THE GREAT WHITE NORTH

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
TORONTO

Commander Robert Edwin Peary, U.S.N.

Who reached the Pole April 6, 1909

Copyright by Clinedinst, Washington, D.C.

THE GREAT WHITE NORTH

THE STORY OF
POLAR EXPLORATION
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE
DISCOVERY OF THE POLE

BY
HELEN S. WRIGHT

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1910

All rights reserved

Copyright, 1910,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1910.

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

PREFACE

The material for this book has been gathered from the rich storehouse of Arctic Literature. The chief labour of its composition lay in elimination rather than construction. The great field I have endeavoured to present can hardly be brought with justice to the narrow bounds of a single cover, but I have conscientiously endeavoured to bring to the reader’s mind an accurate record of brilliant deeds that go to make the history of the far North, and have let the explorers themselves tell the story of how these deeds have been accomplished.

Between the lines of their simple language describing stern facts or desperate realities, one reads the character and temperament of the adventurer; one gathers lessons of patience, self-sacrifice, and endurance unsurpassed in the history of mankind, and perhaps appreciates, for the first time, the splendid fibre of which he is made. Stripped of the conventions and luxuries of civilized life, he plunges into the great unknown to fight a relentless war against the greatest foes to his existence,—Cold, Starvation, and Death. Though he may fall by the wayside a victim to the Cause, or crawl home on hands and knees over the rough fastnesses of the frozen wilderness, famishing,—perhaps dying,—the record of his work lives on; the fundamental principles of great character do not perish, but stand through the centuries, a star of hope to the weary traveller on his pilgrimage along the well-trodden pathway of everyday life, and stirs the layman to a better endurance of the burdens and perplexities of the common lot.

It is with pleasure I make grateful acknowledgment to the gentlemen who have accorded me their gracious permission to quote from their works, to Commander Robert E. Peary, to Major-General A. W. Greely, and Sir Allen Young, and to the following publishers and others who, by furnishing material or giving consent to use selected matter, or by kind assistance in other ways, have made my work possible: The American Publishing Company, Hartford, Conn., for selections from “Our Lost Explorers”; D. Appleton & Company for selections from Charles Lanman’s “Farthest North” and Payer’s “New Lands within the Arctic Circle”; The Century Company for selections from General Greely’s article on “The Northwest Passage”; to Clinedinst, Washington, D.C., for permission to reproduce the copyright portraits of Admirals Schley and Melville, General Greely, and Commander Peary; Constable & Company, and E. P. Dutton & Company, Ltd., London, for permission to reproduce the portrait of Amundsen in the latter’s work, “The Northwest Passage”; Doubleday, Page & Company for selections from Commander Peary’s “Nearest the Pole,” and for the portrait of Anthony Fiala and other illustrations from the latter’s work, “Fighting the Polar Ice”; The Encyclopædia Britannica Company for a selection from an article by Markham on “Polar Regions”; to J. Scott Keltie, Esq., editor of the Geographical Journal, for selections from that journal; Houghton; Mifflin Company for selections from “The Voyage of the Jeannette” and Melville’s “In the Lena Delta”; Dodd, Mead & Company for selections from the Duke of Abruzzi’s “On the Polar Star”; Benjamin B. Hampton, Esq., for permission to reproduce photographs of the Peary expedition of 1908 and Commander Peary’s map, and Mr. Hampton and the New York Times for permission to quote Commander Peary’s telegram announcing his discovery of the Pole; the editor of the Illustrated London News for permission to reproduce the portraits of Sir Edward Belcher, Captain Nares, and Commander Markham; Little, Brown & Company for selections from General Greely’s “Handbook of Polar Discoveries”; The London Agency for Ordnance Maps for selections from Sir Allen Young’s “Pandora Voyages”; Longmans, Green & Company for selections from Nansen’s “First Crossing of Greenland” and Sverdrup’s “New Land”; the editor of McClure’s Magazine for a selection from Mr. Baldwin’s article on “The Baldwin-Ziegler Arctic Expedition,” which appeared in that magazine in 1901-1902; Albert Operti, Esq., for permission to reproduce the portraits of W. H. Gilder, Lieutenant Schwatka, Colonel Brainard, Captain De Long, and Lieutenant Lockwood; C. Kegan Paul & Company for a selection from Markham’s “Great Frozen Sea”; G. P. Putnam’s Sons for a selection from Mr. Alger’s article on “Roald Amundsen,” which appeared in Putnam’s Monthly; the editor of the American Review of Reviews for a selection from Mr. McGrath’s article on “Polar Exploration,” which appeared in that magazine; Sampson, Low, Marston & Company, London, for a selection from “German Arctic Expeditions”; Charles Scribner’s Sons for a selection from Schwatka’s “Search,” Greely’s “Three Years’ Arctic Service,” and Schley’s “Rescue of Greely”; F. A. Stokes Company for permission to reproduce illustrations from Commander Peary’s work, “The North Pole,” and for the loan of photographs; and to the same company for selections from Andrée’s “Balloon Expedition” and Peary’s “Northward over the Great Ice.”

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Transcriber’s Note: There are nine additional illustrations not listed above:

Transcriber’s Note: image is clickable for a larger version

HONDIUS HIS MAP OF THE ARCTIKE POLE, OR NORTHERNE WORLD

THE GREAT WHITE NORTH

CHAPTER I

Early adventurers: Pytheas.—Dicuil.—Other.—Wulfstan.—The Norsemen.—Iva Bardsen.—The Cabots.—The Cortereals.—Willoughby and Chancellor.—Stephen Burrough.—Niccolò Zeno.—Frobisher.—Pet and Jackman.—Sir Humphrey Gilbert.—Davis.—Barentz.

A grave old world, majestically swinging upon its axis, the mystery of its northern extremity locked closely within its breast, is suddenly electrified by the news that at last man, for centuries baffled in his heroic efforts, has revealed its hidden secret, and that Old Glory, symbol of the daring of the moderns, floats from the Pole itself.

What a thrill of interest passes over the nations of the earth; universal excitement; universal rejoicings. Cablegram, Marconigram, carry the wonderful tidings under the seas or around the world in space.

The Pole at last! For ages the northern lights have beckoned the adventurous spirits to fathom the phenomena of the great unknown, have lured man into harbours fantastic with the frozen ice of centuries, have inspired him to cross the Greenland ice cap—or make his lonely trail through the “barrens” of North America or the desolate “tundra” of Siberia, his dauntless courage unquenched by previous records of privation, starvation, and death itself. One after another of intrepid explorers have left their stories of thrilling adventure, and record of their names or those of their benefactors to mark their personal discoveries.

What a history, what suffering, what sacrifice, compensated by great achievement, by heroism, by glory—by the additions to the world’s record of scientific knowledge!

Who were the early mariners that aspired to penetrate the unknown seas of ice? Far back in the centuries, Pytheas, bold adventurer, brought back rumours of an island in the Arctic Circle called Thule, at first welcomed by the ancients as a wonderful discovery, but afterwards discredited. In the ninth century some Irish monks, carried away by religious enthusiasm and an adventurous spirit, seem to have visited Iceland, and one, Dicuil by name, left written evidence, about 825, confirming the story of the island Thule, which some of the brethren visited, and reported there was no darkness at the summer solstice. Other and Wulfstan, athirst for discovery and knowledge, set sail in the reign of King Alfred, and in all probability the former rounded the North Cape and visited the shores of Lapland, though his exact discoveries cannot now be identified.

Sebastian Cabot

From the “Harford” portrait attributed to Holbein

The hardy Norsemen, realizing the advantage of hunting and barter among the natives of Greenland, made permanent settlements at Brattelid and Einarsfjord. As far as 73° north latitude a cairn was found, and upon a runic stone was a date 1235, and there is evidence that other settlers reached as far as latitude 75° 46´ N. and Barrow Strait in 1266 or thereabouts. Toward the middle of the fourteenth century Norway was cursed with the Black Death, and the colonists in far-off Greenland were forgotten. Forsaken by their own countrymen, they received little assistance from the native Eskimos, for we read they were overrun and attacked by them about 1349. A rare old document, the oldest work on Arctic geography, consisting of sailing directions for reaching the colony from Ireland, was written by one Iva Bardsen, the steward of the Bishopric of Gardar, in the East Bygd. Bardsen was a native of Greenland and went forth for the purpose of helping the sister colony. All of this early history is vague and unsatisfying, but it shows the adventurous spirit of those early mariners. Within the next hundred years, that is to say between 1348 and 1448, at rare intervals there was some communication with the Greenland settlements, but finally it ceased altogether. Later the desire to find a short route to India inspired merchantman and mariner to cross the Arctic Circle, and in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries expeditions of note, led by men of dauntless spirit, find their record upon the pages of history.

THE CABOTS

Born in Bristol, England, about 1476, Sebastian Cabot, ambitious son of an adventurous father, John Cabot, became zealous at an early age, through the successes of Columbus, to attempt a like achievement. Father and son proposed to Henry VII to sail west, and reach India by a shorter route. The king, pleased with the idea of entering a new field of maritime discovery, confided to the Cabots the execution of this plan. A patent was granted March 5, 1496. “It empowered them to seek out, subdue, and occupy, at their own charges, any regions which before had been unknown to all Christians.” They were empowered to take possession of such lands and set up the royal banner. They were authorized to return to the port of Bristol and no other, and a fifth of the gains of the voyage were to be turned over to the crown. The following year, 1497, John and Sebastian sailed from Bristol in the good ship Mathew.

By the records of an old map of this period the land first seen by the Cabots was the coast of Nova Scotia or Island of Cape Breton. The Cabots designated the mainland as “Prima Terra Vesta,” and is outlined between 45° and 50°, showing land called St. Juan, no doubt Prince Edward Island and mouth of the St. Lawrence. In the Privy Purse expenses of Henry VII there is the following interesting expenditure, “10th of August, 1497. To him that found the new Isle, £10.” No doubt, this modest sum was paid for Newfoundland.

With the enthusiasm of the first voyagers stimulating them to fresh effort, the Cabots secured a second “patent” to John Cabot, dated February 3, 1498, giving him the command of six vessels, of not more than two hundred tons each, and to quote the exact words of this document, “them convey and lede to the lande and isles of late found by the said John in oure name and by oure commandment.”

But before the small fleet was in readiness, the father died, and to his son fell the enterprise. With five vessels, Sebastian set sail from Bristol in May, 1498, and reaching the American coast ascended as high as 67° north latitude, probably passing into Hudson Bay. He determined to press on in a desire to find an open channel to India. His men became appalled at the dangers that beset navigation in those higher latitudes and mutinied, compelling him to retrace his course.

There is a vague rumour that he had with him upon this voyage over a hundred emigrants, whom he landed in these high latitudes, and who all perished from cold, although the season was midsummer. However, he brought back to England three natives of the countries he had visited, and for his successful discoveries of more than eighteen hundred miles of our North American coast, the king rewarded him by conferring upon him the office of Grand Pilot of England.

The interest and exertions of Sebastian Cabot did not abate, for this hero, extolled by contemporary writers for his character and courage, by his unflagging perseverance and indomitable will promoted the successful expeditions of 1553, for which he was appointed governor for life of the Muscovy Company. This company was established by the merchants of London for the purpose of extending commerce and trade in India and Cathay, and to find a northeast route that would expedite their enterprise.

WILLOUGHBY AND CHANCELLOR

Three ships were fitted out, and Cabot drew up instructions which are curious reading at this day. The expedition was under Sir Hugh Willoughby and Richard Chancellor, and sailed May 20, 1553, “for the search and discovery of northern parts of the world, to open a way and passage to our men, for travel to new and unknown kingdoms.” Cabot instructs these men to treat all natives “with gentleness and courtesy, without any disdain, laughing, or contempt.” If they should be invited to dine with any lord or ruler, they should go armed and in a posture of defence. He tells them to beware of “persons armed with bows, who swim naked in various seas and harbours, desirous of the bodies of men which they covet for meat.”

Of Sir Hugh Willoughby, first in command of the Bona Speranza, it is recorded that he was tall and handsome and had proved a valiant soldier; of Richard Chancellor, that he was beloved and genial and especially noted for “many good parts of wit.”

Thus on that bright morning in early May, these two commanders with their loyal crew sailed down the Thames amid the firing of guns and cheers of the crowds assembled upon the river banks to wish them God-speed. It was understood between the commanders that should their vessels become separated, they should try to meet at Wardhuys, “a good port in Finmark.”

They proceeded northward and passed the northernmost cape of Europe in July. At night during a dense fog and storm, the two ships separated, the third and smallest kept with Willoughby, and the two brave commanders and their crews never met again. Proceeding northward some two hundred miles, reaching Nova Zembla, Willoughby was forced by the ice to return to a lower latitude. In September, 1553, he harboured in the mouth of the river Arzina, in Lapland.

He wrote in his journal at this time: “Thus remaining in this haven the space of a weeke, seing the year farre spent, and also very evill wether,—as frost, snowe, and haile, as though it had been the deepe of winter, wee thought it best to winter there.”

In January, according to the record of Willoughby’s journal, all were living. In the spring Russian sailors, venturing in these high latitudes, were surprised to see two ships frozen in the ice. The relentless grip of the Arctic winter still held them fast; the hand of death in its most gruesome shape had reaped its harvest. Not a man survived. How brief the details, yet the imagination shudders at the agonies of their last days,—the cold, intense, congealing; the impenetrable, melancholy dark, and death, laying its icy fingers upon the despairing heart of each in turn and the “last Man,” surrounded by the stark forms of his companions, wrestling alone with inexorable fate.

Chancellor’s vessel, the Bona Ventura, reached the Bay of St. Nicholas, and landed near Archangel, which was then but an isolated castle. He undertook a journey to Moscow, which resulted in successful arrangements for commercial enterprise, Russia at that time being almost as little known as the far east. Returning safely to England, he was warmly welcomed as having proved the practical utility of Arctic voyages.

One of the companions of Chancellor on this voyage, Stephen Burrough, materially aided by Sebastian Cabot, then in his eighty-fourth year, set sail in 1556 from Gravesend, in a small pinnace named the Search-thrift. Before the departure, the ship and crew were visited by Cabot, and it is recorded of this farewell visit that “Master Cabot gave the poor most liberal almes, wishing them to pray for the good fortune and prosperous success of the Search-thrift; and for very joy that he had to see towardness of our intended discovery, he entered into the dance among the rest of the young and lusty company; which being ended he and his friends departed most gently, commending us to the governance of Almighty God.”

Sir Hugh Willoughby

Burrough skirted the northern coast of Lapland to the eastward, discovering the strait leading to the Kara Sea, between Nova Zembla and Waigat. As a result of “the great and terrible abundance of ice that we saw with our eyes,” Burrough explored no farther, but sailing into the White Sea wintered at Colomogro, returning home the following spring.

THE CORTEREALS

As early as 1500 a Portuguese, Caspar Cortereal by name, endeavoured to reach Cathay by the Northwest Passage and reached between 50° and 60° north latitude. After making captive some fifty-seven natives, for the purpose of making them slaves, he returned to Lisbon, October 18, 1501.

The following year he set sail again with two ships and is supposed to have reached Hudson Strait, where the vessels became separated. Caspar Cortereal and his crew were never heard of again.

The other ship returned to Lisbon with the unfortunate tidings, and a brother, Miguel, set sail from Lisbon, in the spring of 1502, on a searching expedition. Upon reaching Hudson Strait the ships separated to explore the various inlets and islands of the locality. Two of the ships reached the point of rendezvous, but the third, with Miguel Cortereal on board, never appeared. Thus the two brothers shared a like fate.

A third brother, Vasco, petitioned the king to equip another expedition to send in search of the missing men, but this the king refused to do on the ground that the loss of two was greater than he could afford to sustain. No tidings were ever received that could throw any light upon the sad fate of the bold mariners.

One of the most curious productions by geographers was a map published in 1558 by one Niccolò Zeno, a Venetian noble, whose ancestor of the same name had left with notes and journals a record of certain northern journeys made by him toward the end of the fourteenth century. He had entered as pilot the service of a mariner named Zichnmi, remained many years in his service, and, joined later by a brother called Antonio, spent some time in a country he named Frislanda. Later both brothers found their way back to Venice. The young Niccolò, discovering the mutilated letters and maps of these brothers, proceeded to prepare a narrative and elaborate map which was considered a most valuable addition to knowledge and continued to be an authority for more than a century.

The names are very curious and confusing, but are supposed to be identified as follows:—

Engronelant, Greenland; Islanda, Iceland; Estland, Shetland Islands; Frisland, Faroe Isles; Mackland, Nova Scotia; Estotiland, Newfoundland; Drogeo, coast of North America; Icaria, coast of Kerry or Ireland.

FROBISHER

The three voyages of Frobisher undertaken between the years 1576-1578 were in a great measure financed by a rich and influential merchant named Michael Lok, whose passion for geographical research led him to encourage the young explorer, who set out in the spring of 1576 in two small vessels, the Gabriel and Michael. The latter parted company in the Atlantic, and the Gabriel continued her voyage alone. Frobisher sighted land about July 20 and called it Queen Elizabeth’s Foreland.

Continuing on his course, he entered the following day the strait that bears his name, calling the land “Meta Incognita.” He made a landing and explored the land to some extent, returning to England with some bright yellow ore which aroused the enthusiasm of gold seekers and greatly assisted him in expediting his other voyages. His primary aim of seeking for the Northwest Passage was all but forgotten in the excitement caused by the possible discovery of untold wealth.

Queen Elizabeth issued instructions for his guidance upon future voyages: “Yf yt be possible,” so states the official document, “you shall have some persons to winter in the straight, giving them instructions how they may observe the nature of the ayre and state of the countrie, and what time of the yeare the straight is most free from yce; with who you shall leave a sufficient preparation of victualls and weapons, and also a pynnas, with a carpenter, and thyngs necessarie, so well as may be.”

The second journey, much better equipped than the first, brought home, beside specimens of plants and stones, large quantities of the supposed gold ore. But though the dream of an El Dorado was never realized, and the ore was eventually proved worthless, Frobisher’s greatest victory to science was establishing the fact that there were two or more wide openings leading to the westward between latitude 60° and 63° on the American coast. Of his personal character we note with interest that he was a brave, skilful leader of men, rough in bearing, but a strict disciplinarian, and carried through his designs with the enthusiasm of a true explorer.

PET AND JACKMAN

Arthur Pet and Charles Jackman, commanding two vessels, set out in 1580 with instructions to sail through the strait leading between Nova Zembla and Waigat, and from thence eastward beyond the Obi River. They reached Wardhuys on the 23d of June. About two weeks later they approached Nova Zembla, but ice retarded their advance. They sighted Waigat on the 19th of July. While trying to push their way along its southern coast, they were embarrassed by shallows and obliged to go round by the north. They forced their way between the shore and a low island only to be closed in by the ice, which stopped further progress. The ships were widely separated, and could only communicate with each other by the beating of drums or firing of muskets. Warping their ships as opportunity offered, they finally got in closer communication. Of the weather, they write at this time, “Winds we have had at will, but ice and fogs too much against our wills, if it had pleased the Lord otherwise.” Surrounded by fields of ice, enveloped in fog, they were obliged to make fast to icebergs, where, “abiding the Lord’s pleasure, they continued with patience.” By the 13th of August the season was considered too far advanced to penetrate farther. Pet had discovered a strait between the mainland and Waigat leading into the Kara Sea, and with this news he returned to England. Jackman wintered in a Norwegian port; sailing home in the spring, his ship with all on board was lost at sea.

SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT

The distinguished British naval commander, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, near relative of Sir Walter Raleigh and favourite of Queen Elizabeth, being ambitious to colonize Newfoundland, obtained in 1578 full power from the queen to undertake a voyage of discovery and settle such parts of North America “as no Christian prince or his subjects could claim from previous possession.” His second voyage was undertaken in 1583, and with five ships under his command, he sailed out of Plymouth Sound, June 11.

Martin Frobisher

A contagious disease breaking out on one of the vessels, the property of Sir Walter Raleigh, and commanded by Captain Butler, it returned to England; the four remaining, the Delight, the Golden Hinde, the Swallow, and the Squirrel, sighted Newfoundland about June 30. Here they landed August 3, taking possession of the harbour of St. John’s in the name of Queen Elizabeth. A miner, brought for the purpose of finding precious metals, should such exist in the newly discovered territory, claimed to locate a silver mine, which news was greeted with much enthusiasm by the entire fleet. So many of the crew having become ill, Sir Humphrey found it advisable to send home the Swallow with the sick on board. He then embarked on the Squirrel, of only ten tons, the smallest ship of the fleet.

Sailing out of the harbour of St. John’s on August 20, he reached by the 27th latitude 44° with fair weather. Two days later a gale arose preceded by a dense fog. The Golden Hinde and Delight were beaten in among the rocks and shoals. The Golden Hinde signalled to stand out to sea, but the Delight did not heed this, and was shortly afterward wrecked upon a shoal, where her stern was quickly beaten to pieces. A few of the crew escaped in a boat, but the captain and a hundred men went down with the ship. The heroic Captain Browne, only recently transferred from the Swallow to the Golden Hinde, when urged to save himself, spurned the idea and stood bravely at his post rather than bear the reproach of having deserted his ship, though that ship, himself, and all hands left aboard were doomed to destruction. The small boat into which a few had crowded, drifted about in the midst of the gale, which threatened every instant to swamp them. They were without food and suffered greatly from thirst. Fearing the overcrowded boat would founder unless materially lightened, a man named Headley suggested that lots be drawn; those drawing the four shortest should be thrown overboard. But one of their number, Richard Clarke, who had been master of the Delight, rose in the bow and answered sternly, “No, we will all live or die in company.”

Two more days passed with increased sufferings. They tried to appease the pangs of hunger with seaweed that floated on the surface of the waves, and they drank sea-water. On the fifth day the man Headley died and one other. All but Clarke were praying to God for death, rather than such continued agony. Clarke tried to encourage them by telling them they would surely reach land by the morrow, and if they did not make it by the seventh day, they might throw him overboard. The seventh day came at last, and by noon they sighted land, as Clarke had prophesied; in the afternoon they landed. They gave thanks to God, and after slaking their unbearable thirst with fresh water, the strong ones found some berries growing wild with which to feed the party. In several days they slowly regained their strength.

Later they rowed along the coast, hoping to reach the bay of Newfoundland and met some Spanish whalers who frequented these waters. They satisfied their hunger by eating berries and peas, landing at intervals for the purpose. Before long they fell in with a Spanish ship; the captain took them to St. Jean de Luz in the Bay of Biscay. Landing near the French frontier, they travelled through France and reached England about the end of the year 1583.

The loss of the Delight was a serious blow to Sir Humphrey Gilbert; of the five ships with which he had started only the Golden Hinde and the Squirrel survived. The impenetrable fogs which at this juncture enveloped these ships were most disheartening to the crew, and already the provisions on board the Squirrel were running low. Officers and men besought Sir Humphrey to return, but reluctantly, with no abatement in his enthusiasm for adventure, he only consented to alter his course, upon their promise to embark with him again the following spring. On August 31 they turned their bows toward home.

On the 2d of September, having hurt his foot and wishing it dressed by the surgeon, Sir Humphrey Gilbert boarded the Golden Hinde, and later repeated the visit to take part in an entertainment with the captain and crew. He mentioned the sorrow at the loss of the Delight, and of certain papers and ore that the Saxon miner had procured in Newfoundland. He was advised to remain aboard the Golden Hinde, the Squirrel being so encumbered with heavy artillery and other freight that she was not considered safe to face the storms so likely to occur in mid-ocean at that season of the year. After consideration, Sir Humphrey replied,—

“I will not now desert my little vessel and crew, after we have encountered so many perils and storms together.”

Being supplied from the Hinde with some necessary provisions, Sir Humphrey returned to the Squirrel.

On the 9th of September, in the latitude of England, the overburdened little craft of ten tons showed signs of foundering. Sir Humphrey was seen by the Hinde sitting in the stern of his vessel with a book in his hand and was heard to call out,—

“Courage, my lads! we are as near heaven on sea as on land!”

At midnight she sank with all on board. Thus terminated the first attempt to colonize the inhospitable shores of Newfoundland.

DAVIS

Following closely upon the disastrous voyage of Sir Humphrey Gilbert came the three voyages of Davis between the years 1585 and 1588. He discovered the strait that bears his name, opened a way to Baffin Bay and the Polar Sea, and surveyed a considerable extent of the coast of Greenland.

BARENTZ

Between the years 1594 and 1596, William Barentz made three journeys to the Arctic, losing his life in the disasters and privations of the last voyage. In this third voyage, he made his way to the sea between Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla, where he writes, “We came to so great a heape of ice that we could not sayle through it.” In August, 1596, they were surrounded by drifting ice which crushed around them with such alarming force as to make “all the haire of our heads to rise upright with feare.” They made every effort to extricate themselves from their perilous position, but on the 11th of September “we saw that we could not get out of the ice, but rather became faster, and could not loose our ship, as at other times we had done, as also that it began to be winter, so took counsell together what we were best to doe, according to the time, that we might winter, and attend such adventures as God would send us; and after we had debated upon the matter (to keepe and defend ourselves both from the colde and wild beasts), we determined to build a house upon the land, to keepe us there in as well as wee could, and to commit ourselves unto the tuition of God.”

While searching for material wherewith to build their winter-quarters, they discovered a quantity of driftwood for which they thanked God for a special act of Providence, and “were much comforted, being in good hope that God would show us some further favour; for that wood served us not only to build our house, but also to burne, and serve us all the winter long; otherwise, without all doubt, we had died there miserably with extreme cold.”

In spite of the intense cold which made the building of their hut most laborious, there was open water an “arrow shot” beyond their ship. They dragged their stores on hand sleds, and by October their dwelling, closely thatched with sea rack to keep out as much cold as possible, was completed, and “we setup our dyall and made the clock stride.” On the 4th of November, “wee saw the sunne no more, for it was no longer above the horizon; then our chirurgion made a bath (to bathe us in) of a wine-pipe, wherein wee entered one after another, and it did us much good, and was a great meanes of our health.”

Sir Humphrey Gilbert

Regulations were established, food was apportioned, and extra clothing distributed. Traps were set for foxes and other game, but soon the weather became so rigorous that for days they were snowed in and could not open their door. They were in darkness except for their fire, the smoke of which became almost unendurable. Ice formed two inches thick in their berths, and their misery may be imagined better than described.

On the 7th of December, they managed to secure some coal from their ship, and with it made a good fire which warmed them somewhat, though it nearly asphyxiated them. The cold becoming ever more intense and their supply of wood diminishing, their sufferings are noted repeatedly in their journal.

“It was foule weather again, with an easterly wind and extreame cold, almost not to bee endured, where upon wee lookt pittifully one upon the other, being in great feare, that if the extreamitie of the cold grew to bee more and more, wee should all dye there with cold; for that what fire soever wee made it would not warme us; yea, and our sake, which is so hot, was frozen very hard, so that when we were every man to have his part, we were forced to melt it in the fire, which wee shared every second day about halfe a pint for a man, where with we were forced to sustayne ourselves; and at other times we dranke water, which agreed not well with the cold, and we needed not to coole it with snow or ice; but we were forced to melt it out of the snow.”

They were often awed by the great volumes of sound, “like the bursting asunder of mountains and the dashing them to atoms.” About the middle of January, they were forced, under great difficulties, to secure more wood, and, making another trip to the vessel, they found much ice accumulated within, and returned to their hut with a fox caught in the ship’s cabin, which provided them with fresh meat.

On Twelfth Night they made a heroic effort to make merry. They drew lots for the honour of being king of Nova Zembla, and the gunner was royally installed. Imagining themselves back in Holland, they drank to the three kings of Cologne, soaking biscuit in the wine that for days they had set aside out of their scant store to celebrate this “great feast.” But the intense cold and storms that soon followed excluded every other idea, and for days they were shut in, trying to bring warmth to their frozen bodies with hot stones, but while sitting before the fire, their backs would be white with frost, while their stockings would be burned before they could feel heat to their feet.

Their stock of provisions was becoming exhausted, and although they had seen traces of bears and heard the foxes running over their heads, they could not secure any.

On January 24, Gerard de Veer, Jacob Keemsdirk, and a third companion, upon making their way to the seaside toward the north, saw the sun above the horizon for the first time. Not having expected this event for fourteen days later, Barentz was doubtful of their accuracy. On the 26th, one of their number who had long been ill died, and they dug a grave seven feet in the snow, “after that we had read certaine chapters and sung some psalmes, we all went out and buried the man.”

As daylight increased, they left their hut for short periods of exercise.

By May their impatience to leave this desolate spot prompted them to make preparations for departure, and without waiting to see if their ship would be navigable when once released from the ice, they repaired their two boats and awaited the first opportunity “to get out of that wilde, desart, irkesome, fearfull, and cold countrey.”

On the 13th of June, the twelve survivors left the miserable shelter that had been their home for ten months, and took to the open boats. Their sufferings and privations cannot be described; three of their number succumbed, and Barentz himself became too ill for service.

Davis’s Ships, the “Sunshine” and the “Moonshine”

As they passed Icy Cape, a headland of Alaska, latitude 70° 20´ N., longitude 161° 46´ W., Barentz asked to be lifted up to see it once more, and the dying man’s eyes rested with pleasure upon its cheerless coast.

On the twentieth day of June, Barentz was told that a man in the other boat named Claes Andriz was near death. He remarked he would not long survive his comrade. He was examining at the moment a chart of the countries and objects they had seen on their voyage. He turned to Gerard de Veer, who had made this chart, and asked him for something to drink. Hardly had he swallowed the liquid when he suddenly expired. Saddened and disheartened, the remnant of this unfortunate expedition struggled on until September, when they reached the coast of Lapland.

After a voyage of eleven hundred and forty-three miles, these heroes of the north left their boats in the “Merchant’s house” at Coola as “a sign and token of their deliverance.” A Dutch ship carried them to Holland, where they appeared before the curious crowds of Amsterdam in the costume they had worn in Nova Zembla. They were honoured by their countrymen and made to repeat their wonderful adventures before the ministers of the Hague.

To the early maps of the period at the close of the sixteenth century, Newfoundland and adjacent coast line had been added by the Cabots, who had reached as far as 67° north latitude, Frobisher Strait, an outline of the lands that he had visited, Davis Strait, and a portion of Greenland’s east coast. But, more important than the discovery of new territory was the stimulus to Arctic enterprise, which through Richard Chancellor had established valuable trading activities between England and far-distant Russia. The journeys of the Cotereals had opened a way to Spanish and Portuguese fisheries off the banks of Newfoundland, and Frobisher’s supposed discovery of gold in distant lands had given zest to discovery in the New World by the English, exemplified by Sir Humphrey Gilbert’s daring but unsuccessful attempt to colonize Newfoundland.

CHAPTER II

Seventeenth and eighteenth centuries: Hudson.—Baffin.—Deshneff.—Behring.—Schalaroff.—Tchitschagof.—Anjou and Von Wrangell.—Phipps.

HUDSON

No century has produced a more daring or renowned mariner than Henry Hudson, or one whose melancholy fate has provoked more pity. Down through the decades the story of his adventures has been told and retold at the fireside of the old to the eager ears and quickening imagination of the young.

Talented, indefatigable, fearless, his achievements, in the infancy of Arctic exploration, handicapped by the lack of all that invention and science has secured to modern explorers, place him in the first rank, with the greatest navigators the world has known. As early as 1607 he had distinguished himself by pushing as far north as latitude 81½°, in his effort to follow the instructions of the Muscovy Company to penetrate to the Pole. Attempting the Northeast Passage in 1608, he saw North Cape on the 3d of June; pushing to the eastward on parallels 74° and 75°, he skirted Nova Zembla, but found it impossible to penetrate higher than 72° 25´.

The next year the Dutch sent him to try this passage again, though the previous voyage had convinced him that the Northeast Passage was impractical.

He passed Warhuys, returning past North Cape, pushing his way to the American coast, where he searched for a passage, and, sailing into New York harbour, discovered the magnificent river which bears his name. This splendid achievement only stirred his ambitions further, and under the patronage of Sir John Wolstenholme, Sir Dudley Digges, and other distinguished men, a vessel of fifty-five tons was fitted out and provisioned for six months.

Under the command of Hudson, the Discovery set sail April 17, 1610. Touching at Orkney and Faro islands, they sighted the southeastern part of Iceland, May 11. Later they reached the Vestmanna Isles, and saw Mount Hecla in eruption. On June 4, Hudson writes, “This day, we saw Greenland perfectly over the ice; and this night the sun went down due north, and rose north-north-east, so plying the fifth day we were in 65°.”

Taking their course northwest, they passed Cape Desolation. A school of whales was sighted at this juncture, and later icebergs were encountered. In June they saw Resolution Island; going to the south of this island, they were carried by the current northwest, until they struck shore ice, from which it was most difficult to extricate themselves.

At this time a growing discontent among the men first appeared on board; some were for returning before the perils of the journey should become greater, others were for continuing. Hudson showed them a chart showing that they had sailed two hundred leagues farther than any Englishmen had sailed before. The situation of the ship, at times embedded in ice, at others pushing her way through leads of open water, was critical and discouraging, but Henry Hudson continued his intricate navigation, finally being rewarded by finding himself in a clear, open sea. Sighting three headlands, he called them Prince Henry Cape, King James, and Queen Anne, and, continuing, he saw a hill which he called Mount Charles, and later sighted Cape Salisbury. While exploring the south shore, he discovered an island, one point of which he named Deepe Cape, the other, Wolstenholme. He entered a bay, which, from the date, he called Michaelmas Bay.

The season was advancing; already the days were very short and the nights long and cold. Realizing it was time to find shelter for the winter, he cast about to discover a suitable location. By the first of November he had the vessel hauled aground, and ten days later it was frozen in. The stock of provisions was very low, but the men supplemented it by killing or trapping anything that was serviceable for food, and after game left them in the spring, they lived on such birds as they could secure; when these, too, migrated, they ate moss, frogs, and buds.

With the breaking up of the ice in the spring, preparations were made for returning home.

In Hudson’s own bay, in the cold embrace of the shores he had explored, Henry Hudson divided the last remnants of food equally among his men. They were a famished, despairing crew, maddened with suffering. The cry for bread was in their vitals, and there was no bread. Hunger and misery made their brains reel, robbed them of their godliness, and reduced them to wild animals at bay. It took but the encouragement of one of their number, Green by name, to incite them to mutiny.

The Death of Henry Hudson

From the painting by Collier

On June 21, “The ship’s company, both sick and well, were in berths, dispersed generally two and two about the ship. King, one of the crew who was supposed to be friendly to Hudson, was up, and in the morning they secured him in the hold by fastening down the hatches. Green then went and held the carpenter in conversation to amuse him, while two of the crew, keeping just before Hudson, and one, named Wilson, behind him, bound his hands. He asked what they were about, and they told him he should know when he was in the shallop. Another mutineer, Juet, went down to King in the hold, who kept him at bay, being armed with his sword. He came upon deck to Hudson, whom he found with his hands tied. Hudson was heard to call to the carpenter, and tell him he was bound. Two of the devoted party, who were sick, told the mutineers their knavery would be punished. They paid no attention; the shallop was hauled up to the side of the vessel, and the sick and lame were made to get into it. The carpenter, whom they had agreed to retain in the vessel, asked them if they would not be hanged when they reached England, and boldly refused to remain with them, preferring to share the fate of Hudson and the sick men.”

The crew then set sail, and the boat in which were Hudson and his companions was never seen again. After many hardships and vicissitudes and much loss of life through the onslaught of the natives, where they landed to secure food, a remnant of the unfortunate crew found their way past the Cape of God’s Mercies and thence to Cape Desolation in Greenland. Pursuing their homeward course, they were reduced to the last extremities by hunger, one-half a fowl fried in tallow per man being their only sustenance each twenty-four hours.

Just before their last bird was devoured, they sighted the north of Ireland, where they landed, and later made their way to Plymouth.

BAFFIN

Following the example of Hudson, and with the purpose of further discovery, Baffin set sail in 1616 and explored the vast bay eight hundred miles long and three hundred miles wide that bears his name. He saw Lancaster Sound and brought home observations and reports of latitude and longitude, the accuracy of which was doubted for many years, but has since been verified and accredited to him.

Equally tragic with the fate of Henry Hudson was the last voyage of that great Russian commander, Behring, whose life was one long record of heroic achievement. He had seen many parts of the world while serving under Peter the Great, by whom he was given the commission of lieutenant in 1707, and captain-lieutenant in 1710. In a previous voyage he had explored the straits which bear his name. These straits had been navigated nearly a century before by Deshneff, one of the early Russian explorers who made several voyages between 1646 and 1648. His great object was to round to the mouth of the Anadry River, and there form a traders’ settlement. Deshneff and his companions were the first navigators to sail from the Arctic Sea to the Pacific, and proved, at a much earlier period than is generally supposed, that the continents of America and Asia are not united.

Behring set sail June 4, 1741, with two vessels from Kamtschatka in the harbour of St. Peter and St. Paul. Steering eastward toward the American continent, he sighted land the 18th of July, in latitude 58° 28´ and 50° longitude, from Anatsda. Captain Tschirikov, who commanded this second boat, had seen the land a few days previously and, having determined to send some men ashore for investigation, the shallop and long-boat were manned with seventeen of the crew for this purpose. They never returned to the ship. Such a grave disaster determined Behring to send this vessel back to Kamtschatka.

He proceeded on his voyage alone, hoping to reach as high latitude as 60°, but progress was slow, owing to the varied coast-line and the labyrinth of islands which border this vicinity. They fell in with a few natives, who had been on a fishing expedition, with whom they held some friendly intercourse. Progress continued to be retarded by calms and currents, and finally dirty weather set in early in September and raged in a violent storm for seventeen days.

BEHRING

The scurvy now attacked the crew, and numerous deaths occurred. Behring determined to return to Kamtschatka. Through an unfortunate blunder, they erred in their course, and land remained invisible. The approach of winter became alarming, the cold increased, and rain turned to ice and snow. The unfortunate crew were in a pitiable condition from the miserable disease that laid hold of them. The steersman had to be supported at the wheel by two other sick men that he might continue at his post of duty. Finally he was disabled, and men hardly more fit took his place one by one. Almost daily some one died, and the ship, no longer with enough hands to man her, was at the mercy of the elements. The nights became long and dark, the water supply was running low, and certain destruction and death awaited the remnant of human beings left on board, unless a harbour of refuge could be found.

At last one morning land was sighted. The approach was difficult, the ship so crippled as to be almost unmanageable, and the rocks threatened instant destruction. Darkness came on before they could make a landing. In their attempt to anchor, two cables parted, and the anchors were lost; they had no third anchor in readiness.

At this juncture it seemed as if the hand of Providence intervened, for a huge wave lifted them across a sand bar, between a narrow opening of high rocks, and they found themselves in calm water, where the next day they made a successful landing. The land proved a barren and treeless island, fortunately well supplied with game, but there was no hut or shelter of any kind, showing it to be uninhabited. Such of the crew as were able made shelters under projecting sand-banks, using sail-cloth to keep out the wind and cold, and there they brought their sick and dying comrades. But the shock to some of the sickest proved fatal, and, before their dead bodies could be interred, foxes attacked and devoured portions of the hands and feet.

A special shelter was made for the brave old captain, now reduced to the last extremities of disease, his body emaciated, his mind enfeebled. He was moved November 9, and there he lay dying, passing the weary hours in the vagaries of delirium, by covering his shrunken form with sand, making his own grave, as it were, until, on December 8, 1741, he passed away. There he rests, Behring Island his sepulchre, and his name is upon every map of the world, showing the straits dividing North America and Asia, through which he sailed in the glory of his prime.

The command was now under Waxall, who rallied his men to superhuman effort, that they might pass the weary winter and attempt making their escape in the spring. A frightful blow to their hopes was the wrecking of their vessel and a loss of valuable food supplies, which took place the 29th of December.

By March, 1742, the forty-five survivors (thirty of their number having perished) were confronted by the problem of how to make their escape when the ice should permit. Their boat was a total wreck, and their only hope lay in constructing from the débris a craft that would be sufficiently trustworthy to carry them to civilization. At Waxall’s suggestion, they took the old vessel to pieces, and one Sawa Slaradoubzov, a native of Siberia, who had worked in the shipyard at Okhotsk, offered to construct the new craft.

Early in May the ship was started. It was forty feet long and thirteen broad, one masted, a small cabin in the poop and a galley in the fore part of the vessel. A second small boat was also made.

On the 10th of August it was launched and christened the St. Peter. During a few days’ calm that followed, the rudder, sails, and ballast were adjusted. Provisions and such furs as they had collected were put aboard, and they set sail on the 16th. Although Slaradoubzov had never been a carpenter, his craft proved seaworthy and breasted a gale in fine shape.

They sighted Kamtschatka, August 25, entered the Bay of Awatska the next day, and made port at Petropalovski, August 27. It is pleasant to note that the Russian government conferred the lowest rank of nobility upon Sawa Slaradoubzov, that of Sinboiarskoy.

The Russians have been untiring in their endeavour to discover a passage eastward to the north of Cape Tainmer and Cape Chelagskoi. In 1760, Schalaroff attempted to force the passage that had proved so disastrous to Behring; in spite of mutiny and hardship, he renewed his attempt three times, but was finally wrecked about seventy miles east of Cape Chelagskoi, where he and his crew perished miserably from starvation.

Admiral Tchitschagof endeavoured to force a passage round Spitzbergen in the year 1764, but in spite of courage and perseverance, his expedition was unsuccessful. Later Captain Billings in 1787 made two attempts, both of which were unsuccessful.

ANJOU AND VON WRANGELL

Many years later, 1820 to 1823, Lieutenant Anjou and Admiral Von Wrangell made a series of remarkable sledge journeys starting from the mouth of the Kolyma River. On the fourth journey, March, 1823, Von Wrangell reached latitude 70° 51´, longitude 175° 27´ W., one hundred and five versts in a direct line from the mainland over a frozen sea. Several times the party came near losing their lives by breaking through the ice. After reaching this high latitude and recognizing signs of open water to the north, Von Wrangell writes:—

“Notwithstanding this sure token of the impossibility of proceeding much further, we continued to go due north for about nine versts, when we arrived at the edge of an immense break in the ice, extending east and west further than the eye could reach, and which at the narrowest part was more than a hundred fathoms across.... We climbed one of the loftiest ice hills, where we obtained an extensive view towards the north, and whence we beheld the wide, immeasurable ocean spread before our gaze. It was a fearful and magnificent, but to us a melancholy, spectacle. Fragments of ice of enormous size floated on the surface of the agitated ocean, and were thrown by the waves with awful violence against the edge of the ice-field on the further side of the channel before us. The collisions were so tremendous, that large masses were every instant broken away, and it was evident that the portion of ice which still divided the channel from the open ocean would soon be completely destroyed. Had we attempted to have ferried ourselves across upon one of the floating pieces of ice, we should not have found firm footing upon our arrival. Even on our side, fresh lanes of water were continually forming, and extending in every direction in the field of ice behind us. With a painful feeling of the impossibility of overcoming the obstacles which Nature opposed to us, our last hope vanished of discovering the land which we yet believed to exist.”

Of the difficulties that confronted them upon their return, Admiral Von Wrangell writes:—

“We had hardly proceeded one verst when we found ourselves in a fresh labyrinth of lanes of water, which hemmed us in on every side. As all the floating pieces around us were smaller than the one on which we stood, which was seventy-five fathoms across, and as we saw many certain indications of an approaching storm, I thought it better to remain on the larger mass, which offered us somewhat more security, and thus we waited quietly whatever Providence should decree. Dark clouds now rose from the west, and the whole atmosphere became filled with a damp vapor. A strong breeze suddenly sprang up from the west, and increased in less than half an hour to a storm. Every moment huge masses of ice around us were dashed against each other, and broken into a thousand fragments. Our little party remained fast on our ice island, which was tossed to and fro by the waves. We gazed in most painful inactivity on the wild conflict of the elements, expecting every moment to be swallowed up. We had been three long hours in this position, and still the mass of ice beneath us held together, when suddenly it was caught by the storm, and hurled against a large field of ice. The crash was terrific, and the mass beneath us was shattered into fragments. At that dreadful moment, when escape seemed impossible, the impulse of self-preservation implanted in every living being saved us. Instinctively we all sprang at once on the sledges, and urged the dogs to their full speed. They flew across the yielding fragments to the field on which we had been stranded, and safely reached a part of it of firmer character, on which were several hummocks, and where the dogs immediately ceased running, conscious, apparently, that the danger was past. We were saved: we joyfully embraced each other, and united in thanks to God for our preservation from such imminent peril.”

PHIPPS

The primary object of the Phipps expedition sent out by the Royal Society of England, under the solicitation of the government and all scientific men of the time, was to reach the Magnetic Pole and solve, if possible, the causes of the variation of the compass and other scientific problems. With two vessels, the Racehorse and the Carcase, Captain Phipps set out in 1773 and skirted the eastern shore of Spitzbergen to 80° 48´ north latitude. Here he was beset with ice and could proceed no farther. Accompanying this expedition was young Nelson, later the hero of Trafalgar. An anecdote of Nelson showing his courage and daring on this trip is told as follows:—

“While out in small boats one of the officers had wounded a walrus.... The wounded animal dived immediately, and brought up a number of its companions; and they joined in an attack on the boat. They wrested an oar from one of the men, and it was with the utmost difficulty that the crew could prevent them from staving or upsetting her, till Nelson came up; and the walruses, finding their enemies thus reënforced, dispersed. Young Nelson exposed himself in a most daring manner.”

The unfortunate situation of his vessels forced Phipps to retrace his course and return to England.

Under instructions to attempt the passage of Ice Sea, from Behring Strait to Baffin Bay, the ill-fated Cook sailed in 1776, but failed to sail beyond Icy Cape, where he found impenetrable ice; however, he reached as far as North Cape on the coast of Asia.

Mackenzie, the last of the eighteenth-century explorers, left Fort Chipewyan, and descended the Mackenzie River, a much larger stream than the Coppermine previously discovered by Hearne. He followed the course of the river until he reached an island “where the tide rose and fell,” but there is no certainty that he reached the ocean. The land expeditions were for geographical discovery and not for the discovery of the Northwest Passage, that had occupied mariners for so many years.

Peter Feodorovitsch Anjou

Ferdinand von Wrangell

From “The Voyage of the Vega,” Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London

CHAPTER III

Early nineteenth century: Ross and Parry, May 3, 1818.—Object of voyage, search for Northwest Passage through Davis Strait and explore bays and channels described by Baffin.—Met natives near Melville Bay.—The discovery by Ross of the famous Crimson Cliffs.—Enters Lancaster Sound.—Advance barred by imaginary Crocker Mountains.—Return of expedition to England.—Buchan and Franklin North Polar expedition via Greenland and Spitzbergen.—Dorothea and Trent in Magdalena Bay, June 3, 1818.—Reached high latitude of 80° 37´ N.—Course directed to east coast of Greenland.—Disastrous battle with the ice.—Dorothea disabled.—Hasty return to England.

As a result of the many disastrous voyages to the Arctic, there was a long period of inactivity in polar research, which continued for the first sixteen years of the nineteenth century. Interest was revived, however, by the astounding report that ice which had cut off the Danish colonies from communication with their native country for centuries, had suddenly become free, and that certain Greenland whalers had sailed to the seventieth and eightieth parallel.

ROSS AND PARRY

The British Admiralty in conjunction with the Council of the Royal Society decided to fit out two expeditions: One under Captain John Ross and Lieutenant Edward Parry, whose object was to force a northwest passage through Davis Strait and to explore the bays and channels described by Baffin at the head of the immense bay that bears his name. The second expedition under Buchan and Franklin was to direct its course by way of Greenland and Spitzbergen in search of the Pole, and make its way through Behring Strait out to the Pacific.

The four ships were the best equipped for Arctic research that had ever been sent out from England, and the commanders were instructed to collect all possible information that would promote scientific knowledge in natural history, geology, meteorology, and astronomy as to the special phenomena existing in high northern latitudes.

On the 3d of May, 1818, the two expeditions parted company in Brassa Sound, Shetland, and sailed for their respective destinations. The Isabella and Alexander, under the command of Ross and Parry, reached Wygat Sound on the 17th of June, where they were detained by the ice in company with forty-five whalers, until the 20th. They made observations from the shore of Wygat Island, which they found to be misplaced on the maps by no less than five degrees.

By warping and towing they made slow progress, narrowly missing destruction by the pressure of huge ice-floes, but finally making the open water. High mountains were descried on the north side of this bay called by Ross, Melville Bay, the precipices varying in height from one thousand to two thousand feet.

An Eskimo, John Sacheuse, who acted as interpreter to the expedition, went ashore and brought back with him a dozen or more natives, who were much entertained by the hospitality provided for them by the ship’s company. After partaking of tea and biscuits, a dance was held on the deck, and of this Captain Ross gives an amusing description:—

“Sacheuse’s mirth and joy exceeded all bounds: and with a good-humored officiousness, justified by the important distinction which his superior knowledge now gave him, he performed the office of master of ceremonies. An Eskimo M.C. to a ball on the deck of one of H. M. Ships in the icy seas of Greenland, was an office somewhat new, but Nash himself could not have performed his functions in a manner more appropriate. It did not belong even to Nash to combine in his own person, like Jack, the discordant qualifications of seaman, interpreter, draughtsman, and master of ceremonies to a ball, with those of an active fisher of seals and a hunter of white bears. A daughter of the Danish resident, (by an Eskimo woman,) about eighteen years of age, and by far the best looking of the half-caste group, was the object of Jack’s particular attentions; which being observed by one of our officers, he gave him a lady’s shawl, ornamented with spangles, as an offering for her acceptance. He presented it in a most respectful and not ungraceful manner to the damsel, who bashfully took a pewter ring from her finger and gave it to him in return, rewarding him, at the same time, with an eloquent smile, which could leave no doubt on our Eskimo’s mind that he had made an impression on her heart.”

Near Cape Dudley Digges a curious condition of the ice was noted by Captain Ross as follows:—

“We have discovered that the snow on the face of the cliffs presents an appearance both novel and interesting, being apparently stained or covered by some substance which gave it a deep crimson color. This snow was penetrated in many places to a depth of ten or twelve feet by the coloring matter.”

Passing Smith and Jones Sound, Ross reached the entrance of Lancaster Sound by the last of August. “On the 31st,” he writes, “we discovered, for the first time, that the land extended from the south two-thirds across this apparent Strait, obscured its real figure. During the day much interest was excited on board by the appearance of the Strait. The general opinion, however, was that it was only an inlet. The land was partially seen extending across; the yellow sky was perceptible. At a little before four o’clock A.M., the land was seen at the bottom of the inlet by the officers of the watch, but before I got on deck a space of about seven degrees of the compass was obscured by the fog. The land which I then saw was a high ridge of mountains extending directly across the bottom of the inlet. This chain appeared extremely high in the centre. Although a passage in this direction appeared hopeless, I determined to explore it completely. I therefore continued all sail. Mr. Beverly, the surgeon, who was the most sanguine, went up to the crow’s nest, and at twelve reported to me that before it became thick he had seen the land across the bay, except for a very short space. At three, I went on deck; it completely cleared for ten minutes, when I distinctly saw land around the bottom of the bay, forming a chain of mountains connected with those which extended along the north and south side. This land appeared to be at the distance of eight leagues, and Mr. Lewis, the master, and James Haig, leading man, being sent for, they took its bearings, which were inserted in the log. At this moment I also saw a continuity of ice at the distance of seven miles, extending from one side of the bay to the other, between the nearest cape to the north, which I named after Sir George Warrenden, and that to the south, which was named after Viscount Castlereagh. The mountains, which occupied the centre, in a north and south direction, were named Crocker’s Mountains, after the Secretary to the Admiralty.”

The much-disputed “Crocker Mountains” brought the navigator ridicule and discredit upon his return to England. The return was decided upon on October 1, that date being the limit to which his instructions permitted Captain Ross to remain in northern latitudes.

Captain John Ross, R.N.

Although the extraordinary blunder cost Captain Ross reputation and the confidence of his friends, he had nevertheless rendered valuable addition to Arctic knowledge; his scientific observations had been unremitting and accurate. He had mapped the west coast of Davis Strait, had advanced through Baffin Bay, thereby proving the claims of that famous old mariner, and had been the first to meet the Eskimos of the far north, who were to render such valuable assistance to future explorers.

The progress of the Dorothea and the Trent under the respective commands of Captain David Buchan and Lieutenant-Commander John Franklin (later Sir John Franklin) was delayed by fog and storm until they sighted Cherie Island, latitude 74° 33´ N., and longitude 17° 40´ E., famous for its herds of walruses from which the Muscovy Company had derived much profit by sending ships to the island for oil, the crew capturing as many as a thousand animals in the course of six or seven hours.

The ships now encountered small floes and huge masses of ice, which augmented the difficulties of progress, and this Lieutenant Beechey, the clever artist and interesting narrator of the voyage, describes as follows:—

“There was, besides, on the occasion an additional motive for remaining up; very few of us had ever seen the sun at midnight, and this night happening to be particularly distorted by refraction, and sweeping majestically along the northern horizon, it was the object of imposing grandeur, which riveted to the deck some of our crew, who would perhaps have beheld with indifference the less imposing effect of the icebergs; or it might have been a combination of both these phenomena; for it cannot be denied that the novelty occasioned by the floating masses was materially heightened by the singular effect produced by the very low altitude at which the sun cast his fiery beams over the icy surface of the sea.

“The rays were too oblique to illuminate more than the inequalities of the floes, and falling thus partially on the grotesque shapes, either really assumed by the ice or distorted by the unequal refraction of the atmosphere, so betrayed the imagination that it required no great exertion of fancy to trace in various directions architectural edifices, grottos, and caves here and there glittering as if with precious metals. So generally, indeed, was the deception admitted, that, in directing the route of the vessel from aloft, we for a while deviated from our nautical phraseology, and shaped our course for a church, a tower, a bridge, or some similar structure, instead of for humps of ice, which were usually designated by less elegant appellations.

“After sighting the southern promontory of Spitzbergen, the two ships were parted in a severe gale. The snow fell in heavy showers, and several tons’ weight of ice accumulated about the sides of the brig (the Trent) and formed a complete casing to the planks, which secured an additional layer at each plunge of the vessel. So great, indeed, was the accumulation about the bows, that we were obliged to cut it away repeatedly with axes to relieve the bow-sprit from the enormous weight that was attached to it, and the ropes were so thickly covered with ice, that it was necessary to beat them with large sticks to keep them in a state of readiness for any evolution that might be rendered necessary, either by the appearance of ice, to leeward or by a change of wind.”

By the 3d of June the ships were reunited in Magdalena Bay. Surrounding this harbour of refuge are high mountains rising precipitously about three thousand feet high, the deep valleys filled with immense beds of snow. The temperature is particularly mild on the western coast of Spitzbergen, and in consequence there is a luxury of Alpine plants, grasses, and lichens, also of animal life, reindeer, and flocks of birds, such as the auk, willock, gulls, cormorants, also walruses and seals.

There are numerous glaciers from which huge pieces would occasionally break away. Mr. Beechey describes in a most interesting way the fall of one of these extraordinary masses of ice:—

BUCHAN AND FRANKLIN

“The first was occasioned by the discharge of a musket at about half a mile’s distance from the glacier. Immediately after the report of the gun, a noise resembling thunder was heard in the direction of the iceberg (glacier) and in a few seconds more an immense piece broke away, and fell headlong into the sea. The crew of the launch, supposing themselves beyond the reach of its influence, quietly looked upon the scene, when presently a sea arose and rolled toward the shore with such rapidity, that the crew had not time to take any precautions, and the boat was in consequence washed upon the beach, and completely filled by the succeeding wave. As soon as their astonishment had subsided, they examined the boat, and found her so badly stove that it became necessary to repair her in order to return to the ship. They had also the curiosity to measure the distance the boat had been carried by the wave, and found it to be ninety-six feet.”

Describing a second avalanche he writes:—

“This occurred on a remarkably fine day, when the quietness of the bay was first interrupted by the noise of the falling body. Lieutenant Franklin and myself had approached one of these stupendous walls of ice, and were endeavoring to search into the innermost recess of a deep cavern that was near the foot of the glacier, when we heard a report as if of a cannon, and, turning to the quarter whence it proceeded, we perceived an immense piece of the front of the berg sliding down from the height of two hundred feet at least into the sea, and dispersing the water in every direction, accompanied by a loud, grinding noise, and followed by a quantity of water which being previously lodged in the fissures now made its escape in numberless small cataracts over the front of the glacier.”

So great was the disturbance of the waters by this great falling mass that the Dorothea was seen to be careening at a distance of four miles. After it became somewhat settled, they approached it and found it to be nearly a quarter of a mile in circumference. “Knowing its specific gravity and making fair allowance for its inequalities, its weight was computed at 421,660 tons.”

The ships left Magdalena Bay, June 7, and made their slow way through brash ice which became thicker and more impenetrable until a fortunate breeze dispersed it. Sailing in a westerly direction, they encountered several whale-ships, which reported others beset by the ice in that direction. Captain Buchan changed his course and stood to the northward, passing Cloven Cliff, an isolated rock, marking the northwestern boundary of Spitzbergen. Near Red Bay they were stopped by the ice, and the channel by which the vessels had entered became entirely closed. The ships were here hemmed in, in almost the same position where Baffin, Hudson, Poole, Captain Phipps, and all the early voyagers to this quarter had been stopped. Of their perilous situation, Lieutenant Beechey writes:—

“The ice soon began to press heavily upon us, and, to add to our difficulties, we found the water so shallow that the rocks were plainly discovered under the bottoms of the ships. It was impossible, however, by any exertion on our part, to improve the situation of the vessels. They were as firmly fixed in the ice as if they had formed part of the pack, and we could only hope that the current would not drift them into still shallower water, and damage them against the ground.”

It was now found necessary to attach the ships to floes by ice-anchors, which was done with considerable exertion.

Taking advantage of a break in the ice, they reached Vogel Sang about June 28, where the crew were fortunate enough to secure forty reindeer and plenty of eider-ducks.

On the 6th of July, Captain Buchan, finding the ice conditions favourable, determined to make as far an advance to the north as possible. By most arduous labours in warping and tracking, etc., he attained a latitude of 80° 34´ N., but, though attached to floes, he found himself being carried to the southward by the current. On the 15th and 16th of July, both ships suffered considerable ice pressure. The nine days following, the crew worked night and day to free the ships and get into open water.

Having given the ice a fair trial and proved it unnavigable, Buchan turned his attention toward the eastern coast of Greenland, intending, if it proved impenetrable there, to round the south cape of Spitzbergen and attempt to make an advance between that island and Nova Zembla. A terrific gale struck them the 30th of July, which brought down the ice upon them and threatened their immediate destruction. Of this encounter Lieutenant Beechey gives a most vivid description:—

“In order to avert the effects of this as much as possible, a cable was cut up into thirty feet lengths, and these, with plates of iron four feet square, which had been supplied to us as fenders, together with some walrus hides, were hung round the vessels, especially about the bows. The masts, at the same time, were secured with additional ropes, and the hatches were battened and nailed down. By the time these precautions had been taken, our approach to the breakers only left us the alternative of either permitting the ships to be drifted broadside against the ice, and so to take their chance, or of endeavoring to force fairly into it by putting before the wind. At length, the hopeless state of a vessel placed broadside against so formidable a body became apparent to all, and we resolved to attempt the latter expedient.”

Beechey, in describing the appalling scene, continues:—

“No language, I am convinced, can convey an adequate idea of the terrific grandeur of the effect now produced by the collision of the ice and the tempestuous ocean. The sea, violently agitated and rolling its mountainous waves against an opposing body, is at all times a sublime and awful sight; but when, in addition, it encounters immense masses, which it has set in motion with a violence equal to its own, its effect is prodigiously increased. At one moment it bursts upon these icy fragments and buries them many feet beneath its wave, and the next, as the buoyancy of the depressed body struggles for reascendancy, the water rushes in foaming cataracts over the edges, while every individual mass, rocking and laboring in its bed, grinds against and contends with its opponent, until one is either split with the shock or upheaved upon the surface of the other. Nor is this collision confined to any particular spot; it is going on as far as the sight can reach; and when from this convulsive scene below, the eye is turned to the extraordinary appearance of the blink in the sky above, where the unnatural clearness of a calm and silvery atmosphere presents itself, bounded by a dark, hard line of stormy clouds, such as this moment lowered over our masts, as if to mark the confines within which the efforts of man would be of no avail, the reader may imagine the sensation of awe which must accompany that of grandeur in the mind of the beholder.” And he continues: “If ever that fortitude of seamen was fairly tried, it was assuredly not less so on this occasion; and I will not conceal the pride I felt in witnessing the bold and decisive tone in which the orders were issued by the commander (the present Captain Sir John Franklin) of our little vessel, and the promptitude and steadiness with which they were executed by the crew.”

As the vessel rapidly approached the dangerous wall of ice, each person instinctively secured his own hold, and, with his eyes fixed upon the masts, awaited in breathless anxiety the moment of concussion. “It soon arrived; the brig (Trent), cutting her way through the light ice, came in violent contact with the main body. In an instant we all lost our footing; the masts bent with the impetus, and the cracking timbers from below bespoke a pressure which was calculated to awaken our serious apprehensions. The vessel staggered under the shock, and for a moment seemed to recoil; but the next wave, curling up under her counter, drove her about her own length within the margin of the ice, where she gave one roll, and was immediately thrown broadside to the wind by the succeeding wave, which beat furiously against her stern, and brought her lee side in contact with the main body, leaving her weather side exposed at the same time to a piece of ice about twice her own dimensions. This unfortunate occurrence prevented the vessel penetrating sufficiently far into the ice to escape the effect of the gale, and placed her in a situation where she was assailed on all sides by battering-rams, if I may use the expression, every one of which contested the small space which she occupied, and dealt such unrelenting blows, that there appeared to be scarcely any possibility of saving her from foundering. Literally tossed from piece to piece, we had nothing left but patiently abide the issue; for we could scarcely keep our feet, much less render any assistance to the vessel. The motion, indeed, was so great, that the ship’s bell, which, in the heaviest gale of wind, had never struck of itself, now tolled so continually, that it was ordered to be muffled, for the purpose of escaping the unpleasant association it was calculated to produce.

“In anticipation of the worst, we determined to attempt placing the launch upon the ice under the lee, and hurried into her such provisions and stores as could at the moment be got at. Serious doubts were reasonably entertained of the boat being able to live among the confused mass by which we were encompassed; yet as this appeared to be our only refuge, we clung to it with all the eagerness of a last resource.”

It was only too evident that she could not long survive the critical position in which she was placed and that the only salvation lay in penetrating still farther into the ice. To this end, more sail was spread, and, with the added power, she righted herself, split a small field of ice, fourteen feet in thickness, and effected a passage for herself between the pieces. On the gale abating, both ships reached the open sea, but were greatly disabled, the Dorothea in a foundering condition. In this useless state they made for Fair Haven, in Spitzbergen, where they underwent necessary repairs. Lieutenant Franklin urgently requested to be allowed to return to the interesting quest which they had been obliged to abandon, but this being impossible, owing to the shattered condition of the ships, the expedition put to sea the end of August and reached England about the middle of October, 1818.

CHAPTER IV

1819-1827: Parry’s first voyage.—Object, to survey Lancaster Sound and prove the non-existence of Crocker Mountains.—Discovery of new lands.—Parry Islands.—Attains longitude 110° W., thereby winning the bounty of five thousand pounds offered by Parliament.—Winters near Melville Island.—Second voyage.—Ships Hecla and Fury.—Examines Duke of York Bay and Frozen Strait of Middleton.—Winters off Lyon Inlet.—Sledge journeys.—Object, to make Northwest Passage via Prince Regent Inlet.—Reached Port Bowen.—Ten months’ imprisonment.—Destruction of the Fury.—Hasty return to England. Fourth voyage.—Purpose to reach the Pole via Spitzbergen with sledge boats over ice.—Hecla as transport.—Parry’s farthest, 82° 45´ N., reached June 23, 1827.

PARRY’S FIRST VOYAGE

The principal object of Lieutenant W. E. Parry’s first voyage under the direction of the British Admiralty was to pursue the survey of Lancaster Sound, so abruptly discontinued by Captain Ross the previous year, and decide the probability of a northwest passage in that direction, thus settling the much-disputed question of the existence of the “Crocker Mountains,” which Parry, who had accompanied Ross, declared from the first to have been an ocular illusion. Should Lancaster Sound not prove navigable, Smith and Jones sounds were to be explored.

The Hecla, 375 tons, and the Griper, 180 tons, were strengthened and provisioned for two years. Sailing from the Thames May 11, 1819, they reached Davis Strait the last week in June, and here experienced a good deal of annoyance from ice, through which they made a slow and difficult passage by heaving and warping, reaching Possession Bay a month later. Upon landing the men were not a little surprised to see their own footprints of the previous year; a fox, a raven, some ring flowers, and snow-buntings were seen, also a bee. Tufts and ground plants grew in considerable abundance wherever there was moisture.

Proceeding on their voyage, they reached, by August 4, longitude 86° 56´ W., three degrees to the westward of where land had been laid down by Captain Ross. Passing through Barrow Strait, they found ice to such an extent north of Leopold Island that Parry determined to shape his course to the southward and explore the beautiful sheet of water to which he gave the name of Regent Inlet.

The compass now became useless, owing to the local attraction, and the binnacles were discarded. Having penetrated one hundred and twenty miles and having given the farthest point of land the name of Cape Kater, it was found necessary to return to the southward or be caught in the ice. Skirting the north shore of Barrow Strait, they later passed two large openings, to the first of which Parry gave the name of Wellington Channel, also naming various capes and inlets, as he passed them, Batham, Barlow, Cornwallis, Bowen, Byam Martin, Griffith, Lowther, Bathurst, and others.

Navigation now became extremely difficult, owing to thick fogs, but notwithstanding many obstacles they reached the coast of an island larger than any yet discovered, which they called Melville Island, and by the 4th of September Lieutenant Parry was able to make the joyful announcement to his crew that, having passed longitude 110° W., they were entitled to the reward of five thousand pounds promised by Parliament to the first ship’s company which should reach that meridian.

To celebrate their success, they gave the name of Cape Bounty to the farthest neck of land sighted in the distance. Every effort was now made to push forward in the hope of reaching longitude 130° W., thereby securing the second reward held out by the government. They had progressed but a short distance when, to their great disappointment, farther advance became impossible by reason of an impenetrable barrier of ice.

The approach of winter decided Lieutenant Parry to seek the shelter near Melville Island and there prepare for the long winter months.

To the group of islands in the vicinity of which he had taken refuge, he gave the name of Georgian Islands, in honour of His Majesty, King George III, but later the name was changed to Parry Islands.

Knowing well that good spirits meant good health in the tedious winter months, Lieutenant Parry established a school for his men, as well as the diversion of a newspaper, and the ship’s crew acted several plays, which were most enthusiastically received. In spite of enforced exercise and other methods for keeping in good physical condition, scurvy showed itself among the crew, and such antiscorbutics as lemon juice, pickles, mustard, cress, and spruce-beer were put into requisition. Later, snow-blindness afflicted some of the men, but was relieved by washes and the wearing of black crape before the eyes.

As the spring approached, the ships were made ready for the first opportunity to escape from the ice, which, however, remained impenetrable.

On the 1st of June an excursion was made across Melville Island by Lieutenant Parry and others, carrying provisions for three weeks. They found such parts of the ground as were free from snow covered with dwarf willow, sorrel, and poppy, also moss and saxifrage. A few ducks and ptarmigan were killed. Upon his return to the ship the middle of June, Captain Parry ordered his men to make daily excursions after sorrel, which they procured in large quantities and greatly enjoyed. On the western side of the island at Bushman’s Cove, in Liddon’s Gulf, they found “one of the pleasantest and most habitable spots we had yet seen in the Arctic regions, the vegetation being more abundant and forward than in any other place, and the situation sheltered and favorable for game.”

Though channels and pools were everywhere forming, it was not until the second of August that the great mass of ice broke up and floated out. The ship now made for the open water, but after a short advance, in spite of every effort, they found themselves once more prevented by the impenetrable barrier of ice from making their way westward. There seemed no alternative but a return homeward, and after taking certain additional observations of the two coasts extending along Barrow Strait, they set sail for England.

A warm welcome awaited the daring navigators, who had reached a longitude greater by more than 30° than any other explorer; who had discovered many new lands, islands, and bays; had established the fact of a polar sea north of America; and had wintered successfully in the Arctic, bringing back his crew in good condition.

PARRY’S SECOND VOYAGE

Parry’s unprecedented success and the enthusiasm for Arctic exploration throughout England decided the British Admiralty to send out a second expedition to attempt a passage in a lower latitude than that of Melville Island. The Hecla and the Fury were manned and provisioned and put under the command of Captain Parry and Lieutenant Lyon, whose travels in Tripoli, Mourzouk, and other parts of northern Africa had already brought him consideration and some degree of renown. The transport Nautilus was to accompany the ships as far as the ice, and transship extra provisions and stock as soon as room could be found for them.

The ships sailed from the Nore on the 8th of May, 1821, and by the 2d of July were at the mouth of Hudson Strait, having parted with the Nautilus the previous day. Icebergs in formidable numbers had already been encountered, and the desolate condition of the shores, the naked rocks, the snow-covered valleys, and the thick fogs encountered were anything but encouraging.

Progress was now made through very heavy floes, and between strong currents, eddies, and icebergs they were menaced by serious danger for more than ten days. While embayed in the ice, they sighted near Resolution Island three strange ships also fast in the ice. These they later managed to join, and found them to be Hudson Bay Company’s traders, the Prince of Wales, the Eddystone, and the Lord Wellington, chartered to convey one hundred and sixty emigrants, who intended settling on Lord Selkirk’s estate at the Red River. Of these people Lieutenant Lyon writes an interesting account:—

“While nearing these vessels, we observed the settlers waltzing on deck for above two hours, the men in old-fashioned gray jackets, and the women wearing long-eared mob caps, like those used by Swiss peasants. As we were surrounded by ice, and the thermometer was at the freezing point, it may be supposed that this ball al vero fresco afforded us much amusement.”

Some days later they fell in with some Eskimos, who came out to the ships, the men in their kayaks, the women in their special “oomiaks.” The natives boarded the ships and, says Captain Lyon:—

“It is quite out of my power to describe the shouts, yells, and laughter of the savages, or the confusion which existed for two or three hours. The females were at first very shy, and unwilling to come on the ice, but bartered everything from their boats. This timidity, however, soon wore off, and they, in the end, became as noisy and boisterous as the men.”

“The strangers were so well pleased in our society,” continues Captain Lyon, “that they showed no wish to leave us, and when the market had quite ceased, they began dancing and playing with our people, on the ice alongside.

“In order to amuse our new acquaintances as much as possible, the fiddler was sent on the ice, where he instantly found a most delightful set of dancers, of whom some of the women kept pretty good time. Their only figure consisted in stamping and jumping with all their might. Our musician, who was a lively fellow, soon caught the infection, and began cutting capers also. In a short time every one on the floe, officers, men, and savages, were dancing together, and exhibited one of the most extraordinary sights I ever witnessed. One of our seamen, of a fresh, ruddy complexion, excited the admiration of all the young females, who patted his face and danced round him wherever he went. The exertion of dancing so exhilarated the Eskimos, that they had the appearance of being boisterously drunk, and played many extraordinary pranks. Among others, it was a favorite joke to run slyly behind the seamen, and shouting loudly in one ear, to give them at the same time a very smart slap on the other. While looking on, I was sharply saluted in this manner, and, of course, was quite startled, to the great amusement of the bystanders. Our cook, who was a most active and unwearied jumper, became so great a favorite, that every one boxed his ears so soundly as to oblige the poor man to retire from such boisterous marks of approbation. Among other sports, some of the Eskimos, rather roughly but with great good humor, challenged our people to wrestle. One man in particular, who had thrown several of his countrymen, attacked an officer of a very strong make, but the poor savage was instantly thrown, with no very easy fall; yet, although every one was laughing at him, he bore it with exemplary good humor. The same officer afforded us much diversion by teaching a large party of women to bow, courtesy, shake hands, turn their toes out, and perform other polite accomplishments; the whole party, master and pupils, presenting the strictest gravity.

“Toward midnight all our men, except the watch on deck, turned into their beds, and the fatigued and hungry Eskimos returned to their boats to take their supper, which consisted of lumps of raw flesh, and blubber of seals, birds, entrails, etc.; licking their fingers with great zest, and with knives or fingers scraping the blood and grease which ran down their chins into their mouths.”

FROZEN STRAIT OF MIDDLETON

Parry made an examination of Duke of York Bay, and the 20th of August reached the Frozen Strait of Middleton. Two days later the Hecla and Fury got well into Repulse Bay, and a careful examination of the shores was made by parties of officers and men in boats. By the 31st of August they reached Gore Bay, which was packed with ice. Encountering thick fogs, northerly winds, and heavy ice-floes, they found that in spite of every exertion they were being carried back to the spot in Fox Channel from which they had started some days before. However, they later made some advance and anchored near Lyon Inlet.

Early in October the sludge, or young ice, began to form, a warning of approaching winter, to be followed shortly by the pancake ice and bay ice, which necessitated finding at once winter quarters for the ships. The southeast extremity of an island off Lyon Inlet was selected, and called Winter Island, and the monotonous winter closed in upon them shortly after.

TEN MONTHS’ IMPRISONMENT

The usual theatrical diversions were provided for the entertainment of the crew, and the “Rivals” was presented as well as another successful play. The crew took kindly to a school established by the officers and to other forms of mental and physical activity designed to keep the expedition in good health and spirits. Christmas was celebrated with especial good cheer, and English roast beef, which had been kept by being frozen, was served, as well as cranberry pies and plum puddings. The effect of the intense cold upon certain of their stores is interesting:—

“Wine froze in the bottles. Port was congealed into thin pink laminæ, which lay loosely, and occupied the whole length of the bottle. White wine, on the contrary, froze into a solid and perfectly transparent mass, resembling amber.”

On the 15th of March, a party under Captain Lyon started out to explore the land near the ships; they were provisioned for three or four days, but their experience was most unfortunate. The cold was intense, their tents at night affording little protection against the frightfully low temperature. They spent some time digging out a snow hut, which they hoped would prove warmer, but this was hardly more satisfactory. The following morning they found themselves almost buried with snow which had drifted at night during a fierce gale which now raged. All paraphernalia, sledges, etc., were completely buried. To remain where they were was as impracticable as to move on. Carrying with them a few pounds of bread, some rum, and a spade, the party set out in the hope of reaching the ships. Captain Lyon records their sufferings as follows:—

“Not knowing where to go, we wandered among heavy hummocks of ice, and suffering from cold, fatigue, and anxiety, were soon completely bewildered. Several of our party now began to exhibit symptoms of that horrid kind of insensibility which is the prelude of sleep. They all professed extreme willingness to do what they were told in order to keep in exercise, but none obeyed; on the contrary, they reeled about like drunken men. The faces of several were severely frost bitten, and some had for a considerable time lost sensation in their fingers and toes; yet they made not the slightest exertion to rub the parts affected, and even discontinued their general custom of warning each other on observing a discoloration of the skin. Mr. Palmer employed the people in building a snow wall, ostensibly as a shelter from the wind, but in fact to give them exercise when standing still must have proved fatal to men in our circumstances. My attention was exclusively directed to Sergeant Speckman, who, having been repeatedly warned that his nose was frozen, had paid no attention to it, owing to the state of stupefaction into which he had fallen. The frost bite now extended over one side of his face, which was frozen as hard as a mask; the eyelids were stiff and one corner of the upper lip so drawn up as to expose the teeth and gums. My hands being still warm, I had happiness in restoring circulation, after which I used all my endeavors to keep the poor fellow in motion; but he complained sadly of giddiness and dimness of sight, and was so weak as to be unable to walk without assistance. His case was so alarming that I expected every moment he would lie down never to rise again.

“Our prospect now became every moment more gloomy, and it was but too probable that four of our party would be unable to survive another hour. Mr. Palmer, however, endeavored, as well as myself, to cheer the people up, but it was a faint attempt, as we had not a single hope to give them. Every piece of ice, or even of small rock or stone, was now supposed to be the ships, and we had great difficulty in preventing the men from running to the different objects which attracted them, and consequently losing themselves in the drift. In this state, while Mr. Palmer was running round us to warm himself, he suddenly pitched on a new beaten track, and as exercise was indispensable, we determined on following it, wherever it might lead us. Having taken the Sergeant under my coat, he recovered a little, and we moved onward, when to our infinite joy we found that the path led to the ships.”

It was not until the 2d of July that the ships, free from ice for the first time in 267 days, put to sea, but not without danger of squeezes from the moving ice-floes which frequently threatened the destruction of the ship. Pushing to the northward, they entertained high hopes of making the looked-for passage to the Polar Sea, but unfortunately a formidable line of impenetrable ice barred the way and determined Parry to make an expedition along the frozen surface of the strait in which they found themselves.

For four days Parry, accompanied by a party of six, made a laborious and fatiguing advance over the uneven hummocks of ice that confronted them. At times open water made the journey still more perilous. Their exertions were at last repaid when they came in view of a bold cape, where they found the strait at its narrowest part about two miles across. To the westward the land receded until it became invisible, and Captain Parry beheld the great Polar Sea, into which he had long hoped to force his way. Naming this the Fury and Hecla Strait, he made ready for the return to the ships.

Taking advantage of every favourable condition, Captain Parry now made as rapid progress toward his goal as the ice would permit. Under full sail they pushed into the rotten ice that formed the barrier to the open water, but suddenly they became fixed,—not another yard could be gained. It was now found necessary to extricate the vessels and seek shelter for another long winter. On the 30th of October, by the usual operation of sawing, the ships were drawn into the harbour of Igloolik, and made ready for the winter, which was now rapidly closing.

Excursions were occasionally made with dogs and sledges bought of the Eskimos, but the season settled down with unusual severity and the second long winter’s night proved much more trying than the first. Death and scurvy made their lamentable appearance, and although Captain Parry desired to make another effort the following year by transferring to the Fury all provisions that could be spared, and sending the Hecla home with the sick, this project was abandoned, and on the 9th of August they turned their faces homeward.

They touched at Winter Island and found radishes, mustard, cress, and onions that they had planted the previous year still alive. The ships were drifted about in a stormy sea at the mercy of ice-floes and adverse currents. Not until September 23 did they get free into the Atlantic; and, the 10th of October, 1823, reached Lerwick, Scotland.

DESTRUCTION OF THE FURY

This expedition having proved the impracticability of a passage through the western extremity of Melville Island or by way of Fury and Hecla Strait, it was hoped that a passage might be accomplished through Prince Regent Inlet. For this purpose, Captain Parry was again fitted out in the Hecla and in the accidental absence of Captain Lyon, Lieutenant Hoppner was put in command of the Fury. The expedition sailed from Northfleet on the 19th of May, 1824, and entered Davis Strait about the middle of June. Lancaster Sound was not reached until September 10, and Port Bowen was made their winter quarters. After ten months’ imprisonment, the ships were once more free, but, later overtaken by gales, both ships sustained serious damage. Drift ice caught them and threatened immediate destruction. The Fury was thrown on shore and seriously damaged. Later it was found necessary to abandon her. The Hecla, now overcrowded by the provisions and crew of the Fury, could no longer pursue her course and was forced to return to England. Bitter as was his disappointment, Parry clung to the idea that a northwest passage would some day be accomplished, and to this end he wrote:—

“I feel confident that the undertaking, if it be deemed advisable at any future time to pursue it, will one day or other be accomplished; for setting aside the accidents to which, from their very nature, such attempts must be liable, as well as other unfavorable circumstances which human foresight can never guard against, or human power control, I cannot but believe it to be an enterprise of practicability. It may be tried often and fail, for several favorable and fortunate circumstances must be combined for its accomplishment: but I believe, nevertheless, that it will ultimately be accomplished.”

“I am much mistaken, indeed,” he continues, “if the Northwest Passage ever becomes the business of a single summer; nay, I believe that nothing but a concurrence of very favorable circumstances is likely ever to make a single winter in the ice sufficient for its accomplishment. But there is no argument against the possibility of final success; for we know that a winter in the ice may be passed not only in safety, but in health and comfort.”

PARRY’S FOURTH VOYAGE

“I in April, 1826,” writes Captain Parry, “proposed to the Right Honorable Viscount Melville, the first lord commissioner of the Admiralty, to attempt to reach the North Pole by means of travelling with sledge-boats over the ice, or through any spaces of open water that might occur. My proposal was soon afterward referred to the president and council of the Royal Society, who strongly recommended its adoption; and an expedition being accordingly directed to be equipped for this purpose, I had the honour of being appointed to the command of it; and my commission for his majesty’s ship the Hecla, which was to carry us to Spitzbergen, was dated the 11th of November, 1826.

Entering Lancaster Sound

“Two boats were constructed at Woolwich, under my superintendence, after an excellent model suggested by Mr. Peake, and nearly resembling what are called ‘troop-boats,’ having great flatness of floor, with the extreme breadth carried well forward and aft, and possessing the utmost buoyancy, as well as capacity for storage. Their length was twenty feet, and their extreme breadth seven feet. The timbers were made of tough ash and hickory, one inch by half an inch square, and a foot apart, with a ‘half timber’ of smaller size between each two. On the outside of the frame thus formed was laid a covering of Mackintosh’s water proof canvas, the outer part being covered with tar. Over this was placed a plank for fir, only three-sixteenths of an inch thick; then a sheet of stout felt; and over all, an oak plank of the same thickness as the fir; the whole of these being firmly and closely secured to the timbers by iron screws applied from without.”

“On each side of the keel,” continues Captain Parry, “and projecting considerably below it, was attached a strong ‘runner’ shod with smooth steel, in the manner of a sledge, upon which the boat entirely rested while upon the ice.” Two wheels were also attached, but soon discarded as useless, owing to the unevenness of the ice.

Two officers and twelve men were selected for each boat’s crew. The Hecla, acting as transport for the adventure, sailed March 27, 1827, and made Hakluyt’s Headland by the 13th of May, where she was shortly beset by an ice-floe which carried her off to the eastward, causing both delay and vexation. For the safety of the Hecla it was found necessary to return to Spitzbergen and secure anchorage in a safe harbour. This Parry accomplished and, finding a convenient recess, which he named Hecla’s Cove, made ready for the main object of the expedition.

Having with him seventy-one days’ provisions, consisting of pemmican, biscuit, cocoa, and rum, with spirit of wine to be used as fuel, changes of warm clothing, thick fur dresses for sleeping in, and stout Eskimo boots, he got away June 22, and proceeded in open water some eighty miles, when the boats came to a trying condition of mixed surface ice and water, through which it was found necessary alternately to haul and float them. Owing to the better condition of the ice, it was deemed best to reverse the usual course of life.

“Travelling by night and sleeping by day,” writes Captain Parry “so completely inverted the natural order of things that it was difficult to persuade ourselves of the reality. Even the officers and myself, who were all furnished with pocket chronometers, could not always bear in mind at which part of the twenty-four hours we had arrived; and there were several of the men who declared, and I believe truly, that they never knew night from day during the whole excursion. When we rose in the evening, we commenced our day by prayers; after which we took off our fur sleeping dresses and put on clothes for travelling, the former being made of camlet lined with raccoon skin, and the latter of strong blue cloth. We made a point always of putting on the same stockings and boots for travelling in, whether they had been dried during the day or not, and I believe it was only in five or six instances at the most that they were not either still wet or hard frozen. This indeed was of no consequence, beyond the discomfort of first putting them on in this state, as they were sure to be thoroughly wet in a quarter of an hour after commencing our journey; while, on the other hand, it was of vital importance to keep dry things for sleeping in. Being ‘rigged’ for travelling, we breakfasted upon warm cocoa and biscuit, and after stowing the things in boats, and on the sledges, so as to secure them as much as possible from the wet, we set off on our day’s journey and usually travelled four, five, or seven hours, according to circumstances.”

They made very slow progress in spite of their strenuous exertions, owing to the floes being small, exceedingly rough, and intersected by lanes of water which could not be crossed without unloading the boats. Rain added to their discomfort, causing the ice to form into numberless irregular needle-like crystals, which proved very trying to the feet. Elevated hummocks presented themselves, over which it was almost impossible to draw the boats.

Even by the utmost efforts they could not make an advance of more than a mile and a half or two miles in five or six hours. Realizing the unfavourable conditions for reaching the pole, owing to the advanced season of the year, Parry soon relinquished that hope and bent his energies to reaching at best the 83° parallel, if possible. But now to his utter discouragement it was found that the drifting of the snow fields was gradually carrying them backward, and that, in spite of every attempt to advance, they were daily losing ground.

On July 23, they reached their farthest north, 82° 45´. “At the extreme point of our journey,” says Parry, “our distance from the Hecla was only one hundred and seventy-two miles in a S. W. direction. To accomplish this distance, we had traversed, by our reckoning, two hundred and ninety-two miles, of which about one hundred were performed by water previously to our entering the ice. As we travelled by far the greater part of our distance on the ice three, and not unfrequently five, times over, we may safely multiply the length of the road by two and a half; so that our whole distance, on a very moderate calculation, amounted to five hundred and eighty geographical, or six hundred and sixty-eight statute miles, being nearly sufficient to have reached the pole in a direct line. Up to this period, we had been particularly fortunate in the preservation of our health.”

Owing to the increased softness of the ice, the return trip was even more difficult than the advance, the men sinking to their thighs in the ice slush. By the 11th of August the joyful sound of the surf breaking against the margin of the ice was heard, and later the boats were launched into open water, and in another ten days they rejoined the Hecla, and soon afterward sailed for England.

Parry’s remarkable voyages, besides reaping a rich harvest of scientific data, had proved the navigability of Lancaster Sound, the non-existence of the Crocker Mountains, and that Prince Regent Inlet opened into Barrow Strait, which in turn widened into Melville Sound, and thence opened into the polar ocean. He had added to the map the important archipelago or Parry Islands, many of which he named and explored; had outlined the sounds, bays, and inlets through which he had sailed; discovered Hecla and Fury Strait; and demonstrated the impracticability of making the northwest passage by way of Frozen Strait.

CHAPTER V

Nineteenth century, continued: Scoresby and Clavering.—Former visited Jan Mayen Island in 1817, later visited east coast of Greenland, discovered Scoresby Sound.—In 1824, Captain Lyon surveyed Melville Peninsula.—Adjoining straits and shores of Arctic America.—In 1825, Captain Beechey in the Blossom sailed through Behring Strait and passed beyond Icy Cape.—Surveyed the coast as far as Point Barrow, adding 126 miles of new shore.—Second voyage of Captain John Ross.—Undertaken in 1829.—Discovers Boothia.—Wintered in Felix Harbor.—Discovery of North Magnetic Pole by nephew of Captain John Ross.—Commander James Clark Ross.—Valuable observations.—Sledge journeys to mainland.—Four years spent in the Arctic.—Perilous retreat.—Safe return.—Land journey by Captain Back.—The Great Fish-Back River.—Point Ogle.—Point Richardson.—Back’s farthest point was 68° 13´ 57´´ north latitude, 94° 58´ 1´´ west longitude. Land journeys of Simpson and Dease, 1836.—Descend the Mackenzie River to the sea.—Surveyed west shore between Return Reef and Cape Barrow.—In 1839, they explored shores of Victoria Land as far as Cape Parry.—Crossed Coronation Gulf.—Descended the Coppermine.—Reached the Polar Sea.—Overland journey in 1846 by Dr. John Rae confirmed Captain John Ross’s statement that Boothia was a peninsula.

The names of Scoresby and Clavering hold their own special interest in the long list of heroes of the north. A practical whaleman, of an intelligent and scientific frame of mind, Scoresby, as early as 1806, had penetrated to within five hundred geographical miles of the Pole. In 1817 he had made an excursion to Jan Mayen Island, and later ascended Mitre Cape, whose summit is estimated at three thousand feet above the level of the sea. But not until 1822 did his discoveries reach the greatest importance. In this year, while searching for better fishing grounds, he fell in with the eastern coast of Greenland, a shore almost entirely unknown, except where the Dutch colonies of Old Greenland were supposed to have been situated. Skirting this bleak and barren coast, Scoresby named inlets, bays, and capes as he discovered them, passing Jameson Land and finally reaching Scoresby Sound.

The coast of Jameson Land seemed especially fertile, and evidences of rude habitations were seen, but no human beings discovered. Proceeding northward, still following the coast-line, he was soon beset with ice, and though he named other points of land and inlets, he was obliged to return, not having run across the whales which it was his business to secure.

Good fortune, however, favoured him, for on the 15th of August numerous whales appeared round the ship; three were secured, and the ship now “full-fished” could make a happy return to England after a most successful year.

The following season, Captain Clavering, commander of H. M. S. Griper, conveyed a Captain Sabine to Hammerfest in Norway, where Sabine desired to make certain scientific observations on the comparative length of the pendulum as affected by the principle of attraction. Other northern points were to be touched for similar purposes, and Spitzbergen and the east coast of Greenland were designated, the latter point being reached early in August. “He landed his passenger and the scientific apparatus on two islands detached from the eastern shore of the continent, which he called the Pendulum Islands, and of which the outermost point is marked by a bold headland rising to the height of three thousand feet.” (“Arctic Adventures,” Sargent.) While waiting for Captain Sabine, Clavering reconnoitred the coast, and was more fortunate than Scoresby in running across some of the natives, who closely resembled those described by Parry. By the beginning of September, Sabine having completed his observations, the Griper made her way, not without difficulty and delays, by way of Drontheim, back to England.

MELVILLE PENINSULA

In 1824, Captain Lyon, commanding the Griper, was given the task of the survey of Melville Peninsula, adjoining straits, and the shore of Arctic America. Overladen and unseaworthy, the Griper was totally unfit for such an expedition, and upon reaching Roe Welcome, she was struck by a gale which threatened the destruction of both the ship and crew. After being battered around at the mercy of the storm for three days and nights, in which commander and crew had taken no rest or sleep, she was finally brought to anchor in a shallow bay, later designated as God’s Mercy. Here she was still in imminent danger of being grounded, and there seemed little hope of her surviving the high seas then running. The crew were ordered to prepare for the worst, and to this end each man was commanded to put on his warmer clothing. Of this scene, Captain Lyon writes:—

“Each, therefore, brought his bag on deck and dressed himself, and in the fine athletic forms which stood exposed before me, I did not see one muscle quiver, nor the slightest sign of alarm. Prayers were read, and they then all sat down in groups, sheltered from the wash of the sea by whatever they could find, and some endeavored to obtain a little sleep. Never, perhaps, was witnessed a finer scene than on the deck of my little ship, when all hope of life had left us. Noble as the character of the British sailor is always allowed to be in cases of danger, yet I did not believe it to be possible that among forty-one persons, not one repining word should have been uttered. Each was at peace with his neighbor and all the world; and I am firmly persuaded that the resignation which was then shown to the will of the Almighty, was the means of obtaining His mercy. God was merciful to us, and the tide, almost miraculously, fell no lower.”

As soon as the weather conditions permitted, they attempted to proceed up Melville Channel, but another storm overtook them, and, after consulting with his officers, it was decided to turn the crippled ship for home.

Another expedition that set out about this time (1825) was commanded by Captain Beechey. The Blossom was directed to round Cape Horn and enter the Arctic by way of Behring Strait. In describing this great gateway to the north, Captain Beechey writes:—

“We approached the strait which separates the two great continents of Asia and America, on one of those beautiful still nights well known to all who have visited the Arctic regions, when the sky is without a cloud, and when the midnight sun, scarcely his own diameter below the horizon, tinges with a bright hue all the northern circle.