the absent one is not of their number. Could I but see them for an hour, or know that all is well with them, I should rejoice, indeed!”

The “Lime-Juice Club” gave an entertainment on the same evening, at which Snyder affected Jans to tears by his personation of an Esquimaux lady, and Connell brought down the house as a martinet captain, by exclaiming, when a soldier who had shot himself was brought in: “Very sad affair, very sad, indeed! Charge him with two cartridges expended, Sergeant.”

Lieutenant Greely also gave the party as a lecture, “Reminiscences of the Battle of Fredericksburg,” which was interesting and two hours long, though entirely ex tempore; and Lockwood was announced to lecture on “Arctic Sledging.”

On the 31st, rations of rum were issued to help the men welcome in the new year. They were also to fire a salute with rifles. Fiddles were in full blast, with singing and other marks of hilarity.

Lockwood’s lecture on “Arctic Sledging” was given January 3, 1882, and was well received. Being confirmed in his opinion that he was no public speaker, he intended to leave lecturing for others thereafter. On the 9th he took his usual walk, notwithstanding the thermometer was at 60° below zero, and felt the cold chiefly on his nose. It seemed curious to him, that when the thermometer was lowest, the air was stillest. Were it otherwise, he supposed existence in the Arctic would be an impossibility.

But severe as was the weather, it did not deter him from the study of science, as will be seen by the following record, made on the 9th of January: “I have been looking up the subject of nautical astronomy for some time past, and to-day and this evening, taking sextant, mercury, etc., and establishing an observatory on top of an old barrel in front of the house, commenced observations on the transit of Markab, Capella, and other stars, but have not been very successful. Everything conspires against one in this climate. It reminds me of my observations last spring. However, I hope by dint of practice to do better. The winter is passing away slowly but surely. The time is coming when I shall look at these stars from grassy fields, on a summer night, in the temperate zone, I hope. The stars up here are very bright, and a great many of them circle around the pole and never set. It is a beautiful sight. Arcturus, Aldebaran, and others, besides being very bright, show different colors, red, violet, and green. Jupiter looks immense.”

Still absorbed with his astronomical studies, he gives us the following on the 13th of the same month: “The moon appeared after noon. How welcome she is! How a poet would rave over the moon could he once experience a polar winter!—not simply an Arctic winter, for anywhere north of the Arctic Circle is the Arctic, and the dark days which most expeditions have seen are trifling compared with ours. I think it would be a good idea to exile a first-class poet into these regions for the purpose, but give him to understand he was never to return. How he would sing!”

On the 12th, they had a phenomenon they had never heard of—the precipitation of vapor with a perfectly clear sky. It resembled a heavy mist or light rain.

On the 16th occurred the first hurricane of the season. It began in the morning with heavy south wind and sudden fall of barometer. At noon the wind whipped round to the northeast and blew with indescribable fury, filling the air with snow-drifts, and blotting out the view of everything even a few feet distant. The anemometer registered sixty-five miles, and then broke down. The noise of the storm, as heard from the house, was as though on shipboard. It must have given way but for the ice walls around it.

On the 20th, Lieutenant Greely issued a circular letter, calling attention to the order that all should be up for breakfast. Kislingbury and Dr. Pavy took exceptions to this, and the latter declined to lecture in his turn.

The next evening occurred a beautiful and unique auroral display, the chief features of which were many broad bands of pure white passing through the zenith and reaching to the east and to the west horizon, which blended, twisted, and curled in upon each other in a very remarkable manner. The spectacle was viewed with wonder and amazement.

On the 26th, the twilight at noonday was quite bright. The moon also lent her aid; but low spirits and a sense of oppression and homesickness prevailed, all induced, doubtless, by want of exercise, and loneliness.

“Another twenty-four hours,” wrote Lockwood, on the 6th of February, “of this interminable night nearly gone! Thank God! Sometimes it seems as if this life must hold on forever, but tempus fugit up here as well as elsewhere. The days and weeks seem weeks and months in passing, and yet, in the retrospect, time seems to have passed quickly, because there is so little in the past to mark its progress, I suppose.”

Lockwood could not realize the extreme cold, and seldom wore his gloves when going out for a few minutes. Though he put on a thick dog-skin coat and seal-skin over-all when taking his daily walk, he really did not regard so much clothing necessary. Exposure to such low temperatures, however, for several hours, and particularly at night, was to be dreaded. Many authorities—among others Lieutenant Greely—spoke of a peculiar sensation in the throat on first encountering a very low temperature, as when going out of doors from a warm room, but such was not Lockwood’s experience. Provided it was calm, he could stand any degree of cold he had yet met with. Owing to the peculiar and admirable construction of their house, the men were able to keep up 50° of heat within, however cold without.

On the 13th of February, Lockwood with two men went to see what damage had resulted from the late storm to the observatory on the summit of Bellot Island. Contrary to their expectations, they found the snow not only deep, but with a crust just firm enough not to bear. Consequently, they sent the dog-sledge back, and proceeded on foot, frequently sinking down knee-deep. Though the thermometer stood at -65°, they got into a profuse perspiration, which was not lessened by the steep and slippery ascent of two thousand feet. From this point the station-house seemed only a black spot, and was hardly recognizable as a house. Having made their inspection and fired their rifles several times as agreed upon with Lieutenant Greely, who was experimenting on sound, they returned. The result of these experiments was, that at -65° sound travels nine hundred and fifty feet per second. This was the coldest day they had yet experienced, and still they did not suffer with the cold.

The return to a warm house was an indescribable comfort, and Lockwood thought that if this could always be done, Arctic journeying would then be nothing. It was unprecedentedly cold even for that latitude. Pure brandy and also glycerine were frozen hard. The poor dogs suffered, yet many of them preferred to remain curled up on the snow-banks outside, to occupying the tent and holes prepared for them.

On the 19th, Lockwood made a dog-sledge trip with Brainard and the Esquimaux Frederick to Depot “B,” to look for a good place to cross the straits. Found that the snow had drifted so as to form a continuous inclined plane from the bluffs far outside the snow-house and tent, thus almost concealing them. They recognized the spot only by seeing the stovepipe jutting above the snow. Knowing how the mouth of the tunnel lay from this point, they dug through the hard, compact snow, cleared out the tunnel, and soon found themselves within the snow-house. The little stove was swallowed up in a cone of snow reaching from roof to floor. This had drifted through a small aperture where the pipe pierced the roof. The fire going out after they turned in, the room became extremely damp and chilly. However, they made up for the discomforts of the night by a rousing fire in the morning, over which they got up a grand breakfast of musk-ox steak, beans, coffee, and hard-tack. They next sent the team with Frederick down to St. Patrick’s Bay for a bag of coal, while Lockwood and Brainard walked over the straits toward Polaris Promontory. Going out some four or five miles over ice of varied nature, some exceedingly broken and hummocky and some quite level, they returned, satisfied that the time for crossing over was not yet. Frederick had, in the mean time, returned, mended up the hole in the roof, made a good fire, and prepared a warm meal.

They again started out to test the important passage, taking a route farther north. There the rubble-ice reached only two hundred yards from the shore, beyond which, as far as they walked and could see, smooth ice extended. They returned, satisfied that this was the place to attempt the passage when the time should arrive for their contemplated exploration farther north.

They made the trip over the foot-ice to the station (twenty miles) in four hours, thus proving the fine condition of the sledge and dogs for traveling, and the eagerness of the dogs to rejoin their companions and pups. All the way, they had before them to the southward a rich glow on the horizon like the sunrise of a fine morning at home. They found the men celebrating the 22d of February by match-games of various kinds, and, after listening to an appropriate speech on the Father of his Country, enjoyed a good dinner.

X.
“THE ARCTIC MOON.”

As already mentioned in this narrative, among the events which occurred at the Greely Scientific Colony, or Fort Conger, was the establishment of a newspaper, the first ever issued so near the north pole, the nearest approach to it previously having been “The Ice-Blink,” issued by Kane’s Expedition in 1854. It was projected by G. W. Rice and C. B. Henry, but Lieutenant Lockwood was the editor-in-chief. The sheet was fifteen by nineteen inches in size, first prepared in manuscript and then multiplied by photograph, published on the 2d of November, 1881, and semi-monthly as to time. As the musk-oxen, the walruses, and the bears and wolves of Grinnell Land took no interest in the enterprise, the patrons of the paper were confined to the colony of explorers. In his opening address, the editor proudly claimed that his corps of contributors embraced the finest minds in the country; that his reporters would always be “on the spot”; that the journal was certain to be superior to any other in the country; and that the subscription list numbered not less than twenty-five thousand—the last assertion being a servile imitation of what often appears in the papers of New York and other American cities. And now, by way of giving the reader an idea of the style and character of this unique journal, it is proposed to reproduce in this chapter, as specimens, a collection of its editorials, contributions, items of news, and advertisements. In an article on “Christmas,” the editor gives us the following pathetic reflections:

“Our Christmas-time has come and gone, and, although our geographical position is not a favorable one for the complete observation of this joyous anniversary, it was attended with many of the happy features that make its memory a pleasant landmark of the dying year. No boughs of ‘evergreen were berried bright’ (our crop of evergreens failed this season), but had they existed, the conditions for making them ‘white with rime’ were very favorable.

“Christmas always attracts a crowd of joyous faces, and, although we missed the pleasure of ‘childhood’s grace and fair maiden’s blushes’ under the mystic mistletoe, the stalwart, bearded men who grasped hands under our smoke-begrimed roof felt indeed the inspiration of the gladsome time when the voice of man’s good-will to man speaks forth in everything. Could the possessors of the kind hearts and hands that contributed so much to the pleasure of the party have looked in upon the happy, smiling faces, living again a day of their youth in the anticipation and surprise attending the bestowal and opening of the mysterious packages containing the presents, they would have felt more than rewarded for their kind thoughtfulness. Lips unused to the task framed grateful acknowledgments of the kind act. The interest in our happiness taken by the wife of the commanding officer was repeatedly shown, and when, as we sat down to our inviting Christmas dinner, we contemplated a crowning proof of her kind good-will, repressed enthusiasm could no longer be restrained, and three rousing cheers for Mrs. Greely were given with an effect which proved beyond cavil the vigor of our lungs, and rendered unnecessary the weekly examination of the doctor.

“Of course, the festive season brought with it regrets that would not be repressed, and longings that could not be satisfied, when processions of absent loved ones and severed friends followed the funerals of other Christmas-days through thoughts that would wander over snow, and ice, and land, and sea, to the happy firesides where we knew they were gathered. But every one looked on the bright side of things, and extracted as much comfort and pleasure as possible under the circumstances; we even knew one sordid individual who congratulated himself on the immunity of his exchequer from the heavy drafts generally entailed by the purchase of Christmas presents. We have not space to enter into a detailed account of all the happy features of the holiday. Altogether, our Christmas was a great success.”

By way of showing that there was nothing very frigid in the hearts of the explorers, another editorial is submitted, on the New Year:

“Christmas is gone, with all its pleasant associations, and we find ourselves on the threshold of a new year. What thoughts the day recalls to a reflective mind! the exodus of the old, the advent of the new year; the past and the future, history and prophecy, the ceaseless alternation of life and death, the eternity of nature.

“The day is suggestive in another way. Where were we a year ago? what doing? what looking forward to? Where shall we be a year from now? what will be our surroundings, and what shall we look back upon? How distant seemed this day a year ago! how short now seems the time that has since elapsed!

“The new year of 1882 finds us a community of twenty-five men, living through the cold and darkness of an Arctic winter, in a small house near the north pole, thousands of miles beyond any civilized habitation. A year ago saw us scattered—some in the cities, some on the plains of the far West, some occupied in quiet routine, some in the ceaseless changes and activity of the field. Will the next year find us here with our surroundings as satisfactory and auspicious? We trust so, and this day is eminently a day for making good resolutions. We are free agents, and the future depends, in great part, on ourselves. Let us, then, determine that, so far as lies within our power, we shall have no cause to look back with regret on the year just ushered in. The phrase is hackneyed, but none the less true:

‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen,

The saddest are these—it might have been.’”

And now we come to a contribution addressed to the editor of the “Arctic Moon,” as follows:

“As Grinnell Land is a recognized Territory of the United States, and has a territorial form of government, a delegate from this Territory is to be elected who is to take his seat at the opening of the Forty-seventh Congress. The undersigned offers himself as a candidate for the office, on the following platform: I am in favor of reaching the north pole by balloon, a liberal appropriation for the purchase of lime-juice, compulsory education, unlimited emigration, a homestead and sixty acres of land, one musk-ox and two Esquimaux dogs to each actual settler. I am also a strong advocate of woman’s rights, but there is no good in rights without the woman. I am prepared to ‘chaw’ the points on the above platform; I think it is ‘plump,’ and will stand without being propped up.

(Signed) “Connell.”

And now, under the general heading of “Moon-Beams,” we come to the following paragraphs, which are not only spicy, but characteristic of the time and place with which they are identified:

“The British expedition found the ice in this harbor, January 1, 1876, twenty-eight and three-quarter inches thick. Measurements made this day showed thirty-four inches. Our average temperature for December was nearly eight degrees lower than theirs for the same month.

“The darkest day being a thing of the past, we shall soon find ourselves sliding down hill quite rapidly. We have made complete arrangements to have the sun interviewed on his return to this country the latter part of February.

“The walrus seem to have emigrated, so that the Dutch Island people now take their daily exercise in peas.

“‘I wonder what is in the mess-boxes?’ is the oft-repeated query. Have patience, brethren, time will show.

“Old Probabilities will be surprised to learn, that his enterprising colony at this point is indulging in outdoor sports with the thermometer at 40° below zero.

“To-day, at Dutch Island, Lieutenant Kislingbury was able to see the time of day holding his watch about one foot from his face.

“Sergeant Cross has made another addition to his already numerous trades—that of bottling samples of air for the examination and scrutiny of those not favored with a sniff of Arctic breezes.

“Sergeant Brainard is excellent authority for the statement that the gate-money taken at the racing contest will be devoted to the advancement of geographical knowledge within the Arctic Circle. Such being the case, the number of aborigines present will be a crucial test of the desire on the part of the Grinnellites to bring their country into more general knowledge.

“Wanted—A good family horse. Will buy it cheap, or will take for his keeping, or keep for his taking. To be used on good country roads and for family driving. Must be very gentle. No objections to a Government mule. Address Jacob Doboy.

“Wanted—A poet for the ‘Arctic Moon.’ Must be strictly temperate and a good speech-maker. No tailors need apply. Address this office.

“Wanted—A humoristic writer for the ‘Arctic Moon.’ The present incumbent has suddenly become ill from too close application.

“Information wanted of the Greely Arctic Expedition. It strayed away from home last July, and was last heard from at Upernavik, Greenland.

“We beg leave to announce to the public that we have made extensive improvements in our establishment, whereby we can furnish at the shortest notice bread, twists, rolls, cakes, pies, tarts, and, in fact, anything in the baker’s line. Wedding cakes made a specialty. Are thankful for past patronage, and respectfully ask its continuance in future.

“Frederick Shootman, “San Francisco Longman, “Merchant Bakers.”

XI.
EXPEDITION TO LOCKWOOD ISLAND.

On the 29th of February, Lieutenant Lockwood went upon an experimental trip to Thank God Harbor preparatory to his proposed grand expedition along the coast of Northern Greenland. His companions were Brainard, Jewell, Long, and the Esquimaux, Frederick and Jans, with two dog-teams. As the dogs, constantly yelping and howling, competed for the mastery, they traveled rapidly, and, after many twistings and turnings, reached their destination, where they found the observatory still standing. They took a necessary inventory, and, after a survey of the dismal plain, visited the grave of C. F. Hall, where Lieutenant Lockwood recorded the following touching notice in his journal: “The head-board erected by his comrades, as also the metallic one left by the English, still stands. How mournful to me the scene, made more so by the howling of the winds and the thick atmosphere! It was doubtless best that he died where he did. I have come to regard him as a visionary and an enthusiast, who was indebted more to fortune than to those practical abilities which Kane possessed. Yet he gave his life to the cause, and that must always go far toward redeeming the short-comings of any man. The concluding lines of the inscription on the English tablet, I think good: ‘To Captain Hall, who sacrificed his life in the advancement of science, November 8, 1871. This tablet has been erected by the British Polar Expedition of 1875, which followed in his footsteps and profited by his experience.’”

The American inscription on the wooden headboard was as follows:

IN MEMORY OF
CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,
LATE COMMANDER U. S. STEAMER POLARIS,
NORTH POLE EXPEDITION.
Died November 8, 1871.

“I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”

After various struggles with the snow, fog, and cold weather, ending in frosted feet and faces, and after inspecting a boat left by Buddington, they returned by way of the snow-house at Cape Beechy, and, all very much exhausted, reached the station, receiving a hearty welcome. Greely had been very anxious about the party, owing to a storm of great violence, and had sent Dr. Pavy with men to their relief. The trip thus made covered not less than one hundred and forty miles. Lockwood now decided that on the 1st of April he would start upon his proposed expedition. This trip occupied his mind continually. He hoped he might be successful, yet there were many chances of failure. Who could divine the future? He felt that he ought to be able to reach Cape Britannia, but that was not enough; he desired to do more.

As the time for taking his departure approached, Lockwood was greatly troubled with rheumatism, but still was very busy in maturing his plans. Lieutenant Greely wrote him a flattering letter, putting the whole plan of operations in his hands and placing at his disposal the entire personnel and material of the expedition. This would include almost all who could take the field. The men were becoming enthusiastic and were showing an admirable spirit, although they knew from experience that they were to engage in no child’s play. Almost all of those selected had shown pluck hitherto. Without this element no one could endure the hardships that they might have to undergo. Should any of those selected break down early, there were excellent substitutes among those left behind. Lockwood was pleased with an exhibition of pluck by Ellis, who walked all the way from Depot “A” with a frozen foot, refusing the offer of Jewell to bring him on the dog-sledge. Jewell, on returning from Lincoln Bay, had orders to convey stores to the “Gap,” where the boat previously sent over the strait lay. Hence, before starting, supplies would be placed at Depot “B,” at the “Gap,” and at a point intermediate on the frozen strait.

Having all things complete, Sergeant Brainard was to proceed at once with the supporting parties to Cape Sumner. He was to leave Depot “B” with a weight to drag of one hundred and thirty pounds per man. Lockwood was to follow with dog-sledge loaded with five hundred pounds of pemmican. Thus they would concentrate at Cape Sumner with the six hundred rations in hand, together with seven hundred pounds of dog pemmican. The stores embraced pemmican, bacon, corned beef, roast musk-ox, raw musk-ox, English beef, hard bread, canned beans, potatoes, sugar, tea, chocolate, and coffee, besides which they carried alcohol for cooking and lime-juice as an anti-scorbutic. Their sledge ration had been made up by consultation with Lieutenant Greely, though, of course, it might be departed from if circumstances required. The diet list was purposely a varied one. No rum or spirits were taken except as a medicine. The main supporting party consisted of Sergeant Lynn, Corporal Ellison, and privates Biederbick, Whistler, and Henry.

Lieutenant Lockwood, Sergeant Jewell, and the Esquimaux Frederick formed the advance party, while Sergeants Brainard and Ralston, Corporal Saler, and privates Connell, Fredericks, and one other man constituted the second supporting party.

Sledging over the Arctic Floe.

On the 2d of April, the main and second supporting parties moved off in good style, amid the waving of flags, firing of pistols, cheers, and other demonstrations. Both Lieutenants Greely and Lockwood took occasion to address the men a few words of encouragement and advice. Lockwood confined his remarks to the necessity of co-operation and subordination as the chief essentials to success. He would follow with Jewell and the dog-sledge, and, if he knew himself, would not return unsuccessful. He got off at 8 P. M., with Jewell, Frederick, and the dog-sledge Antoinette. The team of eight consisted of “Ritenbank, the king,” a large white dog, at whose growl all the rest trembled; “Major,” a friend of Ritenbank, and a very useful, good-natured old fellow, hard-working and quiet, without any special characteristics; “Howler,” a large, lean, mean, ill-natured brute, whom they took on board at Disco, and who lorded it over the rest till Ritenbank came on board at the place of the same name, when Howler was dethroned; since which he had been morose and misanthropic, and never associated with the other dogs. He set up the most unearthly howling whenever any other dog approached him, especially if that other dog had designs on something he was engaged in eating or trying to eat—a tin can, for instance. At the end of a march, when the pemmican was being cut up, and he, with the rest, was awaiting his opportunity to make a general rush, his howling became almost unendurable. But he was especially despicable, because he allowed any and every dog of the team to jump on and bite him. His only redeeming trait was his earnestness in pulling, for, when the sledge stuck in deep snow or rubble-ice, he was the last of the dogs to sit on his haunches and look while you got it out. On several occasions when Ritenbank was making efforts to get inside the tent and steal the meat while all were asleep, Howler had given the alarm by his unearthly howling. His place in the team was on the right flank, and he kept it all the time, never dropping back and coming up in the wrong place, as did the other dogs. Next to Howler was the “Woolly dog,” a dirty-looking cur with long white hair, which made Howler’s life a burden all the time by snapping at him as he hauled by his side. Next came the “kooneys,” signifying in Esquimaux mother-dogs. They were called “Black Kooney” and “White Kooney,” and were both good workers. Then came “Ask-him,” a pup when brought on board in Greenland, but now of age, and bearing the airs of a veteran. He brooked insult from no dog but Ritenbank, and evidently bided his time to contest the throne with him. He had even taken upon himself the kingly custom of biting the adjoining dog whenever he felt the whip. On his left were two dogs already named, “Major” and the “Boss.” On the left flank was “Gypsy,” a little fat kooney dog which pulled only under the lash, and yet by foraging and stealing managed to get twice the rations of any of the rest, and was always plump and fat.

The advance party reached Depot “A” in good time, and took on five sacks (five hundred pounds) of dog pemmican and some cans of corned beef, which made their load very heavy.

On the 5th of April, Lockwood reached the snow-house, and there found Brainard and the rest, making thirteen altogether. They completely filled the house, and also the dug-out in the snow-bank adjoining, so that Lockwood and Jewell moved the provisions out of the tent, and slept there, and Frederick in the tunnel. The tent being snowed in to the ridge-pole, and connected with the tunnel, they were quite comfortable. On the same day they saw an eagle on a floe-berg, which was considered a good omen. After needed rest all hands took their departure. The snow on the ice-floe was somewhat deep, and the loads very heavy. The route across the straits, previously determined on, was from Cape Beechy to within five or six miles of the east shore, and then as direct as possible to Cape Sumner. On reaching the tent on the straits, about four and one half miles out, Lockwood dropped his load, and went back to look after the sledges, then out of sight. He found Whistler sick and unable to pull, and Biederbick and Connell trying to pull the load without him—not an encouraging commencement of a long journey. Aided by the dog-sledge, all soon reached the tent and camped for the night. Lockwood, Jewell, and Frederick slept in the wall-tent, pitched there some weeks before. Lockwood writes at this point: “Finding it very cold, I was glad to get up and out, leaving Jewell to the unhappy work of getting breakfast. (Breakfast! what a misnomer in such cases!) I then went to the two tents occupied by the others to inquire for healths. Mr. Henry, correspondent of the ‘Chicago Times’ (as he called himself), the same who had written on the side of a large iceberg, ‘Ho! for Cape Britannia,’ said he could go no farther, as he had been suffering dreadfully all night with rheumatism; or, if he did go farther, we would have to haul him back, while from here he thought he could manage to hobble by himself to the snow-house, and, after resting there and again at Depot ‘A,’ reach the station. Henry is a big fellow, over six feet in height, with apparently the strength and physique of Hercules. It was a bad omen for the rest of us when he broke down. Connell had frozen his feet the previous day quite badly, and only discovered the extent of the injury after getting into camp, but thought he could go on, or at least was determined to try. All hands looked very forlorn, but generally were resolute and determined. Finally, Jewell had the tea and canned meat warmed sufficiently, and we stuffed ourselves with all there was to stuff, and prepared to follow the others who had already started. We overtook Fredericks (the saddler) struggling along in the snow with a sledge all by himself. He was a dwarf by the side of the giant Henry. It was necessary to do something, and so I told Jewell he must join Fredericks, and leave the Esquimaux and me to manage the dog-sledge. I overtook the main party about a mile and a half from camp, doing their best. Connell could hardly walk at all, and it was utterly impossible for him to pull. He was very reluctant to go back, but there was no alternative; so, throwing off the load, I took him on the dog-sledge as far as Cape Beechy, whence he thought he could get along by himself. On returning I picked up the load, and proceeded to follow the trail of the others. The snow soon became worse, and the sledge so often stuck that I determined to double up—take half the load at a time. The Esquimaux dogs can pull a very heavy load, and through bad places, but the moment the sledge comes to a dead halt they sit on their haunches, turn complacently round, and wait till the sledge is extricated. If not fully started, they will pull at random, or not at all. On these occasions the hard work comes upon the driver and others with the sledge.”

On the 7th, they joined the other wing of the expedition, finding them in camp some miles south-west of the gap. The wind had been blowing and snow drifting for some hours, and everything indicated a storm. Lockwood and Frederick pitched tent and went into camp, first bringing up the rest of the load.

While the storm was still raging, they got off with half the load, leaving the rest making preparations for a move, and took a course for Cape Sumner, whose steep, rocky face loomed up in the distance, terminated by a line of magnificent cliffs, which extended unbroken, except by “the Gap,” as far south as Cape Lupton of Polaris fame. They traveled upon level floes interrupted by ridges of hummocky ice, over which they had to get the sledge as best they could, and with frequent use of the axe. The wind blowing stronger, and the air being obscured with driving snow, they could with difficulty pick their way. Traveling over the straits was like navigating a ship in a tortuous channel. They soon found themselves in the midst of a mass of rubble-ice of the worst description; gaps and chasms between the crags and blocks of ice, often filled with loose snow, or entirely obscured by that flying through the air. They could barely see the cliffs on their right, and could not recognize their position. The dogs became very much discouraged, Frederick also, and Lockwood himself felt in no very enviable frame of mind. After many ineffectual efforts, and unloading and reloading repeatedly, they left the load and attempted to explore a route to shore. Not succeeding, they hunted for some suitable snow-drift in which to burrow, and there await better weather; but saw none. Finally, the storm letting up for a moment, they found a level floe, and, with the use of the axe, Lockwood and Frederick got the sledge upon it.

On the 8th, at 3 A. M., they arrived at Cape Sumner, and, getting through the rubble-ice near the shore, gained the steep snow-slope which lay between the foot of the cliffs and the line of immense floe-bergs along the shore, stranded and pressed close up to the snow-slope. Between the bergs and the slope, the wind had made great gaps, deep and tortuous. The only way to get along was either through these gaps—often like pits—or to take the slope above and run the risk of tumbling down into them, sledge and all, sometimes fifteen or twenty feet. There was often no alternative but the latter. Lockwood expected to find it calm there by reason of the protection of the bluffs, but, on the contrary, the wind came down from above in gusts and whirlwinds, filling the air with eddying columns of snow. When about a mile from the Polaris Boat Camp, they encountered an immense mass of snow entirely filling up the ravine from top to bottom. Leaving the sledge, Lockwood went on to see if he could reach the Boat Camp, but could hardly keep his feet on account of the wind. Returning, he and Frederick made a small hole in the side of a large drift, and, pulling in everything the dogs could possibly eat, prepared to “weather the storm.” By 9 A. M., supper had been eaten in darkness, for they had no candles, and Frederick, wedged close up to him in the frozen sleeping-bag, was snorting away like a steam-engine. Lockwood soon fell asleep too, but woke up to find the sleeping-bag and his footgear and clothes wet with the moisture such close quarters produced. Everything inside was thawing. Soon after, masses of snow falling down through a number of rents in the side and roof of the excavation, he began to think they would be smothered alive. But while thinking about it, he went to sleep again, leaving Frederick snorting as before. Just how long they slept in that snow-bank, they did not know, but when they did wake up and try to emerge, they found themselves completely snowed in, and only got out by vigorous use of their knives, so hard and compact had the ice and snow become. Frederick being able to understand only signs and a very few words chiefly referring to food, their conversation was very limited.

They found the dogs and sledge almost buried in snow. Hastily harnessing up, they reached the Boat Camp on Newman’s Bay at noon. Here they again went into camp by digging into a snow-bank and covering the hole with the tent. “Skaffer,” or eating, being first in order, they supplied themselves by thawing their prepared roast. Then they had a smoke—that great solace of the traveler in every clime. Snow-houses and snow-holes, they concluded, have many objections, but they always have the merit of being warm. Feeling uneasy about Brainard and his party, imagining all manner of things about them, at 9 P. M., Lockwood left everything behind and went forth with dogs and sledge to hunt them up, and at midnight met them valiantly struggling along toward the Boat Camp. They had found shelter from the storm behind a large, friendly floe-berg, where the tent could stand. On the 10th, preceding them, he picked up the bags of pemmican he had put off, and returned to Boat Camp, where they came also and burrowed in the snow. All thus found themselves at their first station. Jewell, being originally of the party of the dog-sledge, lodged and fed with them when together, he sleeping in a single bag, and Lockwood and Frederick together. “It was,” Lockwood remarks, “a choice of evils which to prefer—Frederick groaning like a piece of machinery, or Jewell always getting the stockings and wraps mixed up, and invariably laying hold of the dry ones as his own.”

“Snow-holes,” he again says, “having the insuperable objection of asphyxiation, we repaired the tents and returned to civilization—that is, went really into camp. Whistler and Bender were found completely done up this morning both in flesh and spirits—all kinds of pains, shortness of breath, spitting of blood, faintness. Not being enthusiastic about going farther, I deemed it best to send them back, and they left at once for the station.”

They now had several things to look to before going farther—to bring up the rations sent across to the Gap, also to bring over those left at the tent on the straits.

At midnight, Brainard and party, with three Hudson Bay sledges, started on this work, and Lockwood left two hours after, with a dog-sledge and Frederick, for the same purpose. Taking advantage of smooth ice, interrupted now and then outside the pack near shore, he soon overhauled Brainard, and they reached the Gap together. There they found the boat, which had been sent over with so much labor, a complete wreck. They, however, placed it out of reach of further damage, as it might yet become important to them. They then went into camp by going into a snow-burrow prepared there some weeks before when the boat had been brought over, and proceeded to have a feast, which possessed at least one merit, that of being enough, for Lockwood did not deem it necessary to adhere strictly to sledge rations till they had left their base of supplies. Leaving the others to load up and return to Boat Camp, he and Frederick left with the dog-sledge for the food put out on the straits en route. Part of this they took up and then joined the others at Boat Camp, men and dogs well spent and tired; but a good meal, a good smoke, and a snooze in their bags, set them all right.

Their number was now reduced to nine, two having been sent back soon after leaving the snow-house (Depot “B”), and two from Boat Camp. The Hudson Bay sledges were much worn, and likely to become useless. Lockwood now determined to return to the main station for new runners, leaving the men under Brainard to bring up the supplies still out, and otherwise make ready for the advance. The round trip would be one hundred miles, and would add much to the labor of the dogs, but there was no help for it, as he could take no chances on the threshold of the long journey before them.

Soon after making this resolve, he and Frederick got off with their team, carrying nothing but an axe and half a pound of tobacco. The dogs were in fine condition, notwithstanding their recent hard work. True, they supplemented their rations and thus added to their strength by stealing thirty-five pounds of bacon! “It is wonderful,” Lockwood here remarks, “what these Esquimaux dogs can do. This team, which was regarded as a scrub affair—Dr. Pavy having had his pick of dogs—hauled ice all through the winter, made a trip beyond Cape Beechy in February, another to Thank-God-Harbor and Newman’s Bay in March, and then hauled a load to Lincoln Bay and four days after started on this present trip; yet now they travel along as lively as ever—so lively that the driver finds it difficult to keep up.”

They duly reached the station, and, of course, Greely and all were surprised to see them, probably taking them for another cargo of cripples. After a good sleep and a feast, they were off on their return at 10 P. M. of the 14th. They took on the runners, a feed of walrus-meat, a few other trifles, and also a heliograph, the last to open communication in case of delay or disaster. Stopping six hours at the snow-house to rest and feed, they started across the strait with a small load of meat, and, notwithstanding some rubble-ice which delayed them, reached the Boat Camp at 5.30 P. M., very tired and very sleepy, too, having accomplished this remarkable journey of one hundred miles in fifty-four hours. During their absence, Brainard had brought in everything, and all was ready for the advance as soon as they could repair the sledges.

After repairing and rebuilding, they had for the trip:

1. Dog-sledge, Lieutenant Lockwood and Esquimaux Frederick; total weight, 743 pounds.