ARCTIC EXPLORATION

SAILING THE ARCTIC SEAS

ARCTIC
EXPLORATION

BY
J. DOUGLAS HOARE
WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS AND FOUR MAPS

NEW YORK

E. P. DUTTON & CO.
1906

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

ARCTIC EXPLORATION

CHAPTER I
EARLY VOYAGES

The story of the first few centuries of Arctic exploration can, of course, never be written. The early Norsemen, to whom must go the credit for most of the first discoveries, were a piratical race, and their many voyages were conducted, for the most part, in a strictly business-like spirit. Occasionally one of them would happen on a new country by accident, just as Naddod the Viking happened upon Iceland in 861 by being driven there by a gale while on his way to the Faroe Islands. Occasionally a curious adventurer would follow in the footsteps of one of these early discoverers, but no serious attempt was made to widen the field of knowledge thus opened up, unless the Norsemen saw their way to entering upon commercial relations with the natives, to the great disadvantage of the latter.

AN OLD MAP OF THE POLAR REGIONS
FROM NARBOROUGH’S “VOYAGES” (1694)
The erroneous intersection of Greenland by Frobisher’s Strait should be especially noted

Rumours of the existence of Iceland, or Thule as it was then called, were first brought home by Pytheas, while Irish monks are known to have stayed there early in the ninth century, but probably the first attempt to colonise it was made by Thorold about a hundred years after Naddod’s visit. This worthy Viking, feeling it advisable to leave his native land after a quarrel with a relative, during the course of which the latter had been killed, set his course for Iceland, and made himself a new home there. Shortly afterwards his son Erik, who seems to have inherited his father’s taste for murder, followed him to his new abode, and later on, when on a voyage of adventure, set foot upon Greenland. Erik’s son, Leif, who was also of a roving disposition, sailed far westward in 100 A.D., and landed either on Newfoundland or at the mouth of the St Lawrence, thus anticipating the discovery of America by Columbus by nearly five hundred years.

It was not until the end of the fifteenth century that the first serious attempts at Arctic exploration were made by John Cabot and his son Sebastian. John Cabot was a Venetian, who settled at Bristol probably about the year 1474, and to him belongs the honour of being the first to suggest the possibility of finding a north-west passage to India. In 1496 he received a commission from Henry VII. to sail out for the discovery of countries and islands unknown to Christian peoples, and though the real object of his voyage, discreetly veiled beneath these purposely vague terms, was not attained, he immortalised his name by the discovery of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island. The history of the earlier Cabot voyages is sadly obscure, and was rendered more so by Sebastian himself, who in his later years seems to have claimed discoveries which properly belonged to his father. Sebastian is unquestionably the hero of his own account of the expedition of 1496, which is given by Hakluyt:—

“When news were brought that Don Christoval Colon (i.e. Christopher Columbus), the Genoese, had discovered the coasts of India, whereof was great talke in all the court of King Henry VII., who then reigned, insomuch that all men with great admiration affirmed it to be a thing more divine than humane to saile by the West into the East where spices growe, by a way that was never knowen before, by this fame and report there increased in my heart a great flame of desire to attempt some notable thing. And understanding by reason of the Sphere (i.e. globe) that if I should saile by way of the North-west I should by a shorter tract come into India, I thereupon caused the king to be advertised of my devise, who immediately commanded two Carvels to be furnished with all things appertayning to the voyage, which was as farre as I remember in the year 1496, in the beginning of Sommer. I began therefore to sail toward the North-west, not thinking to find any other land than that of Cathay and from thence to turn toward India; but after certaine days, I found that the land ranne towards the North, which was to me a great displeasure. Nevertheless, sayling along by the coast to see if I could finde any gulfe that turned, I found the lande still continent to the 58th degree under our Pole. And seeing that the coast turned toward the East, despairing to finde the passage, I turned backe againe, and sailed downe by the coast of that land toward the Equinoctiall (ever with intent to finde the saide passage to India) and came to that part of this firme lande which is nowe called Florida, where my victuals failing, I departed from thence and returned into England, where I found great tumults among the people, and preparation for warres in Scotland, by reason whereof there was no more consideration had to this voyage.”

John Cabot made a second expedition in 1498, and probably died soon after. Sebastian, who had accompanied his father on both his American voyages, finding the English Government little inclined to spend money on further exploration, transferred his services to the King of Spain, for whom he did excellent work by examining the coast of South America. In 1548, however, he returned to England, and Edward VI. did him the honour that was his just due, by settling on him the sum of 500 marks (£166, 13s. 4d.) a year for life, and, according to Hakluyt, creating him Grand Pilot. Never did a man deserve his honours more, for, by founding the company of Merchant Adventurers, of which he was the first governor, he did much to extend the foreign commerce of the nation, and, by fostering a spirit of enterprise, he paved the way for that immense success won by our sailors and merchants during the next century.

The first purely British expedition was that of Robert Thorne, of Bristol, at whose instigation, say Hall and Grafton, “King Henry VIII. sent out two fair ships, well manned and victualled, having in them divers cunning men to seek strange regions, and so they set forth out of the Thames, on the 20th day of May, in the nineteenth yere of his raigne, which was the yere of our Lord 1527.” The “fair ships” had as their objective no less a place than the North Pole, but the men do not seem to have been sufficiently “cunning” to make much headway against the difficulties that beset their path, and the chronicles of the time are singularly reticent concerning their doings.

The voyage of the Trinitie and Minion, which sailed in 1536, is one of the most disastrous on record. The expedition was sent out with a view to exploring North-West America, and it reached the coast of Newfoundland in safety. It seems, however, to have been hopelessly under-provisioned, and the men, having little to eat on board and finding themselves unable to supplement their scanty store on land, took to cannibalism, and would all have perished but for the timely arrival of a French ship, which they promptly set upon and misappropriated. We are not told what happened to the unfortunate Frenchmen, but Henry VIII. is reported to have compensated such as survived.

Hitherto the energies of our sailors had been principally devoted to discovering a north-west passage to India, Cathay, and the Indies. When, however, Cabot returned from Spain and was made “Governour of the mysterie and companie of the marchants adventurers for the discovery of regions, dominions, islands and places unknown,” he promptly showed how well fitted he was for that honourable post by suggesting that, as the voyages towards the north-west had not been attended by much success, it would not be amiss to try a change of tactics and to attempt to find a way to Cathay by the north-east. The idea was taken up enthusiastically, and, as this was the first extended maritime venture made by us in distant seas, the utmost care was exercised over the preparations. Three ships were specially built for the enterprise, and were fitted out in the most substantial manner possible. The admiral of the fleet, the Bona Esperanza, 120 tons, was placed under the command of Sir Hugh Willoughby, and carried thirty-five persons, who included six merchants. The Edward Bonaventure, 160 tons, was commanded by Captain Richard Chancellor, her company consisting of fifty, including two merchants; and the Bona Confidentia, 90 tons, was commanded by Cornelius Durfourth, and carried twenty-eight souls, also including two merchants. These three ships sailed from Ratcliffe on May 20, and, after tracing the coast of Norway, rounded the North Cape in company. Here a storm separated the Bonaventure from her sister ships, and, fortunately for her and her company, drove her to Vardö, in Norway. Willoughby and his two ships succeeded in making the coast of Lapland, and spent the winter on the desolate coast of the Kola Peninsula. In those days, unfortunately, but little was known of the art and science of wintering in the Arctic regions, and every member of the company perished miserably of scurvy.

Chancellor, after waiting awhile at Vardö in the hope that the rest of the fleet would join him there, determined to push on on his own account, and he eventually succeeded in reaching the north coast of Russia. The intelligence of his arrival was conveyed to the Czar, Ivan Vasilovich, who was so much interested in what he heard that he invited him to Moscow. There Chancellor spent the winter, and with such ardour did he forward the interests of his country, that he laid the foundations of that great trade between England and Russia which has flourished ever since. It is worthy of note that his first landing place is now marked by the great seaport of Archangel.

Chancellor’s second expedition was less fortunate, for the gallant sailor lost his life in his attempt to continue his work. He reached Russia in safety, and once more repaired to Moscow, where he continued the negotiations which he had previously begun. While returning home, however, his ship was wrecked in Pitsligo Bay on the east coast of Scotland and he was drowned.

The expedition of Chancellor and Willoughby had, of course, been primarily sent out with a view to finding a north-east passage to China, and these negotiations with Russia were a side issue not originally contemplated by its promoters. Consequently, while Chancellor was away on his second voyage, the Company of Merchants Adventurers equipped a second expedition for the discovery of the North-East Passage, which they placed under the command of Stephen Burrough. The Searchthrift, as the ship was named, set sail on April 23, 1556, but it was stopped by fog and ice, and Burrough was obliged to return to England without accomplishing his mission, though he succeeded in discovering Nova Zembla.

The next English mariner to win fame for himself by his adventures in the Arctic seas was Martin Frobisher, who, under the auspices of Queen Elizabeth, the Earl of Warwick, a well-known merchant named Lok and others, fitted out a fleet of three cockle-shells, the united burden of which was only 73 tons, and set sail in 1576, with intent to discover the North-West Passage. The chief result of Frobisher’s voyage was a vast mass of very misleading information. On reaching Davis Strait he came to the conclusion that it bisected Greenland, an error which retained its place in the maps for some three centuries. In the middle of the strait he discovered an island which did not exist, while he brought home with him the interesting information that large deposits of gold existed on the shores which he had visited. On the strength of this all sorts of plans for working these deposits were taken up, which only ended in the financial loss and bitter disappointment of their promoters. Frobisher undertook the command of two subsequent expeditions, but neither of them resulted in any discoveries of much value. His name, however, will always be kept alive by the discovery of Frobisher and Hudson Straits, both of which he entered on his first journey.

We now come to by far the most important of these early voyages, namely that made by John Davis, of Sandridge, in 1585. Davis was a splendid old sea-dog of the finest type—shrewd, patient, and of absolutely indomitable courage. So high was his reputation, that when a number of merchants, headed by William Saunderson, determined to fit out a new expedition for the discovery of the North-West Passage, they offered him the command, and their offer was promptly accepted. The expedition, which consisted of two ships, the Sunshine, of 50 tons, and carrying twenty-three men, and the Moonshine, 35 tons, and carrying nineteen men, started on June 7, and by July 19 it was off the south-east coast of Greenland, where Davis heard for the first time the grinding together of the great icepacks. The shore looked so barren and forbidding—“lothsome” is the epithet which Davis applied to it—that he named it “Desolation.” Rounding the southern point of Greenland and bearing northward, he soon reached lat. 64°, where he moored his ships among some “green and pleasant isles,” inhabited by natives who were very friendly disposed and quite ready to trade with him. From these he learnt that there was a great sea towards the north and west, so he set sail and shaped his course W.N.W., expecting to get to China. Crossing the strait which now bears his name, he sighted land in 66° 40′ and anchored in Exeter Sound. The hill above them they named Mount Raleigh; the foreland to the north, Cape Dyer; and that to the south, Cape Walsingham—names which they still bear. The season was too far advanced for him to attempt to explore the sound, but he discovered the wealth of those regions in whales, seals, and deerskins—a discovery which, it need hardly be said, was very highly valued by the merchants who had equipped the expedition.

As was only natural, both Davis and his patrons were anxious to continue the discoveries thus auspiciously begun, and May 7, 1586, saw him starting on his second expedition, his fleet strengthened by the addition of the Merimade, a ship of 120 tons. She did not prove of very much service, however, for she deserted in lat. 66°, and Davis went on his way without her. He did not succeed in adding anything of value to his discoveries of the previous year, merely coasting southward along Labrador, without observing the entrance to Hudson Strait.

Davis’s third expedition left on May 19, 1587, and consisted of three ships, the Elizabeth, the Sunshine, and the Ellen. On reaching lat. 67° 40′ he left two of his ships to prosecute fishing, and sailed on by himself on a voyage of discovery. He came, as he tells us himself, “to the lat. of 75°, in a great sea, free from ice, coasting the western shore of Desolation.... Then I departed from that coast, thinking to discover the north parts of America. And after I had sailed toward the west near forty leagues, I fell upon a great bank of ice. The wind being north, and blew much, I was constrained to coast towards the south, not seeing any shore west from me. Neither was there any ice towards the north, but a great sea, free, large, very salt and blue, and of an unsearchable depth. So coasting towards the south, I came to the place where I left the ships to fish, but found them not. Thus being forsaken and left in this distress, referring myself to the merciful providence of God, I shaped my course for England, and unhoped for of any, God alone relieving me, I arrived at Dartmouth. By this last discovery it seemed most manifest that the passage was free and without impediment toward the north; but by reason of the Spanish fleet, and unfortunate time of Master Secretary’s death, the voyage was omitted, and never since attempted.” So ended the Arctic voyages of John Davis. “The discoveries which he made ...,” says Sir John Ross, “proved of great commercial importance; since to him, more than to any preceding or subsequent navigator, has the whale fishery been indebted.”

In the meantime interest in the North-East Passage had by no means subsided; indeed, it had actually been quickened by Philip II.’s accession to the throne of Portugal and by the consequent fact that Spain and Portugal, not content with already holding the monopoly of the route to the East, attempted to make their influence felt upon the trade operations of the nations of Northern Europe. It was in 1580 that Arthur Pet, in the George, and Charles Jackson, in the William, sailed from England under the auspices of the Muscovy Company, with instructions to push as far east as they possibly could. The expedition was singularly ill-found, for the burden of the George was only 40 tons, her crew consisting of nine men and a boy, while the William was but half the size of her sister ship, and carried a crew of five men and a boy. The adventurers, however, made light of the difficulties that beset them, and, after making Nova Zembla in the neighbourhood of the South Goose Cape, they turned south and, coasting along Waigat Island, entered the mouth of the Pechora. Thence they pushed their way into the Kara Sea, being the first sailors from Western Europe who ever achieved such a feat.

The Muscovy Company does not seem to have considered it worth its while to proceed with the exploration of these unattractive regions, but the Dutch, who were no less anxious than the English to find a North-East Passage, sent out in 1594 an expedition which consisted of three ships, commanded by Willem Barents, Nay, and Tetgales. Barents attempted to find a passage round the north of Nova Zembla, while his companions turned south and made their way into the Kara Sea. The reports which these pioneers brought home with them so encouraged their fellow-countrymen, that they were sent off with a fleet of seven ships in the following year to continue their discoveries. This expedition penetrated a little further along the coast, but it by no means succeeded in fulfilling its mission, and the States-General became rather chary of spending any more money upon the venture. Accordingly they contented themselves with offering a large reward to any person or persons who could find a practicable passage to China, and left it to private enterprise to do the rest. The result of this step was that a company of merchants fitted out two ships of discovery in 1596, and gave the command of one of them to John Cornelius Ryp and of the other to Heemskeerck, appointing Barents chief pilot to the latter. On June 9 they discovered an island which they called Bear Island, in memory of a terrific encounter that they had with a polar bear there. They now found that their progress eastwards was checked by ice, and they accordingly stood north, with the result that it fell to their lot to be the discoverers of Spitzbergen. They spent two days in a bay which appears to have been that known as Fair Haven, and then, after an ineffectual attempt to push further north, they returned to Bear Island, where, owing to a difference of opinion as to the best course to pursue, they parted company, Ryp revisiting the coast of Spitzbergen, while Barents set his course for Nova Zembla. We may mention parenthetically that Heemskeerck was not himself a sailor, and that, in consequence, the lion’s share of the honours which this expedition earned has always been given to Barents, on whom the navigation of the ship necessarily devolved.

STRANDED IN NOVA ZEMBLA

The rest of the story of this unfortunate voyage is one of terrible trials borne with heroic fortitude. While coasting along the shore of Nova Zembla, Barents suddenly found himself in the midst of heavy ice, and time after time his ship only just escaped destruction by the squeezing together of the floes. His duty to his employers always being uppermost in his mind, he bravely attempted to push on to the east, but he soon found that that was impossible, and that all his efforts must be directed towards getting his ship home. As he drew near the shore, however, in the hope of finding a little open water there, the ice bore down upon it, crushed his boats to pieces and almost annihilated his ship. To add to his misfortunes, a northerly gale arose, which placed him in an even more dangerous position than before. He now found himself to the east of the island in an inlet which he named Ice Haven, but which is now called Barents Bay, with his retreat cut off both to the north and to the south. There was nothing for him to do, therefore, but to make the most of an exceedingly bad business and spend the winter where he was. Now it must be remembered that no traveller had ever yet passed a winter in the Arctic regions, and that Barents and his men were totally unprepared for such an emergency. They had little food, less fuel, no proper clothes and, last but by no means least, their ship was not suited for a winter abode. In the midst of their misfortunes, however, they kept up their hearts, and instantly set about building a hut wherein they could spend the long, dark months.

Fortunately for them there was an abundance of driftwood on the island “driven upon the shoare, either from Tartaria, Muscovia, or elsewhere, for there was none growing upon that land, wherewith, as if God had purposely sent them to us, we were much comforted.” This driftwood lay at a distance of some eight miles from the site of this house, and the labour of fetching it was enhanced by the darkness which was now setting in, and by the ferocity of the bears which haunted the neighbourhood and were a constant source of danger to the party. The Dutchmen, however, worked with a will, and by October 24 they had moved into their new abode, one of the features of which was a wine cask, with a square opening cut in its side, which was set up in a corner and used as a bath.

The bears afforded them some fresh meat up till November 3, when they and the sun disappeared at one and the same time. After this they occasionally succeeded in trapping foxes, but the cold was so intense that they were often unable to venture out of the house for days together. “It blew so hard and snowed so fast,” writes Gerrit de Veer, the chronicler of the expedition, “that we should have smothered if we had gone out into the air; and to speake truth, it had not been possible for any man to have gone one ship’s length, though his life had laine thereon; for it was not possible for us to go out of the house. One of our men made a hole open at one of our doores ... but found it so hard wether that he stayed not long, and told us that it had snowed so much that the snow lay higher than our house.” Again, “It frose so hard that as we put a nayle into our mouths (as when men worke carpenter’s worke they use to doe), there would ice hang thereon when we tooke it out againe, and made the blood follow.” Or, “It was so extreme cold that the fire almost caste no heate; for as we put our feete to the fire, we burnt our stockings before we could feele the heate.... And, which is more, if we had not sooner smelt than felt them, we should have burnt them quite away ere we had knowne it.” De Veer also tells us that the clothes on the backs even of those who sat near the fire were frequently covered with hoar-frost, and that the beer and all the spirits were frozen solid. Yet in the midst of all this he was able to make the following entry in his journal: “We alwaies trusted in God that hee would deliver us from thence towards sommer time either one way or another.... We comforted each other giving God thanks that the hardest time of the winter was passed, being in good hope that we should live to talke of those things at home in our owne country.” It was in this spirit of patient resignation that the brave Dutchmen met all their troubles.

Even when the sun returned it brought them but little relief from their sufferings, for the intensity of the cold seemed to increase, and there was no hope that the ice in their harbour would break up early. The ship was so badly damaged that she could not survive the voyage home, so they set about repairing the boats as best they could, with a view to crossing in them the thousand miles of sea that lay between them and Lapland. At last the time came for them to make their departure, but Barents was now so ill that he had to be taken to the boat on a sledge. His courage, however, was still indomitable, as this passage in De Veer’s account shows: “Being at the Ice Point the maister called to William Barents to know how he did, and William Barents made answer and said, Quite well, mate. I still hope to be able to run before we get to Wardhuus. Then he spak to me and said: Gerrit, if we are near the Ice Point, just lift me up again. I must see that point once more.” His courage, however, was greater than his strength, and on June 20, six days after the start, the end came. We quote our chronicler once more: “William Barents looked at my little chart, which I had made of our voyage, and we had some discussion about it; at last he laid away the card and spak unto me saying, Gerrit, give me something to drink and he had no sooner drunke but he was taken with so sodain a qualme, that he turned his eies in his head and died presently. The death of William Barents put us in no small discomfort, as being the chiefe guide and onely pilot on whom we reposed ourselves next under God; but we could not strive against God, and therefore we must be content.”

The sufferings of the party of fifteen on their terrible voyage over the stormy and ice-laden sea were scarcely less terrible than those which they had endured on the island. Such was their courage and determination, however, that they at last reached Lapland in safety, where they had the satisfaction of finding Cornelius Ryp, on whose vessel they were conveyed back to Holland.

CHAPTER II
FROM HUDSON TO PHIPPS AND NELSON

With the voyages of Weymouth, Knight, and Hall, which occupied the first few years of the seventeenth century, we need not concern ourselves at all, for they resulted in no discoveries of any importance. In the year 1607, however, Henry Hudson started off on the first of that series of travels by which his name became famous, and during the course of which he succeeded in carrying the British flag to places that had never before been trodden by the foot of civilised man.

As has already been seen, the north-west and north-east passages to the Indies had been tried and found wanting. British merchants, however, were by no means disposed to let Spain and Portugal retain their lucrative monopoly without making a struggle to wrest it from them, so they determined to send out a fresh expedition which should attempt to force its way to the land of gems and spices over the North Pole itself. The command of this expedition was entrusted to Henry Hudson, a seaman of such daring and skill that he was well able to accomplish the work if it lay within the power of a human being to do so. Hudson started off from the Thames on May 1, 1607, in a small barque which was manned by ten men and a boy, and made direct for the east coast of Greenland. By June 22 he had reached lat. 72° 38′, where he discovered the land which still bears his name, the chief promontory of which he named Cape Hold-with-Hope. He then set his course for Spitzbergen, which, as we have seen, had been first sighted by Barents eleven years earlier, and there he reached the high latitude of 80° 23′. His provisions being now nearly exhausted, he was obliged to return home.

On his second voyage he attempted to discover a north-east passage round Nova Zembla, but was so hampered by ice that he was unable to proceed far on his way, while the only geographic result of his third voyage was the discovery of the Hudson River. These early expeditions, however, though they achieved little in the way of discovery, proved of great commercial value, for they gave rise to the great Spitzbergen whale fishery.

Hudson’s fourth and last voyage, that of 1610, was organised by Sir John Wolstenholm and Sir Dudley Digges, who were convinced of the existence of the North-West Passage, and felt that Hudson was the man to find it. Accordingly, Hudson sailed on April 17 in the Discovery, a ship of 55 tons, which was provisioned for six months. By June 9 he had reached Frobisher Strait, and here a contrary wind arose which compelled him to ply westward into Hudson’s Bay. Several British seamen had already visited the mouth of the strait, and it is believed that Portuguese fishermen had actually entered the bay; but the terrible circumstances which attended Hudson’s voyage to it made it only natural that it should be named after him in commemoration of his achievements and his fate.

The Discovery had penetrated the bay to a distance of over three hundred miles further than ever an English ship had penetrated it before when she was beset by ice, and all chance of retreat was cut off. As we have already seen, she was only provisioned for six months, and the unfortunate crew found themselves, in consequence, with starvation staring them in the face. Hudson, fortunately, was a man of resource, and he lost no time in organising hunting and fishing parties which provided his party with sufficient provisions to tide over the winter. Had his crew remained faithful to him all might have been well, but disaffection broke out early in the winter, which, gathering force as the store of provisions grew more and more scanty, broke out into open mutiny in the spring. The ringleaders were the former mate and boatswain, whom Hudson had been obliged to displace for using improper language, and a young man named Greene, a protégé of Hudson, who repaid his benefactor’s kindness by deserting him when he most needed friends. These men, seeing that when the ship broke out of winter quarters in June there were barely fourteen days’ provisions left for the whole crew, determined to place Hudson and eight other men in a boat, and, leaving them to shift for themselves, to sail home for England. This heartless plan was promptly carried into execution. Hudson was seized and bound when he came out of his cabin, and with five sick men, John Hudson and John King, the carpenter, who bravely refused to join the mutineers, was thrown into a boat and deserted. Of the unfortunate castaways nothing more was ever heard, and the most careful search of Sir Thomas Button, who examined the whole of the western shore of the bay, failed to discover any clue to their fate. Of the mutineers, Greene and four others were killed in a fight with the natives, while the rest only just succeeded in reaching England.

The voyages of Hall in 1612 and Gibbons in 1614 did not result in much, but in 1615 William Baffin started out on the first of his two expeditions which were destined to add so much to the world’s store of knowledge of the Arctic seas. Baffin, who was described by Sherard Osborn as “the ablest, the prince of Arctic navigators,” was in 1615 appointed by the Merchants Adventurers pilot and associate to Richard Bylot, of the Discovery, which was now to make her fourth voyage in search of the North-West Passage. Making first for Hudson Strait, they soon discovered that they were being led into a blind alley. As the conditions, however, did not permit them to extend their voyage much that season, they were obliged to return home. In the following year, however, they were sent out once more by the Merchants Adventurers, and on this occasion they determined to push on north along the coast of Greenland. On May 30 they reached Sanderson’s Hope, Davis’s farthest point, and there they entered upon an entirely new field of discovery. With such energy did they apply themselves to the work that they had crossed Melville Bay by the beginning of June, and were sailing merrily on their way past Cape York, Cape Dudley Digges, and Whale Sound. At last, when they had exceeded Davis’s farthest north by over three hundred miles, their triumphant career was stopped at the entrance to Smith Sound, within sight of Cape Alexander. This latitude, 77° 45′, remained unequalled for over two centuries.

Unable to proceed any further to the north, Baffin and Bylot determined to sail south-west, and to see if they could not add to their growing list of discoveries on their homeward journey. Their hopes were amply fulfilled, for on July 12 they found themselves off the entrance to Lancaster Sound, which was the gate, as it afterwards proved, to the North-West Passage. The ice, unfortunately, did not permit them to enter the Sound, so they made for the coast of Greenland, where they rested their men prior to their return to England.

For the next hundred years or so very little was done in the way of Arctic discovery. A Dane of the name of Jens Munk started out to seek for the North-West Passage, and succeeded in making a few discoveries in Hudson’s Bay. In 1631, again, Captain Luke, alias “North-West,” Fox sallied forth on the same mission, bearing with him an epistle from the King of England to the Emperor of Japan, which, however, remained undelivered. The work which he did was not of much value, but he made up for this deficiency by writing a very humorous account of his experiences. Captain James, who went exploring in the same year, seems to have been dogged by ill-luck from the beginning to the end of his voyage, and Barrow describes his narrative of it as “a book of lamentation and weeping and great mourning.”

Though, however, very little was done in the way of exploration during the second half of the seventeenth century, great strides were made in the development of the country already explored by the formation of the famous Hudson Bay Company, which for two hundred years did a tremendous trade in Northern Canada. The inception of this Company was mostly due to a certain French Canadian of the name of Grosseliez, who, after an ineffectual attempt to induce the French Government to consider his schemes for founding a great industry, came to England, where he obtained the ear of Prince Rupert. The Prince sailed for Hudson Bay with Grosseliez, saw the possibilities of the country, and obtained from King Charles a charter, dated 1669, which conferred on him and his associates, exclusively, all the trade, land, and territories in Hudson’s Bay. The charter further ordained that they should use their best endeavours to find a passage to the South Sea, but the Company soon became so rich from its trade that it seems to have conveniently forgotten this clause.

Occasionally, it is true, it attempted to do something in the way of exploration, but these efforts were for the most part only half-hearted, and resulted in little. In 1719, for example, James Knight, allured by reports of mines of pure copper by a great river to the north, gave the Company to understand that he would call upon the authorities to examine their charter unless they arranged an expedition and appointed him its leader.

Very reluctantly they consented to do as he wished, and equipped two ships for the purpose of surveying the northern coast of their territories. Not a single member of the expedition returned, and nothing was known of their fate until, forty years later, a quantity of wreckage was found on Marble Island.

With the exception of Middleton’s expedition of 1741, during the course of which Wager Inlet, Repulse Bay, and Frozen Strait were discovered, nothing much more was done in the way of Arctic exploration for the next fifty years. In 1769, however, the Company determined to make another effort to find the mines of copper of which the natives brought so glowing an account, and with this end in view they sent out an overland expedition under the command of Samuel Hearne. This expedition, which started out in November, was a complete failure, because it began its work too late in the year, while the second expedition, which left in February, failed because the preparations were inadequate. Warned by these two experiences, Hearne sallied forth once more in December 1670, and on this occasion he claimed to have found the mouth of the Coppermine River. His observations, however, were rather hazy, and it is doubtful whether he really reached the Polar Sea. The end of his journey was marred by an unfortunate collision between his Indian guides and a tribe of Eskimos, during the course of which all the unfortunate natives were massacred. The effects of this incident were to be felt later on, when Franklin, visiting those inhospitable shores with his gallant companions, was regarded with such suspicion by the Eskimos that he could hardly obtain that assistance which he so sorely needed.

One other early attempt to reach the Polar Sea by the land route deserves to be recorded: that of Alexander—afterwards Sir Alexander—Mackenzie, the discoverer of the river which bears his name. Having been led to believe by the accounts of Indians that the sea could be reached by a large river issuing from the Great Slave Lake, he determined to test the story himself, and set out on June 3, 1789. The difficulties in his way were innumerable, for not only was the river broken up by dangerous rapids, but it was only after infinite trouble that he could induce any guides to accompany him, for the natives believed the river to be peopled by monsters, who were ready to devour the unwary traveller without the least provocation. However, he succeeded in reaching the sea near Whale Island, and had the satisfaction of knowing that the tales of the Indians were true, though he was unable to use his knowledge for any practical purpose.

Meanwhile, Russia was busily opening up the north-east coast of Siberia, partly with a view to getting some control over the unmanageable Chukches, the only Siberian tribe who succeeded in resisting their somewhat rough and ready methods, and partly with a view to developing trade in that direction and to discovering whether or not the Asiatic and American continents were united. Many expeditions set out with these ends in view, among them being those of Ignatieff, Deshneff, Alexieff, and Ankudinoff, but of these it is impossible to give a detailed account here, and we need not take up the story of exploration in these regions until 1725, when the Great Northern Expedition, conceived by Peter the Great and carried into execution by the Empress Anne, set forth under the command of Vitus Bering, a Dane in the Russian service.

Immense difficulties had to be overcome before the expedition could start at all. Long overland journeys had to be made across Siberia, supplies had to be accumulated at Okhotsk and a vessel had to be built there, with the result that it was not until the end of June, 1727, that Spanberg, Bering’s assistant, was able to sail for Bolsheretsk in the Fortuna. Here more supplies had to be accumulated and a second ship built, which involved a delay of yet another year. At last, however, on July 24, 1728, Bering sailed gaily down the Kamchatka River, in the Gabriel, on his voyage of exploration. The preparations had extended over more than three years, and the voyage occupied about seven weeks, during which no discoveries whatever were made, so that the game seems to have been hardly worth the rather expensive candle. During the following summer he sallied out of his harbour once more, but he does not seem to have prosecuted his work with very much ardour, for he returned at the end of three days, during which he had sailed about a hundred miles. He then made his way to St Petersburg.

The Empress Anne seems to have been easily pleased, for although Bering had been away for five years and had accomplished nothing whatever, she gave orders that a second and even larger expedition should be placed under his command. The preparations for this voyage occupied some seven years, but at last, in September 1740, Bering was ready to start, and before winter closed in upon him he succeeded in rounding Kamchatka and reaching Avatcha, now known as Petropaulovsk; not a very remarkable voyage, perhaps, but a step in the right direction. There he spent the winter, and in June of the following year he started out in the St Peter, accompanied by the St Paul, under the command of Tschirikoff. Even now, however, he could not succeed in overcoming his passion for dawdling, and much valuable time was wasted in searching for the land of Gama, which, in point of fact, did not exist. At last, however, the two ships set their course north-east, and a few days later they parted company during a heavy fog. Both of them succeeded in making America, a feat, however, which had already been accomplished by Gwosdef during Bering’s absence at St Petersburg. Tschirikoff made the American coast on July 26, and after some exciting experiences, during which two parties who were sent ashore to explore were completely lost, he returned in safety to Petropaulovsk. Bering, who reached America three days later than his companion, was less fortunate. Caught by contrary winds and heavy gales, his vessel was ultimately stranded on Bering Island, where she broke up. Her commander, utterly disheartened, refused to eat or drink or to take shelter in the hut which had been constructed of driftwood, with the result that he died on December 19. The command of the party now devolved on Lieutenant Waxell, who, ably assisted by a brilliant young naturalist, named Steller, succeeded in bringing the party safely out of its quandary. Their stay on the island, though it was miserable in the extreme, had its compensations, for they found that the place abounded in the rare blue fox and the no less valuable sea-otter, of the skins of which the men secured such quantities that they took twenty thousand pounds’ worth home to Russia.

Bering did not succeed in discovering either the sea or the strait which have been named after him, but he mapped out a large tract of the Asiatic coast with some accuracy and opened up a trade which proved to be of immense value.

Up to the middle of the second half of the eighteenth century the efforts of navigators had, for the most part, been directed to finding a passage to the Indies either by the north-western or by the north-eastern route. Robert Thorne, it is true, had come forward with a bold plan for attempting to sail across the North Pole, but he had not succeeded in getting very far on his way, and the idea had been allowed to lapse. In 1773, however, the Earl of Sandwich, then First Lord of the Admiralty, having been approached upon the subject by the Royal Society, suggested to George III. that an expedition should be sent out to discover how far it was possible to sail in the direction of the Pole. The King was pleased with the idea, and preparations for the venture were at once set on foot. The Racehorse and the Carcase, two of the strongest ships of the day, were selected as being best suited for the purpose, and were fitted out as the ideas of the time dictated. The command was entrusted to Captain Constantine John Phipps, afterwards the second Lord Mulgrave, Captain Skiffington Lutwidge was appointed second in command, two masters of Greenland ships were attached to the expedition as pilots, and an astronomer, with all the latest instruments, was recommended by the Board of Longitude.

So far as actual achievements were concerned, there is nothing much to be recorded. Phipps was unfortunate in his year, and north of Spitzbergen he found a solid wall of ice which it was quite impossible for him to penetrate. He had the satisfaction, however, of reaching lat. 80° 48 N., a higher point than any of his predecessors. One episode deserves to be noticed as it came near causing the death of Nelson, who was serving in the humble capacity of captain’s coxswain. “One night,” says Southey, “during the mid-watch, he stole from the ship with one of his comrades, taking advantage of a rising fog, and set out over the ice in pursuit of a bear. It was not long before they were missed. The fog thickened, and Captain Lutwidge and his officers became exceedingly alarmed for his safety. Between three and four in the morning the weather cleared, and the two adventurers were seen, at a considerable distance from the ship, attacking a huge bear. The signal for them to return was immediately made; Nelson’s comrade called upon him to obey it, but in vain. His musket had flashed in the pan, their ammunition was expended, and a chasm in the ice, which divided him from the bear, probably preserved his life. ‘Never mind,’ he cried, ‘do but let me get a blow at the devil with the butt-end of my musket, and we shall have him.’ Captain Lutwidge, however, seeing his danger, fired a gun, which had the desired effect of frightening the beast; and the boy then returned, somewhat afraid of the consequences of his trespass. The captain reprimanded him sternly for conduct so unworthy of the office which he filled, and desired to know what motive he could have for hunting a bear. ‘Sir,’ said he, pouting his lip, as he was wont to do when agitated, ‘I wished to kill the bear that I might carry the skin to my father.’”

THE “RACEHORSE” AND THE “CARCASE” IN THE ICE
FROM A PICTURE BY J. CLIVELY

It was three years after the return of the Racehorse and Carcase that Captain Cook made his only expedition into the Arctic seas. His success in the Antarctic had led his friends in England to hope great things of his voyage through the Bering Strait, but, unfortunately, his two ships, the Resolution and the Discovery, proved but ill-adapted for service in the Arctic, and though he succeeded in charting a good deal of the unknown American coast, he made no approach to finding that North-West Passage for the discovery of which he had been set out. He had intended to return to the Arctic again with a view to prosecuting his discoveries there, but his death at Hawaii in 1779 prevented him from fulfilling his purpose, and his second in command, Captain Clerke, on whom the leadership of the expedition devolved, died of consumption at Petropaulovsk.

CHAPTER III
THE VOYAGE OF BUCHAN AND FRANKLIN

What with the American War and the Napoleonic Wars, our sailors had their hands so full at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries, that they had no time to spare for unnecessary exploration, and there is, in consequence, a hiatus of forty years in the story of Arctic discovery. In 1817, however, Captain William Scoresby, junior, one of the most famous of Scotch whalers, reported to Sir Joseph Banks that he had found nearly 2000 square leagues of the Spitzbergen Sea free from ice, and that he had, in consequence, been able to sight the eastern coast of Greenland, at a meridian usually considered inaccessible, adding that it would be greatly to the advantage of our whale fishery if expeditions were sent out to continue the work of exploration which had remained in abeyance for so long. Both Sir Joseph Banks and Sir John Barrow, then Secretary to the Admiralty, were much impressed by this report and it was through their representations that the Government decided to send out two expeditions in 1818, one of which was to make an effort to reach the Pole, while the other was to search for the elusive North-West Passage. The list of the officers of these two expeditions included six names which were destined to become famous all over the world for their Arctic work—those of Back, Beechey, Franklin, Parry, John Ross, and James C. Ross.

The ships detailed for the first of these two expeditions were the Dorothea (370 tons) and the Trent (250 tons), two stout whalers which were specially strengthened for work in the ice with all the extra wood and iron that they could carry. They were provisioned for two years, and the leadership of the expedition was entrusted to Captain Buchan, who sailed on the Dorothea, while Franklin commanded the Trent, with Beechey as his lieutenant. The object of the mission was scientific as well as geographical, and it was hoped that many useful investigations would be made into the atmospheric, meteorological, and magnetic phenomena of the unknown region which it was to traverse.

The expedition sailed on April 25, the Arctic circle was crossed on May 18, and Bear Island sighted on the 24th. Standing north for the south cape of Spitzbergen, the ships met with their first serious opposition from the ice. They succeeded in making their way through the belt, however, and they were soon lying in Magdalena Bay. Further progress north was summarily checked by a vast field of ice through which it was impossible to penetrate, for the moment at any rate. Accordingly, Buchan decided to spend some time in exploring Magdalena Bay, in the hope that the conditions would change, and that he would be able to pass through it. His second venture, however, met with no better success. Indeed, disaster very nearly cut short the career of the two ships, for, while they were coasting along the pack, the breeze suddenly dropped, and they were driven by the swell into the midst of the innumerable floes which were constantly being dashed by the rollers against the main sheet of ice. So fierce was the impact of these floes that they were crumbled to pieces, and for miles around the sea was covered with a thick pasty substance, known as brash ice, which often extended to a depth of five feet.

Fortunately, however, a breeze arose which carried them out of their dangerous predicament, and they were able to proceed on their way. Continuing their reconnaisance to the west, they found but little change in the condition of the pack, and they decided to desist for the present from their attempts to find a way through it. Accordingly they put about and made for Spitzbergen, where they found that the pack, though still impenetrable, had shifted a little, leaving a passage between it and the land. Rather unwisely, perhaps, Buchan attempted to make his way along this channel, and he had only just passed Red Cliff when the ice closed in upon him on every side, making it impossible for him either to advance or to retreat.

Here they remained for thirteen days with little to do except to observe the habits of the animals which appeared on all sides, and to indulge in a little hunting when the opportunity offered. In this connection Beechey tells a rather interesting story illustrating the ingenuity of the Polar bear. “Bears, when hungry,” he writes, “seem always on the watch for animals sleeping on the ice, and endeavour by stratagem to approach them unobserved: for, on the smallest disturbance, the animals dart through holes in the ice, which they always take care to be near, and thus evade pursuit. One sunshiny day a walrus, of nine or ten feet in length, rose in a pool of water not very far from us, and after looking round, drew his greasy carcase upon the ice, where he rolled about for a time, and at length laid himself down to sleep. A bear which had probably been observing his movements, crawled carefully upon the ice at the opposite side of the pool, and began to roll about also, but apparently more with design than amusement, as he progressively lessened the distance that intervened between him and his prey. The walrus, suspicious of his advances, drew himself up, preparatory to a precipitate retreat into the water, in case of a nearer acquaintance with his playful but treacherous visitor; on which the bear was instantly motionless as if in the act of sleep, but after a time began to lick his paws and clean himself, and occasionally to encroach a little more on his intended prey. But even this artifice did not succeed; the wary walrus was far too cunning to allow himself to be entrapped, and suddenly plunged in the pool.” The bears, however, were not always so unlucky in their hunting, for in the stomach of one that they killed they found a Greenlander’s garter.

Walrus hunting also afforded them a little sport, and on one occasion the crew were so unwise as to attack a herd in the ordinary ship’s boats. Immediately the walruses rose on all sides, and it was no easy matter to prevent them from staving in the sides of the boats with their tusks, or dragging them under water. “It was the opinion of our people,” says Beechey, “that in this assault the walruses were led by one animal in particular, a much larger and more formidable beast than any of the others; and they directed their efforts more particularly towards him, but he withstood all the blows of their tomahawks without flinching, and his tough hide resisted the entry of the whale lances, which were, unfortunately, not very sharp, and soon bent double. The herd were so numerous, and their attacks so incessant, that there was not time to load a musket, which, indeed, was the only mode of seriously injuring them. The purser fortunately had his gun loaded, and the whole crew being now nearly exhausted with chopping and sticking at their assailants, he snatched it up, and thrusting the muzzle down the throat of the leader, fired into his body. The wound proved mortal, and the animal fell back amongst his companions, who immediately desisted from the attack, assembled round him, and in a moment quitted the boat, swimming away as hard as they could with their leader, whom they actually bore up with their tusks, and assiduously prevented from sinking.”

The release which they had been praying for came at last, but it brought little improvement to their position, for a terrific gale arose which drove both the ships into the pack, with the result that half the timbers of the Trent were strained, while the Dorothea was reduced to something little better than a wreck. To attempt any further exploration was hopeless, so they made for Spitzbergen, where they found a safe anchorage in South Gat. Here the vessels were put into a state of repair, the officers in the meantime exploring the part of the island on which they found themselves, and making observations. On August 30 they put to sea once more, and arrived safely in England on October 22.

CHAPTER IV
ROSS’S FAILURES AND PARRY’S SUCCESSES

While Buchan and Franklin were in difficulties in the ice off Spitzbergen, Ross and Parry with the Isabella (385 tons) and the Alexander (252 tons) were searching the shores of Baffin’s Bay for the North-West Passage. They had set sail from Lerwick on May 3, and by the end of June they were past Disco Island. Here, through the medium of John Sackheuse, their invaluable interpreter, they opened up very friendly relations with the natives, in whose honour they gave a ball, which afforded immense entertainment to all concerned. After this, progress became slower, for the sea was cumbered with ice, and the crew were compelled to adopt the tedious expedient of “tracking” the ship through it, that is to say, of going ashore with a rope and dragging her through the obstruction. At the end of July, however, Ross succeeded in reaching Melville Bay, which proved to be one of the most important discoveries of the voyage, for the sea was full of whales, and has proved a lucrative hunting-ground for whalers ever since.

As they were nearing the northern shores of the Bay the voyage of the Isabella and the Alexander came near to being summarily ended by a terrific gale which drove the ice upon them in such quantities that they were almost overwhelmed by it. Fortunately they both survived, and shortly after the storm had subsided, a number of natives with dog-sleighs were seen in the distance. All attempts at enticing them nearer by means of presents proved vain, but eventually the interpreter, Sackheuse, succeeded in getting into communication with them. At first they were inclined to distrust the strangers, imagining that the ships were some kind of weird animals with wings which had come either from the sun or the moon, they could not be sure which, with the express object of doing them an injury. The misunderstanding, however, was eventually cleared up, and they were induced to visit the ships, where everything that they saw was a source of infinite interest to them, with the exception of the ship’s biscuit and salted meat, for which they expressed supreme disdain.

Pressing on north, the explorers found the sea fairly clear of ice, and they soon passed Cape Dudley Digges, Wolstenholme Island and Whale Sound, none of which had been visited since Baffin’s day, and which cartographers had thought fit to erase from the maps, believing that Baffin had been the victim of hallucinations.

It was just after he had passed the Canary Islands that Ross made his first great mistake. It must be remembered in his extenuation that he was totally inexperienced in Arctic travel, and that he was unused to the strange atmospheric phenomena and illusions which meet the voyager in these regions at every turn. Even in the short period of his stay in the Polar seas, however, he ought to have learnt enough to prevent him from being beguiled into the belief that Smith’s Sound was nothing but a bay headed by a huge range of impenetrable mountains. That, however, was the conclusion to which he came, and he made no effort to push further north than the entrance to the Sound. Had he done so he would, of course, have found that his mountains were nothing but weather-gleam.

He now put about and pushed south, taking very accurate bearings of the various headlands which he passed. In the course of his voyage he came upon the entrances to Jones and Lancaster Sounds, both of which he was deterred from exploring by more ranges of impenetrable mountains, through which, however, his own lieutenant, Parry, sailed with perfect ease in the following year.

He reached Grimsby on November 14, meeting with no adventures worth recording on the way home. His voyage had two great results. It opened up an enormous and most lucrative whale fishery in and around Melville Bay, and it vindicated Baffin’s position as an explorer. Otherwise it was a little disappointing, for if he had not been so obsessed with the idea that mountains hemmed him in on every side, he might have accomplished much more than he actually achieved.

In the narrative of his voyage, which he published after his return, Ross distinctly implies that his opinion as to the impossibility of finding a passage through any one of these three sounds was shared by the rest of his officers. This, however, appears to have been very far from the truth, as Parry’s journals and letters attest. At the time when the two vessels were cruising about in the mouth of Lancaster Sound they were some three miles apart, the Isabella being in advance. When the Isabella put about, the crew of the Alexander were positively amazed, for so far as they could discern, there was no land anywhere in sight.

The Admiralty seems to have had some inkling of the truth, for shortly after their return, Parry and Franklin were summoned into the presence of Lord Melville, and they gathered from the words that he let fall that he was of opinion that Lancaster Sound was a passage leading into some sea to the westward, an opinion which they heartily endorsed. The result was that, when it was decided to send out another expedition in the following spring, Parry was offered the command. This expedition was to consist of two ships, the Hecla, a bomb of 375 tons, and the Griper, a gunboat of 180 tons. Both of these ships were selected by Parry before he knew that he was to be placed in command, and it was under his supervision that they were put in thorough repair, and specially strengthened for work in the Arctic regions. Parry himself was to command the Hecla, while the Griper was to be entrusted to Lieutenant Liddon. The full complement of both ships was ninety-four, and the Admiralty had no difficulty in finding excellent seamen, for they offered double pay to all those who took part in the expedition. Captain Sabine, whose name subsequently became famous for his excellent scientific work, was appointed naturalist and astronomer, and among the officers were Lieutenants Beechey and Hoppner. The object of the mission, as stated in the Admiralty instructions, was to seek out a north-west passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific either through Lancaster, Jones or Smith Sounds.

The ships weighed anchor on May 5, 1819, and at first progress was slow, for the Griper proved such a bad sailor that the Hecla had to take her in tow. On the 23rd they sighted the ice of Davis Strait, and for a while they were obliged to bear to the eastward of it owing to its thickness. On July 21, however, Parry was able to set his course westwards, and eight days later they sighted the mountains at the southern entrance of Lancaster Sound.

Parry unquestionably had excellent luck at this part of his voyage. A good easterly breeze sprang up and the ships bowled merrily along under all the sail that they could carry. The sea was practically open, no land could be seen ahead, and the shores of the sound were thirteen leagues apart. The one and only drawback was the poor sailing powers of the Griper.

At midnight on August 4 the sun being then, of course, as bright as at midday, they reached long. 90, and here they were pulled up by a barrier of ice that stretched from shore to shore. The part of the sound in which he now found himself Parry named Barrow Strait, while to two islands which lay ahead of him he gave the names of Leopold Islands, after Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg. To the westward of the islands he perceived a bright light in the sky which is known to Arctic sailors as “ice-blink” and which told him that there was no chance of a passage in that direction; to the south of him, however, there was a broad open space and over it was a dark water-sky, so he determined that, as he could not push forward for the present, he would set his course southward.

The wind was favourable and the ships soon found themselves bowling along down an inlet at least ten leagues broad at the mouth, to which Parry subsequently gave the name of Prince Regent’s Inlet. He explored this inlet for about 120 miles in the hope that he might find a passage leading westward but in this he was disappointed, and perceiving presently that icebergs covered the whole of the westerly horizon, he put about, and on the 13th was once more off Leopold Islands. The sea was still covered with ice, but in a few days this obstruction had cleared away completely and he was able to make his way along the coast of North Devon.

The question of the continuity of land to the north had for some time been worrying Parry, for there was a possibility that it might take a turn to the south and join the coast of America. Presently, however, his eyes were gladdened by the sight of a broad passage leading to the north through which he hoped that he would be able to sail if it proved impossible for him to make his way further westward, and to which he gave the name of Wellington Channel. There was no necessity, however, to explore it yet, for their way was still open before them, and they sailed merrily along passing and naming, of course, at the same time, Cornwallis, Griffith and Bathurst Islands. Towards the end of August, however, the sea began to fill with ice, and Parry saw that it was high time for him to begin to look for winter quarters. These he eventually found in Hecla and Griper Bay, on the coast of Melville Island, and here the ships were made snug for the winter, though not until after the expedition had had the satisfaction of crossing the meridian 110° W., thus earning the reward of £5000 offered by the Government to the first British subject who should penetrate so far within the Arctic circle. They found that they were none too soon, for the bay, when they reached it, was already covered with a coating of ice, through which they had to carve a way for the ship with saws.

The work of putting the ships in order for the winter was instantly begun. The upper masts were dismantled, the lower yards were lashed fore and aft amidships and a roofing erected over the deck in order that the men might have a fairly warm house in which to take exercise when the rigours of the winter made it impossible for them to venture ashore. The question of how to provide his crew with that rational amusement which was absolutely necessary for them if they were to remain in good health next occupied Parry’s attention. He was himself an excellent amateur actor, and as there were a couple of books of plays on board, he promptly founded the Royal Arctic Theatre. The scene-painting and rehearsals kept officers and men occupied for weeks, and on November 5, the theatrical season opened with a brilliant performance of “Miss in her ’teens,” with Parry as Fribble, and Beechey as Miss Biddy.

At the same time, Sabine founded a weekly paper entitled the North Georgia Gazette and Winter Chronicle, to which most of the officers became regular contributors. Parry suddenly displayed poetic gifts of which he had never before been suspected, Sabine showed a perfect genius for dramatic criticism, while humorists galore sprang into being.

One or two extracts from the Gazette may here be quoted. In the issue of November 29, for example, we find an advertisement for “a middle-aged woman, not above thirty, of good character, to assist in DRESSING the LADIES at the THEATRE. Her salary will be handsome and she will be allowed tea and small beer into the bargain.” This drew forth a reply from Mrs Abigail Handicraft, who wrote as follows: “I am a widow, twenty-six years of age, and can produce undeniable testimonials of my character and qualifications; but before I undertake the business of dressing the ladies at the theatre, I wish to be informed whether it is customary for them to keep on their breeches; also if I may be allowed two or three of the stoutest able-seamen or marines, to lace their stays.” From the following issue we learn that Mrs Handicraft was duly engaged and that she was granted her two assistants who were to be equipped with “marline-spikes, levers, and white-line” for the reduction of Beechey’s waist to more reasonable proportions.

The theatricals, though they provided great amusement for the crew, were often conducted under great difficulties, for the temperature on the stage sometimes sank below zero, and on one occasion Captain Lyon, when playing in “The Heir-at-Law” had to go through the last act with two of his fingers frost-bitten.

CUTTING A PASSAGE INTO WINTER HARBOUR
FROM A SKETCH BY LIEUT. BEECHEY

At the beginning of February the sun returned once more, but it brought with it very little improvement in the temperature, and the thermometer sometimes sank as low as 55° below zero. Several of the men were badly frost-bitten, notably Smith, Sabine’s servant, who, in his anxiety to save the dipping needle from a fire which broke out in the observatory, ran out without putting on his gloves. As soon as he returned to the ship, the surgeon plunged his hands into a basin of icy water, the surface of which was immediately frozen by the cold thus communicated to it.

During the latter part of the winter some exceedingly beautiful atmospheric phenomena were seen. On March 4, for example, a halo appeared round the sun, consisting of a circle which glowed with prismatic colours. “Three parhelia, or mock suns, were distinctly seen upon this circle; the first being directly over the sun and one on each side of it, at its own altitude. The prismatic tints were much more brilliant in the parhelia than in any other part of the circle; but red, yellow and blue were the only colours which could be traced, the first of these being invariably next the sun in all the phenomena of this kind observed. From the sun itself, several rays of white light, continuous but not very brilliant, extended in various directions beyond the halo, and these rays were more bright after passing through the circle than within it. This singular phenomenon remained visible nearly two hours.”

On March 19 the theatrical season came to an end with performances of “The Citizen” and “The Mayor of Garratt,” in which Parry took the parts of old Philpot and Matthew Mug. The severest part of the winter was now over, but the ice showed as yet no signs of breaking up. Indeed, though a great deal of the snow melted during April and May, there seemed to be no chance either of continuing the voyage or of returning to England. June passed, and brought no prospect of release, and Parry began to fear that he was doomed to spend another winter in the ice, an eventuality for which he was but ill prepared. Towards the end of July, however, the thaw began to have its effect upon the ice of the harbour, and on August 1 the two ships were able to weigh anchor and sail out of the bay.

They were not destined, however, to achieve much more. For several weeks they were checked by contrary winds and battered by the ice, till at last, on August 23, Parry decided that, as the season for navigation would be coming to an end in a fortnight, he had better return to England. This he accordingly proceeded to do, and the two ships reached Peterhead in safety on October 29.

CHAPTER V
FRANKLIN’S FIRST OVERLAND JOURNEY

It is now necessary to return to Parry’s friend and fellow explorer, John Franklin, who, it will be remembered, was summoned into Lord Melville’s presence with Parry on November 18, 1818. The results of this interview were that while Parry was appointed to the command of the Hecla and Griper, Franklin was commissioned to undertake the no less important overland expedition to explore the shores of the North American continent from the mouth of the Coppermine River eastward.

The members of this expedition were five in number, and consisted of Franklin himself, Dr John Richardson, a surgeon in the navy, George Back, who had sailed as mate in the Trent with Franklin in 1818, Robert Hood, a midshipman, and John Hepburn, a sailor who was to act as servant. The object was to survey the coast carefully, to place conspicuous marks at the points at which ships might enter, and to deposit such information as to the nature of the coast as might be of service to Parry if he should actually succeed in finding a north-west passage. Franklin was also to conduct a series of scientific observations, making careful notes of the changes in the temperature, the state of the wind and weather, the dip and variation of the magnetic needle, and the intensity of the magnetic force. In order that his chance of success might be as great as possible, he was provided with letters of recommendation from the Governors of the two great fur-trading companies of British North America—the Hudson’s Bay Company and the North-West Company—in which the agents were ordered to do their utmost, by every means and in every way, to forward the interests of the expedition.

Franklin’s first care on reaching Hudson’s Bay was to proceed to York Factory, where he consulted a number of officials, among them being Mr Williams, the Governor of the Factory, as to the best way of reaching the mouth of the Coppermine, where, of course, the serious work of his expedition was to begin. They were decidedly of opinion that he should proceed to Cumberland House, and thence travel northwards along the chain of the Company’s posts to the Great Slave Lake.

This route is practically a water-way, though the portages separating the various streams and lakes of which it is composed are almost numberless. Mr Williams, therefore, offered to provide the expedition with one of the Company’s best boats, together with a large store of provisions and the other things necessary for the journey, an offer which, needless to say, was promptly accepted. Unfortunately, when these stores were brought down to the beach they were found to be of too great a bulk to be accommodated in the boat, so that a large portion of them, including the bacon and part of the rice, flour, ammunition, and tobacco, had to be left behind, the Governor promising to send them on during the next season.

They set out on September 9, and they found that, though their journey took them through very beautiful scenery, it was of the most arduous description. The rivers were narrow, winding, and full of rapids, while the current was frequently so swift that the use of sails or oars was out of the question, and the boat had to be towed, a method of progression which would have been pleasant enough had not the shores been lofty and rocky and intersected by ravines and tributary streams. In addition to this, there were the innumerable portages to be reckoned with, and their progress was in consequence slow in the extreme.

At last they reached Rock House, one of the posts of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and there they were informed that still worse rapids lay before them, and that the boat must be lightened if they were to reach Cumberland House before the winter set in. Franklin was therefore obliged to leave still more of his cargo there, with orders for it to be forwarded by the Athabasca canoes as early in the following season as possible.

Proceeding on their way, they reached Cumberland House on October 23, and here they found the ice already forming on the lake, and learnt that it would be impossible for them to travel any further that season. Accordingly, when Governor Williams arrived a few days later and suggested that they should all winter at Cumberland House, they gladly fell in with the idea. On talking matters over, however, with the officers of the two great Companies, both of which had posts on the lake, Franklin came to the conclusion that by far his best plan would be to push on overland during the winter into the Athabasca Department, where alone he could obtain the guides, hunters, and interpreters necessary for the success of his expedition. Accordingly, he requested Mr Williams to provide him with dogs, sledges, and drivers for the conveyance of himself and his two companions, Back and Hepburn. They started on January 18, 1820, and after a most unpleasant journey of 857 miles, in cold so intense that newly-made tea used to freeze in the tin pots before they had time to drink it, they reached Fort Chepewyan, on Athabasca Lake, on March 26. There Franklin spent several months, picking up such information as he could concerning the course of the Coppermine River and the coast about its mouth from the Indians and interpreters of the two Companies. The results of his investigations were fairly satisfactory, and he decided to send messages to the Companies’ representatives on the Great Slave Lake, asking them to provide him with any knowledge that they could collect, and to engage a number of Copper Indians as guides and hunters.

On May 10 mosquitoes, these early harbingers of spring, put in an appearance, and Franklin realised that the time was approaching for him to make a move onwards. It was no easy matter, however, to obtain the stores and men that he needed. The provisions collected at the Fort were not much in excess of the actual needs of the inhabitants, while the employées of the Company were very unwilling to engage with his expedition except at an extortionate remuneration.

On July 13 Richardson and Hood arrived upon the scene, bringing with them all the provisions that they had been able to collect at Cumberland House and Isle à la Crosse. These, however, did not amount to much as the Canadian voyagers belonging to the Hudson’s Bay post had eaten all the pemmican intended for the explorers, while ten of the bags of provisions which they had secured at the latter post proved so mouldy that they had to be thrown away. Consequently the travellers were obliged to start out very badly equipped in the matter of supplies. There was, however, no possibility of delaying their departure, as Fort Chipewyan did not at the time afford sufficient means of subsistence for so large a party. Accordingly, the stores were distributed among the three canoes with which Franklin had been furnished, and on July 18 he set forth on his way with his party, which now consisted of four officers, sixteen Canadian voyagers, two interpreters, and the redoubtable Hepburn.

At the end of the month they reached Fort Providence, where they were met by Mr Wentzel, an agent of the North-West Company, who proposed to engage hunters for them, and who was himself to accompany them to the Coppermine River. Negotiations with a party of hunters under one Akaitcho, or Big Foot, were soon satisfactorily completed, and though the Indians were a little disappointed at learning that the great English medicine men were unable to bring certain dead members of their tribe to life again, a rumoured accomplishment of their new friends on which they had founded great hopes, they were soon won over by sundry cheap medals and other small presents, and promised to work heart and soul for the good of the expedition. On August 2 the party set forth, now slightly augmented by an extra interpreter, Michel, an Iroquois, Mr Wentzel and the womankind of three of the voyagers who were to make shoes and clothes for the men while they were in winter quarters. On August 19 they reached the spot on which the Indians had settled as most suitable for the winter establishment.

There was now every sign that winter would be on them before long, so Franklin set his men to work on the building of the store house, and sent out his Indian hunters to obtain all the fresh meat that they could. The hunters, however, proved but broken reeds. During the expedition Akaitcho heard of the death of his brother-in-law, and his whole party was, apparently, so overcome by the sad news that they spent several days in wailing and lamentations, with the result they only succeeded in killing fifteen deer. Moreover, this family bereavement necessitated the removal of another portion of Akaitcho’s tribe, which was to have stored up provisions on the bank of the Coppermine, to a place miles away from the proposed route.

To complete Franklin’s discomfiture, Akaitcho absolutely refused to accompany him on a preliminary excursion to the Coppermine, saying that at that time of the year such a journey would be hazardous in the extreme. After painting its horrors and dangers in highly picturesque language, he further fulfilled his rôle of Job’s comforter by saying that if Franklin were really bent upon the trip it was, of course, the duty of the Indians to render him all the help that they could. He would, therefore, allow some of the younger members of his tribe to accompany him, adding that from the moment that they set forth he and his relatives would mourn them as dead. In spite of Akaitcho’s pessimism, however, the expedition returned without losing a single one of its members, and the Indian’s lamentations were entirely wasted.

By October 20 the house was completed and the party moved in. It was a log building, 50 feet long and 24 feet wide, consisting of a hall, three bedrooms, and a kitchen. It was not exactly impervious to the cold winds, for the clay with which the walls were daubed cracked as it was put on and admitted the air freely; compared with the tents, however, it was luxurious. The weather was now bitter, and hunting was over for the season. The store-house was fairly well stocked, while the carcases of eighty deer were stowed away at various distances from the house en cache, that is to say, covered with heavy loads of wood and stones so that the wolves and wolverines could not get at them. Franklin, however, was growing very uneasy at the shortage of ammunition and tobacco. The former was, of course, absolutely necessary for the bare existence of the party, while the Canadians, who were great smokers, had stipulated for a liberal supply of the latter. The officials of the two companies, however, had not fufilled their promises, and had failed to forward the stores with which they had pledged themselves to provide him. The only possible solution to the difficulty was to send some members of the party back for the supplies, and accordingly, on October 18, Back and Wentzel, with two Indians and two Canadians, set out on the long journey to Fort Providence.

The first detachment of this party returned on December 23, but the last did not put in an appearance till the middle of March, after travelling over 1000 miles on foot. Some idea of the difficulties which Back encountered may be gathered from the facts that he frequently passed two or three days without taking food, and that he was obliged to sleep in the woods with no other covering than a blanket and a deerskin, while the thermometer stood at 40° and once at 57° below zero. He had found that the supplies had not been forwarded simply through the gross neglect of some of the officials of the two trading companies. One of the Hudson’s Bay officers, for example, being indisposed to burden his canoe with the stores which had been entrusted to his care, had incontinently heaped them up on the shore and left them there, quite regardless of the sufferings that this action was likely to bring upon the expedition. Eventually, however, sufficient supplies reached the party to place them beyond the danger of immediate want.

The chief work of the expedition was to begin in June, and on the 4th the first party, under Dr Richardson, sallied forth from Fort Enterprise, taking the land route northward. Ten days later a second party started with two canoes laid on trains, intending to strike the water at Winter Lake, which was not far distant. They were followed almost immediately by the third party, under Franklin, which brought with it the instruments, the remainder of the stores, and a small stock of dried meat. The fates seemed to be against the expedition from the very start, for when Franklin came up with the canoe party at Martin Lake, he found that the hunters had only killed two deer, and that though these had been placed en cache, they had both been consumed by wolverines. Worse still, when he joined Richardson on the 21st he learned that Akaitcho and his son had expended all their ammunition and had nothing whatever to show for it. The doctor, assisted by his two hunters, had fortunately been able to secure and prepare 200 lbs. of dried meat, but this constituted practically all the stores they had for their long journey.

By July 12 they had reached the boundaries of the Eskimo territory, and the Indians, who were at constant war with these natives, refused point blank to go any further; so all that Franklin could do was to dismiss them, after extracting from them a solemn promise to lay in a good stock of provisions at Fort Enterprise against their return. A few hours later the sea was reached, and here Franklin parted with Wentzel and two of the Canadians, thus reducing his party to twenty men. His plan was to explore the coast as far east of the Coppermine as possible. If the conditions allowed he would return to the river; if not, he intended to strike north across a rocky desert known as the Barren Grounds, and to make for Fort Enterprise. Wentzel was requested to see that an ample supply of meat was provided at the fort for the party on its return.

The band of twenty now found themselves at the mouth of the Coppermine, 334 miles from their headquarters, with only sufficient provisions for fifteen days. On July 21 they launched their two frail canoes and set out upon the eastward voyage. It is scarcely necessary for us to concern ourselves with the details of this trip. That it was dangerous goes without saying, for the thin sides of their vessels afforded but the most inadequate protection against the masses of ice which they were constantly encountering. For five weeks, however, they pressed onwards, taking observations and naming all the principal capes, islands, and bays for 650 miles along the coast. It was on August 16 when they had reached Point Turnagain, lat. 68° 18′ N. long. 109° 25′ W., that Franklin determined that it was time to put about. The open season was wearing on, the canoes were in a terrible state of disrepair, and the shortage of provisions was such as to cause serious anxiety. During the earlier part of the voyage the interpreters, St Germain and Adam, had been very successful with the gun, but their bags were growing smaller by degrees and beautifully less, the fact of the matter being, of course, that they had always regarded the expedition with strong disapproval and were anxious to compel it to return.

Consequently the canoes put about, and, after a most perilous journey, they entered Hood’s River on August 25. The river, unfortunately, was too shallow and swift to allow them to proceed further by water, so Franklin took his canoes to pieces and constructed out of the materials two smaller canoes, each of them easily portable. By the last day of the month these preparations were completed, and the impedimenta, which consisted of ammunition, nets, hatchets, ice-chisels, astronomical instruments, three kettles, two canoes, and a tent, were divided up among the members of the party, each of whom had to carry a burden of about ninety pounds.

For the first few days of their journey they followed the course of the Hood, but soon the river curved westward and it was found necessary to strike inland across the desolate Barren Grounds, whose only recommendation was that they were comparatively flat, and that the heavily burdened party was spared the necessity of stumbling up hills and down valleys such as lined the course of the stream. Apart from this, the land over which they had to journey was as unattractive as could well be imagined. For miles and miles ahead and on either side of them stretched a vast, stony waste, on which not a trace of a living creature was to be seen. Of vegetation there was little or none, wood was conspicuous by its absence, and it was only on the rarest occasions that they were able to indulge in the luxury of a fire. The prospect was truly most uninviting.

They had only been a single day on their journey across this forbidding country when the terrible truth dawned upon them that the winter had set in unusually early, and that their dangers and sufferings were, in consequence, to be increased a hundredfold. The first news of this was brought to them by a terrible gale which arose in the night, and continued to blow with such violence that it was useless for them to attempt to fight against it, and they had no choice but to remain in their tents. For two days they lay in their blankets, shivering with the cold and with the pangs of hunger gnawing at them, for their provisions were now well nigh exhausted, and they had little left but some portable soup and arrowroot, which they were obliged to husband with the utmost care. By the morning of the 7th the gale had abated but little, and the cold was still intense. However, they had to choose between two alternatives. Either they must push on in the teeth of the hurricane, or they must be frozen to death where they lay, and the former naturally seemed preferable. Heavily laden as they were, in the most favourable circumstances they could only march at the rate of a mile an hour, but now their progress was infinitely slower, for the ground was covered a foot deep with snow, and the marshes and swamps were crusted with a thin coating of ice which frequently gave way beneath them.

The storm was still raging so violently that the Canadians, who took it in turn to carry the boats, were often blown down, and the larger of the two boats was soon smashed to pieces. From what Franklin knew of the character of the voyagers he was inclined to believe that the accident was by no means a mere misadventure, but that the canoe had been broken purposely to save the labour of further transportation. However, he could only make the best of a bad business, so he built a fire of the fragments, and over it he cooked the last of his arrowroot and soup.

So for many tedious days they plodded wearily on, subsisting as best they could upon an occasional partridge and a species of edible lichen called tripe de roche, which grew upon the boulders—a poor sustenance for twenty starving men. The lichen, moreover, though it allayed the pangs of hunger for a while, was exceedingly bitter to the palate and positively noxious to several members of the hapless party.

CROSSING THE BARREN GROUNDS
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPT. BACK

Their physical sufferings grew more and more terrible every day. Hunger was not the only hardship with which they had to contend, for their course was constantly intersected by swamps through which they had to wade, and, as the thermometer was always below freezing point, their wet clothes were instantly frozen as stiff as boards, making walking more painful than ever. Once or twice they were fortunate enough to fall in with a herd of musk-oxen or a stray deer, but the supply was totally inadequate to the demand, and for the most part they were obliged to subsist on tripe de roche, which hardly a single member of the little band could now eat without becoming ill. On September 10 they came upon a large lake, and Franklin’s drooping hopes were revived by the prospect of being able to supplement his provisions with a supply of fish. To his dismay, however, he now learnt that the Canadians, with criminal selfishness, had thrown away the nets and burnt the floats in order to decrease the burdens which they had to carry, an action which was all the more amazing seeing that, in their capacity of voyagers to the trading companies, they frequently found themselves in situations where they were obliged to depend on fishing for their means of subsistence.

These Canadians, however, with the exception of a man named Perrault, proved a terrible thorn in Franklin’s side from the beginning to the end of the journey. They committed their crowning act of folly when they destroyed the second canoe, which, though very crazy, was the sole means of transport across the rivers and lakes. This loss was most seriously felt when, a little later, the party came to the bank of the Coppermine and found themselves unable to reach the other side. Precious days were wasted in attempting to construct a raft or to find a ford, during which time they were obliged to live on the putrid carcase of a deer that had fallen into a cleft in a rock in the previous spring. Rafts and fords failing, Richardson made a gallant effort to swim the river with a line round his waist, and, in spite of the numbing cold of the water, he almost reached the other side. Then his strength failed him and he came within an ace of being drowned. He was dragged ashore just in time to save his life, but he felt the effects of his adventure till late in the following spring. At last, after repeated attempts, the whole party succeeded in crossing in a canoe made of the painted canvas in which they had wrapped their bedding, but the vessel was so frail that it could only carry one person at a time.

Back and three of the Canadians now went on ahead to search for the Indians and to see that everything was in readiness at the Fort. For another day the rest of the party struggled on, gaining what sustenance they could from the lichen and their old shoes. It soon became evident, however, that Hood and two of the Canadians, Credit and Vaillant, were growing so weak that they could march no further, and it was decided that the party must split up once more, and that the weaker members must remain behind with Richardson and Hepburn to attend to them, while Franklin and a few companions pushed on to the Fort. In the course of the following day a small thicket of willows was reached, and here it was decided to form the encampment. The Canadians, however, had not been able to struggle even that far, and had been left behind in the snow. “Some faint hopes were entertained of Credit’s surviving the storm,” says Franklin, “as he was provided with a good blanket and had some leather to eat.”

Hardly had Franklin started on his way when three of his voyagers, Belanger, Perrault, and Fontano, and Michel, the Iroquois, broke down, and had to return to the encampment in the willows. With his four remaining comrades he marched doggedly on, and at last, to his inexpressible relief, his destination came in sight. But any hopes that he entertained of finding release from the sufferings of himself and his men, were destined to be dashed to the ground, for they stumbled into the Fort, only to find it cheerless and desolate, with no store of provisions and no indications as to the whereabouts of the Indians. Back had reached the Fort two days earlier, and had left a note to say that he had gone in search of Akaitcho and his dilatory hunters, but apart from this, there was no sign that the house had been entered since Franklin was last there.

Words cannot describe the bitter disappointment of these brave men, who, after their long and dogged fight against adversity, found themselves face to face with a death no less fearful than that which had threatened them on the Barren Grounds. With the exception of a few deerskins which had been thrown away as offal during their former residence at the Fort, there was nothing wherewith they could sustain life, while the winter storms had played such havoc with the walls and windows of the house that they let in the bitter air freely, and the temperature of the living room ranged from 15° to 20° below zero.

There was nothing for them to do but to bear their sufferings as best as they could, and to await relief from the faithless Akaitcho and his hunters. That relief, however, was not destined to come yet, for two days later, they received a note from Back, telling them that he had been unable to find the Indians, and asking for further instructions. Weak though he was, Franklin now felt that the time had come for action, and he accordingly decided to set out himself for Fort Confidence, accompanied by two of his men, Augustus, an Eskimo interpreter, and Benoit, one of the voyagers. He had only been two days on his journey, however, when he had the misfortune to break one of his shoes, and was obliged to turn back to his comfortless hut, leaving his two companions to push on as best they could. It was, perhaps, as well that he did so, for, on reaching the Fort, he found that the two Canadians whom he had left behind were growing so weak that they had resigned themselves to what seemed to them the inevitable, and had lain down to die. Franklin’s splendid example, however, infused fresh courage into them, and by dint of the utmost exertions they succeeded in keeping the life in their bodies, although they were now so feeble that when a herd of deer appeared within half a mile of them, they were quite unable to shoot them.

On the 29th, as they were crouching round a miserable fire, they were surprised to hear voices in the next room. Their first thought was that the Indians had at last come to their rescue. A moment later Richardson and Hepburn entered.

The arrival of these friends brought some fresh hope to the starving men at Fort Enterprise, for Hepburn was stronger than the rest, and there was every prospect that he would be able to find them some means of subsistence. But the sight of those two men standing there alone sent a chill to Franklin’s heart. What, he asked, had become of Hood and Credit and Michel and Vaillant? The answer which he received on the following day was more terrible than his worst fears had led him to anticipate. Briefly put, Richardson’s story ran thus.

On the morning of October 9, that is to say, two days after Franklin had started off for Fort Enterprise, Michel, the Iroquois, returned to the encampment alone, with the news that Belanger, with whom he had started, had left him on the way. There was every reason to suspect, however, both from the story that he told them, and from his subsequent behaviour, that he had made away with the Canadian, and that he had invented this tale to conceal the horrible sequel to his crime. From this time onward his conduct became more and more suspicious. He grew sullen and morose, he refused to go hunting, or, if he went, he would only go by himself, taking his hatchet with him, unlike a hunter, who only makes use of his knife when he kills deer. “This fact,” says Richardson, “seems to indicate that he took it for the purpose of cutting up something that he knew to be frozen.” At last, by a culminating act, he confirmed the suspicions which had already come to birth in the minds of Richardson and Hepburn, for, on Sunday, October 20, when left alone with Hood, he deliberately shot his companion through the head.

In their weak condition it was, of course, impossible for either the doctor or the sailor to wreak summary vengeance upon the murderer, although self-preservation demanded it. Accordingly, they buried Michel’s victim, and on the 23rd this party of three—for none of the others had succeeded in reaching the camp—decided to set out for the Fort. It now became so painfully evident that the Iroquois intended his two companions to share the fate of his former victims, that there was only one course open to them. Accordingly, Richardson seized on an opportunity when Michel was not expecting an attack, to shoot him through the head with a pistol.

After six more days of indescribable sufferings they reached the fort, only, as we have seen, to find Franklin and the Canadians in no better a case than themselves. During the next few days the Canadians, Peltier and Samandré, succumbed, and their friends would inevitably have followed them before long had not help arrived on November 7. On that day three Indians, who had been found by Back, put in an appearance, and, though it was, of course, long before the sufferers recovered their health and strength, their troubles were practically at an end. They left Fort Enterprise on November 16, and, travelling by easy stages, they reached Moose Deer Island on December 18, where they were joined by Back, who had himself gone through a period of fearful hardship and privation during his search for succour.

In the summer of the following year Franklin returned to England, having accomplished a terrible journey of some 5500 miles. The result of his observations, of course, added greatly to the world’s store of knowledge of the then unknown regions of North America; but he would have had a different tale to tell had not the rivalry between the two trading companies handicapped him from start to finish.

CHAPTER VI
PARRY’S LAST NORTH-WEST VOYAGES

We must now return to Parry, who, it will be remembered, landed in England on October 1820, after making a number of most valuable discoveries in Lancaster Sound. The results of his voyage had been so encouraging that the Government determined to prepare another expedition for the following year. It was only natural to suppose, however, that any further attempts to find a North-West passage through Lancaster Sound would be rendered abortive by the ice, which seemed to form an absolutely impenetrable barrier across the westward entrance, and it was consequently decided to seek a passage by a more southerly route, in the hope that the climate would be more temperate and the ice less of an obstruction.

On the first expedition the Hecla had proved herself an excellent ship, but the Griper, owing to her poor sailing qualities, had been less of a success. Her place was taken, therefore, by the Fury, to which Parry himself was commissioned, while Captain George Francis Lyon, an officer of great ability, who was especially noted for the excellence of his drawings, was placed in command of the Hecla.

So popular was Parry that hardly had the news of his appointment been published than he was besieged by volunteers, among them being many members of his previous expedition. The latter included Lieutenants Hoppner, Mias, and Reid, James Clark Ross, a midshipman who had already had considerable experience of Arctic travel, and who was destined subsequently to win fame for himself by the discovery of the magnetic pole; and Mr Edwards, Parry’s former surgeon. In all, the party consisted of 118 officers and men.

Parry set sail at the end of April with instructions to make direct for Hudson’s Strait. Thence he was to sail westward until he should reach some part of the mainland of North America. On striking the coast he was to turn northward, and to examine every bay and inlet which might seem to afford a passage to the west, thus practically taking up the work of exploration where it had been dropped by Captain Middleton, who, in 1742, discovered Wager Inlet, and penetrated as far north as Cape Hope, near the entrance to Repulse Bay.

He reached Southampton Island on April 27, and after some delay occasioned by the ice, he succeeded in passing through Frozen Strait and making Repulse Bay. Up till that day the precise nature of the bay had never been determined, and it was believed by many to be in reality the entrance to a strait. Parry, however, soon discovered that it was actually a bay, and he accordingly turned northward in pursuit of his quest for a western passage. The coast along which he was now sailing was so broken that his progress was necessarily slow, and when the beginning of October came he found himself no further north than the entrance to Lyon Inlet. The work that he did during those six weeks, however, though terribly tedious, was of immense value, for he mapped out every mile of a coast-line which had never been explored before.

It was now too late in the season for him to make much further progress that year, so he set sail to the south-east with a view to discovering comfortable winter quarters on the south side of Winter Island. On October 8, after a dangerous voyage through the ice, he found a bay which seemed admirably adapted for the purpose, and here, accordingly, he hove too and put everything ship-shape and in order for the long winter months.

Of the manner in which the crew beguiled their time it is unnecessary to speak at length. The theatrical performances, which had proved so successful on the previous voyage, were repeated, concerts were held, and everything possible was done to ward off that archenemy of the Arctic explorer, the scurvy. At the same time, of course, scientific observations were carried on without intermission.

At the beginning of February a party of Eskimos put in an appearance, and the explorers were astonished to find that a complete village had sprung up in their neighbourhood with a rapidity which is generally supposed to be the sole prerogative of castles in fairy stories. The explanation was that not a single material was employed in the construction of the huts except snow and ice. The natives proved exceptionally friendly and rather less greedy than most of their race. As a rule the first Eskimo word that the uninitiated traveller is taught is “pilletay”—“give me”—which springs to a native’s lips whenever his eyes light upon an object which he has not seen before.

The usual presentations of beads and nails formed a part of the introductory ceremonial. The recipients of these gifts were wont to display their gratitude in a manner that was not a little embarrassing, for when they were given anything they went off into fits of hysterical screaming or laughter, varied by the women with periods of weeping.

Apart from increasing their knowledge of the habits of the Eskimos, the explorers gained but little information that was of any value to them, and they learned nothing of that passage to the west for which they were seeking. One of the women was able to draw a rough map of the coast for some miles northward of Repulse Bay, and, in attempting to verify it, Captain Lyon very nearly lost his life in a snowstorm. Otherwise, however, the winter was marked by no event that need be recorded. On July 2, 1822, the two ships sailed out of their winter quarters and pursued their journey northward.

Occasionally the work of mapping out the coast, which, of course, occupied most of their attention, was varied by a little walrus-hunting, which proved to be excellent sport. Some idea of the strength of these creatures may be gathered from the fact that, in a big battue in which they indulged on July 15, one of the boats was seriously damaged by a walrus’s tusks, while another of the creatures, being accidentally touched by an oar, wrenched it out of the rower’s hand with its flippers and broke it in two. The largest of the animals killed on that day weighed fifteen hundredweight and a half.

In such a way as this was the whole of the summer spent, and the arrival of winter found them as far as ever from the discovery of the North-West Passage. Parry spent the dark months off the Island of Igloolik, intending to continue his work during the following summer. An outbreak of scurvy, however, compelled him to change his plans, and, cutting short his voyage, to return to England, which he reached early in October.

In the following year Parry started out on his third and last search for the North-West Passage. The plan of the expedition was to explore Prince Regent’s Inlet, but the ice was bad and the weather was unfavourable, with the result that he had barely reached the scene of his labours when winter set in. In the following year he was even more unfortunate, for the Fury was driven ashore in a gale and he was obliged to leave her to her fate, taking her men and such of her stores as he could find room for on board the Hecla. He had now no choice but to return home, as, with so many mouths to feed and so little to feed them with, he dared not risk another winter in the ice. It is worthy of mention, however, that the stores left behind on the ship and on the shore proved the salvation of several later expeditions.

THE WALRUS AS SEEN BY OLAUS MAGNUS

By no means the least valuable of the pieces of information brought back by Parry was that, while the eastern coast of any land in the Arctic regions is almost invariably encumbered with heavy ice, the western coast is, in ordinary years, comparatively free—a discovery of which navigators have taken the fullest advantage ever since.

CHAPTER VII
FRANKLIN’S SECOND LAND JOURNEY

In no way deterred by the terrible dangers which he had encountered in his first journey, Franklin had scarcely returned home when he laid before the Government a scheme for a second expedition which was, according to his idea, to proceed “overland to the mouth of the Mackenzie River and thence, by sea, to the north-western extremity of North America, with the combined object, also, of surveying the coast between the Mackenzie and Coppermine Rivers.” It was hoped at the same time that, if Parry’s party succeeded in winning through to the Polar Sea, the two expeditions might prove of mutual service to one another.

Franklin’s plan found favour in the eyes of the Government, and he was immediately appointed to the command of the new expedition with authority to make such preparations as seemed proper to him. Warned by his previous experiences, he resolved to run no risks, and accordingly arranged a system of supplies which would remove all possibility of starvation, and superintended the construction of a number of boats which would be better able to withstand the ardours of navigation in the Polar Seas than the birch-bark canoes which he had previously employed.

The boats were four in number. Three of them varied from twenty-four to twenty-six feet in length, while the fourth, which was called the Walnut Shell, was nine feet by four feet four and only weighed eighty-four pounds, being so constructed that it could be taken to pieces and made up into five or six parcels.

The party consisted of Franklin, Lieutenant Back, Dr Richardson (assistant-surveyor), and Mr Thomas Drummond (assistant-naturalist), with four mariners; and their plan of campaign was to be as follows: They were to sail to New York, and thence they were to make their way by a series of lakes and rivers to the Great Bear Lake, where they were to take up their quarters for the winter. As soon as the open season began they were to divide into two parties, one of which was to travel westward from the mouth of the Mackenzie, and, if possible, was to round Icy Cape and meet H.M.S. Blossom in Kotzebue’s Inlet. The other was to turn eastward from the Mackenzie, and to explore the coast as far as the mouth of the Coppermine. Having reached that river, it was to return to the Great Bear Lake overland.

The first part of the journey was accomplished without misadventure, and on August 7, 1825, Franklin found himself at Fort Norman on the Mackenzie, near which point a tributary stream joins the river with the Great Bear Lake. The season was still so open that he decided to examine the river between Fort Norman and the sea before retiring into winter quarters, so he sent the main body of the expedition to the lake, with orders to erect the necessary buildings, while he and Mr Kendall set off downstream.

They raced along with the stream at a great pace, and on August 16 they reached Ellice Island, lat. 69° 14′, long. 135° 56′. They were now on the very shore of the Polar Sea, and to their indescribable delight they found the ocean absolutely free from ice, and, to all appearances, perfectly navigable.

At this point a somewhat touching incident took place. In 1823 Franklin had married a Miss Eleanor Purdon, to whom he was absolutely devoted. While he was making the preparations for his journey his wife fell ill, and to while away the hours of her sickness she made him a small silken Union Jack which she gave him with injunctions never to unfurl it until he planted it on the shores of the Polar Sea. A few days after he set sail she died, and he received the news of his bereavement soon after he reached America. The story of the unfurling of her flag may be told in his own words:—

“The men,” he wrote, “had pitched the tent, and I caused the silk Union Jack to be hoisted, which my deeply lamented wife had made and presented to me as a parting gift, under the express condition that it was not to be unfurled before the expedition reached the Polar Sea. I will not attempt to describe my emotions as it expanded to the breeze—however natural, and, for the moment, irresistible, I felt that I had no right, by the indulgence of my own sorrows, to cloud the animated countenances of my companions. Joining, therefore, with the best grace that I could command in the general excitement, I endeavoured to return, with corresponding cheerfulness, their warm congratulations on having thus planted the British flag on this remote island of the Polar Sea.”

Extra grog was served out to the men, and Franklin and Kendall prepared to celebrate the event in a little brandy which they had reserved for the occasion. Unfortunately, however, the Canadian guide, Baptiste, had, in the excitement of the moment, provided them with salt water instead of fresh, and they had to use the brandy in the more classical form of a libation poured on the ground.

Franklin then erected a flag-staff, and deposited under it a letter containing information concerning the nearest station of the Hudson Bay Company for the use of Parry, in the event of his reaching the mouth of the Mackenzie. This done, he set out on the return journey to the Great Bear Lake, which he reached on September 4.

He found that the winter quarters had been completed during his absence, and that they had already been named Fort Franklin in his honour. The party had been increased to fifty by fresh arrivals, and, as they would have to depend largely upon fish for their food supply during the winter months, and it was useless to expect to catch sufficient for so many mouths at any one spot, two additional houses were erected, four and seven miles away. At the Fort itself fifteen to twenty nets were kept in constant use, and fish were so plentiful that the catches averaged from three hundred to eight hundred a day during the summer and winter.

Only once, towards the end of the winter, was the food supply in any danger of failing, and it was found necessary to put the party on short rations for a while. Fortunately, however, at the critical moment the deer put in an appearance, and Franklin was relieved from all further anxiety. Otherwise the winter was quite uneventful, and the party lived together in complete harmony, which was not a little surprising considering that they consisted of such mixed nationalities as Englishmen, Highlanders, Canadians, Eskimos, Chipewyans, Dog-ribs, Hare Indians, and Crees.

It was on June 20 that the two parties set off from the Fort on their voyages of discovery. It had been arranged that Franklin and Back, with thirteen men and the Eskimo interpreter, Augustus, should man the Lion and the Reliance, and should explore the coast westwards, while Dr Richardson and Mr Kendall, with ten men, should survey the land between the Mackenzie and the Coppermine. They dropped down the river together till, on July 4, they parted company and started off on their respective ways.

On the 7th Franklin reached the mouth of the river, and there he came upon a party of Eskimos encamped upon an island, with whom he attempted to open negotiations. Things went very smoothly until the receding tide left the boats aground. Then, however, the Eskimos, having discovered that the boats had on board a store of wonderful goods, the like of which they had never set eyes on before, decided that it would be more to their advantage to lay hands on these at once than to await the possible advantages of future trade. Consequently, they began a spirited attack upon the boats which lasted for several hours, and during the course of which they possessed themselves of a considerable portion of the expedition’s property. In warding off the attack, Franklin and his men were at a serious disadvantage, for they knew perfectly well that if they used their fire-arms they would eventually pay the penalty with their lives. Fortunately, however, they were able to prevent the loss of any of their more valuable property, such as their sails, oars, and astronomical instruments, and early on the next morning they succeeded in getting the boats out into deep water again.

Having at last shaken off their unwelcome visitors, Franklin and his party continued their journey westward. On the following day they fell in with another party of Eskimos, who proved to be more friendly than the last, and provided Franklin with a quantity of information concerning the coast along which he was about to travel. In the main, they were discouraging, for they told him that, though in the immediate neighbourhood the ice might be expected to drift away from the shore if a southerly wind arose, further to the westward it frequently adhered to the land throughout the whole summer, and even if he were so fortunate as to find any channels, navigation could not be very safe, as the ice was continually tossing about. They expressed their surprise that the explorers had not brought with them dogs and sledges for use when the sea route proved impossible. In later years, of course, it was found that the plan suggested by the Eskimos was the only one by which any material advance could be made in the Polar regions.

Franklin, however, was not inclined to pin too much faith upon the Eskimos’ information, as he learnt that, during the summer months, they never wandered far from the Mackenzie, and could not, in consequence, know very much about the condition of the more westerly seas. So, a southerly wind springing up and carrying the ice away from the shore, he pressed forward with such speed as the somewhat variable conditions would allow. During the course of the next few days he discovered and named Points Sabine and King, Herschell Island, Canning River, and Flaxman’s Island, and on August 10 he reached Foggy Island. On this unattractive spot the party was doomed to remain till the 16th, for a fog came down upon them and refused to clear away again. Fog, of course, is one of the most dangerous enemies of the Arctic navigator, for, when his course is obscured by it, he may be wrecked by an ice-floe before he is aware of his danger. Consequently there was nothing for them to do but to kick their heels on Foggy Island until more favourable weather allowed them to proceed.

This untimely delay deprived the expedition of all hope of success. Had they not lost those six valuable days they might very well have succeeded in joining the advance party sent out from H.M.S. Blossom in Kotzebue’s Inlet. As it was, they had no choice but to turn back to the Great Bear Lake, which they reached on September 21.

On arriving at Fort Franklin they found that Dr Richardson, Mr Kendall and their party had already returned, having brought their expedition to a successful conclusion. They, too, had had some difficulties with the Eskimos, but, apart from this, they had met with no adventure worth recording. They had sailed steadily along the coast, naming its principal features as they passed them. Liverpool Bay, Cape Bathurst, Franklin Bay, Cape Parry, Dolphin and Union Strait, and Cape Krusenstern, all owe their names to this expedition.

It was at the last of these, which is in lat. 68° 23´, long. 113° 45´ W., and stands at the western extremity of Coronation Gulf, that they connected the discoveries of the voyage with those made by Franklin on his former expedition. On the following day (August 8) they reached the mouth of the Coppermine, and there they found the remains of the fire which Franklin’s previous expedition had made before setting out on its journey. The river was so shallow that it was impossible to navigate it in the boats that they were now using, so, after dragging them out of reach of any flood and stowing away any stores which they did not require in the tents, they began the return journey on foot. They reached Fort Franklin on August 18 “after an absence of seventy-one days, during which period we had travelled by land and water 1709 geographical or 1980 statute miles.”

The winter passed without any particular incident, except some remarkably severe frosts. Some idea of the intense cold may be gathered from the fact that on January 24, 1827, when the temperature was at 52° 2´ below zero, Mr Kendall froze some mercury in the mould of a bullet and fired it from his pistol. This, however, was not the coldest weather that they experienced, for on February 7 the thermometer stood at 58° below zero.

During the summer of 1827 the party returned to England after an expedition which, if it had not absolutely fulfilled the purpose with which it had started, had certainly acquired some most valuable information.

CHAPTER VIII
PARRY’S NORTH-POLAR VOYAGE

It is not necessary to concern ourselves much with Captain Lyon’s subsidiary voyage of 1824. His instructions were to proceed to Repulse Bay in the Hecla, and to explore the isthmus which connects Melville Peninsula with the mainland and the coast beyond it. For reasons best known to himself, however, he tried to reach the bay by sailing round the south and up the west coasts of Southampton Island, instead of taking the shorter route along the north of the island, which Parry had always adopted. The result was that his expedition was very nearly lost, and he was obliged to return home before he had even reached the bay.

Nor is it necessary for us to follow Captain Beechey and the Blossom to Kotzebue Sound, where, it was hoped, they would meet Franklin and his party. He spent part of his time in cruising as far as Icy Cape, while the barge, which he sent forward under Mr Elson to search for Franklin and his party, explored the coast as far as Barrow Point—only 146 miles from Franklin’s furthest point. Otherwise, however, nothing occurred that is worthy of note.

Passing over these, we now come to Parry’s last and, in some ways, his greatest voyage, a voyage which opened up a new epoch in Arctic exploration. He returned from his third journey in search of the North-West Passage in October 1825, and in the spring of 1826 he suggested to Lord Melville, then First Lord of the Admiralty, a plan for reaching the North Pole by means of sledge-boats, which should travel either over the ice or through any spaces of open water which might intervene. The idea, it should be said, had actually originated with Franklin, who had proposed the journey some years before, and had offered to take command of it himself. As, however, he was now away on his second journey through North America, Parry’s services were retained for the expedition, which found complete favour in the eyes of the Admiralty. He was, in consequence, commissioned to the Hecla on November 11, 1826.

In order to make the objective of the journey perfectly clear, it will be best to quote a passage from the official instructions: “On your arrival at the northern shores of Spitzbergen,” they ran, “you will fix upon some harbour or cove, in which the Hecla may be placed, and, having properly secured her, you are then to proceed with the boats, whose requirements have, under your own directions, been furnished expressly for the service, directly to the northward, and use your best endeavours to reach the North Pole; and, having made such observations as are specified in your instructions for your former voyages in the northern regions, and such as will be pointed out to you by the Council of the Royal Society, added to those which your own experience will suggest, you will be careful to return to Spitzbergen before the winter sets in, and at such a period of the autumn as will ensure the vessels you command not being frozen up and thus obliged to winter there.”

The sledge-boats alluded to were of a somewhat peculiar construction, and were, on the whole, very well adapted for the purpose for which they were intended. They were flat-bottomed, and measured 20 feet long and, at their greatest beam, 7 feet broad. On a frame of ash and hickory was stretched a sheet of mackintosh waterproofing coated with tar. Outside this were placed first a layer of thin fir planking, then a sheet of stout felt, and lastly a thin planking of oak. A strong runner shod with steel was attached on either side of the keel, while to the forepart of the runner was fixed a span of hide-rope to be used for dragging the boat over the ice. The equipment also included a light bamboo mast, 19 feet long, a tanned duck sail, which could also serve the purpose of an awning, a spreat, a boat-hook, fourteen paddles, and a steer-oar.

The expedition sailed on April 4, 1827, and on the 17th the Hecla was off Hammerfest, a port on the Island of Soroe, off the Lapland coast. Here she was to call for a number of tame reindeer which would, it was hoped, be useful for pulling the boats along the ice. As matters turned out, however, their services were not required. By the middle of May they had reached Spitzbergen, and a month was now spent in trying to find a suitable harbourage for the Hecla. Most of the bays that they passed were so encumbered with ice that it was quite impossible to reach them; but at last, on the north coast of West Spitzbergen, they came upon a deep indentation named Treurenburg Bay, which suited their purpose admirably. Here, then, they made the Hecla fast and prepared to start on their journey towards the North Pole.

The boats were loaded with provisions for seventy-one days, and on the afternoon of June 21 they began their voyage. It had been decided to leave the reindeer behind as the ice, as seen from the crow’s-nest, was so rough and hummocky that they could be of no use whatever. The weather was fine and clear, the boats proved to be thoroughly seaworthy, and in due time they passed Little Table Island, the last piece of land which they would see for some weeks.

So long as they were travelling over the open sea their progress was easy enough, and it was only when they reached the ice that their difficulties began. They had expected the first part of their trip to be arduous, and they were certainly not disappointed, for they found that their road lay over small, rugged floes of ice, separated from one another by pools of water. Each of these pools had to be crossed three or four times, as it was always necessary to unload the boats on taking them out of the water, and then, after dragging them with infinite labour through chasms and up and down great hummocks of ice, the men had to return to the point from which they set out for their clothes and food. Consequently their progress was exceedingly slow and tedious, and on the first day’s journey they only made two and a half miles of northing.

Parry had decided to travel entirely by night, and this for various reasons. There is, of course, no darkness at all during an Arctic summer, but the sun was less powerful in the night, and the snow in consequence was firmer, while the glare, which by day was so strong as to produce inflammation of the eyes, was less oppressive. Furthermore, by sleeping during the warmer hours, it was possible for them to dry their working clothes, which were generally wet through from floundering about in pools of water.

They had hoped that when they were once through this preliminary field of broken ice they would reach a level sheet, over which they might travel with comparative ease, but, as time went on, the conditions seemed to become worse instead of better, for on the morning of the 26th rain began to fall heavily, with the result that the explorers were soon wet through, and nearly half the surface of the ice over which they had to travel was covered with little pools. From that time rain was almost constant, and Parry was the first to observe that the climate of these remoter Polar regions is actually milder than those of the northern shores of America, 7° to 15° further south.

The rain was often varied by fog, while, to add to the difficulties of the journey, they found that much of the surface ice over which they had to travel was composed of needle-like crystals, placed vertically, which, as the season advanced, afforded very poor foothold and cut their boots and feet.

One day was very like another on that most difficult journey. The party was usually aroused at about eight o’clock in the evening by a lusty tar blowing a reveille on a bugle. After prayers had been read, the men exchanged their fur sleeping suits for their walking clothes, which were, as a rule, still soaking wet or else frozen solid. This done, they would breakfast on cocoa and biscuits, and, having loaded the sledges, they would set about the day’s work. Their course underwent a good deal of variety, but it was never anything but arduous. Sometimes they had to haul the boat by main force over almost perpendicular blocks of ice. Sometimes they had to toil through snowy sludge, into which they sank so deeply that on one occasion it took them two hours to travel a hundred yards. Sometimes the pools and channels which separated the ice blocks from one another were not more than half a boat’s length broad, and the provisions had to be ferried over on blocks of ice, a most anxious proceeding, seeing that if an accident had occurred the whole party would have been left to starve.

After anything between five and ten hours’ work, during which they would make four or five miles, they would halt for the night, or, to speak more accurately, for the day, and, having changed into dry clothes, they would set about the necessary repairs, take supper, and retire to bed.

As they proceeded northward their progress seemed to become slower and slower. Parry had long since given up all hope of reaching the North Pole, but he had made up his mind, if possible, to touch the 83rd parallel, and thus to win the £1000 reward offered by the Government, but he was not prepared for the terrible disappointment with which he met at the end of July. On the 20th he ascertained by observation that his latitude was only 82° 36´, or less than five miles to the northward of his situation at noon on the 17th, although he was positive that they had travelled at least twelve miles. During the next few days the result of the observations was always the same, and he invariably found himself several miles south of the point to which he believed the previous day’s journey had brought him. He was therefore forced to the conclusion that the ice over which he was travelling was drifting steadily southward, and that he was losing during the day much of the ground that he had made during the night. So, after reaching lat. 82° 45´, a point which had never been attained before, and stood as a record for forty-five years, he decided to turn back. He was now only 172 miles from the Hecla, and of these 100 miles represented the journey over the water before reaching the ice. But as most of the 72 miles over the ice had been covered at least three, and sometimes five, times, the distance that they had travelled was about 580 geographical or 688 statute miles, almost exactly the distance from the Hecla to the Pole in a direct line.

The return journey was begun on July 27, and on August 21 they reached the Hecla without meeting with any contretemps. They set sail for home on August 28, and on September 29 Parry went to report himself at the Admiralty, where, curiously enough, he met Franklin, who had returned from his North American journey on exactly the same day.

Parry was received with enthusiasm wherever he went, and honours were showered on him in England and on the Continent. But from that point he leaves our narrative, for he never again sailed for the Polar seas.

CHAPTER IX
ROSS’S ADVENTURES IN THE “VICTORY”

The idea of discovering a north-west passage, though temporarily eclipsed by Parry’s great effort to reach the North Pole, was by no means set aside, and in 1828, soon after the return of the Polar Expedition, Captain John Ross approached the Government with a plan for the long-dreamt-of route through Prince Regent’s Inlet. It will be remembered that Ross had had some previous experience of Arctic navigation, for in 1818 he had set out with the Isabella and Alexander on a voyage through Baffin’s Bay, Parry being his second in command. On that occasion he distinguished himself by jumping to the conclusion that Lancaster Sound was a land-locked bay, and possibly on account of this error the Government did not see fit to entertain his new proposal.

Thanks, however, to the generosity of his friend Mr Felix Booth, he was able, in 1829, to buy and fit out a paddle steamer called the Victory, which had previously been used as a steam packet running between Liverpool and the Isle of Man.

In those days, of course, navigation by steam was in the very earliest stages of its development, and the experiment of sailing the Arctic seas in a boat propelled by the new motive power had yet to be tried. The disadvantages of paddles in the ice were many and obvious, but they were minimised by an ingenious contrivance whereby the paddles could be lifted out of the water in a minute; while the Victory was also so fitted out that she could be used as a sailing vessel if necessary.

No sooner was the news of the preparation of the expedition made known, than Ross received offers of service from many experienced Arctic navigators, among them being Lieutenant Hoppner, Parry’s former colleague, and Captain Back, Franklin’s friend and companion. He had, however, already selected his nephew, Lieutenant James Clark Ross, as his second in command, and he could not, in consequence, accept their proposals.

The Victory set sail on May 23, 1829, and it was soon found to be fortunate that she had her sails to fall back upon, for the machinery, which was of the crudest description, was constantly getting out of working order, and, bit by bit, was ultimately rejected and thrown away.

Lancaster Sound was reached without any serious misadventure, and on August 10 the Victory rounded Cape York and entered Prince Regent’s Inlet. Ross then headed for the western shore, and he was soon off the place where the Fury had been lost on Parry’s previous expedition. The weather was bad, but he eventually succeeded in effecting a landing within a quarter of a mile of that ill-fated spot. Of the Fury herself no trace was to be seen, but the shore was strewn with coal, while in the officers’ mess-hut, which Parry had erected before leaving, were quantities of stores which proved of inestimable value to the present party of explorers. The bears had evidently been bestowing their attentions upon the contents of the store-house, but they had been unable to make anything of the preserved meats and vegetables which, in spite of their four years’ exposure to the weather, were in an excellent state of preservation.

The Victory had been originally provisioned for a thousand days, and as he had already drawn pretty freely upon his stores, Ross decided to make up the deficit from the hoard left by the Fury. They consequently took on board enough stores and provisions to complete their equipment for two years and three months, and set sail for the south.

On August 15 they passed Cape Garry, the furthest point of the coast yet discovered. From this point onwards, of course, they devoted themselves to mapping out and naming the principal features of the seaboard along which they sailed; and in due course they reached what appeared to them to be a continuous stretch of land, which they named Boothia, in honour of Mr Felix Booth, who had equipped the expedition.

Whether it was ill luck, or whether it was a lack of perspicacity, it is difficult to say, but certain it is that Ross seemed always to be foredoomed just to miss the prize for which he was seeking. On his former voyage he mistook Lancaster Sound for an inlet, and, in consequence, the kudos which he might have gained from its discovery went to Parry instead. But on this occasion he was even more unfortunate, for, just before he reached Boothia, he passed Bellot Strait, which, as Kennedy subsequently discovered, leads directly into the Arctic Sea, the very North-West Passage, in fact, for which he was looking. He again missed his chance, however, and, failing to recognise it as a strait, he named it Hazard Inlet and went on his way without the remotest idea of the discovery which he might have made had he taken the trouble to examine the inlet a little more closely.

Soon after this the Victory fell in with the ice and her voyage became one of the most hazardous description. Over and over again she seemed in imminent danger of being sunk, but she always managed to pull through, and eventually, on October 1, Ross found himself in a bay which seemed to be designed by nature for his winter quarters.

Here, accordingly, he decided to stay and his vessel was soon put ship-shape and in order for what ultimately proved to be the longest sojourn ever made by an explorer in the Arctic regions till then. It was not, indeed, until four winters had passed that the party was able to leave this dreary quarter of the world, and even then they were obliged to abandon their ship and take to the boats.

Very little that is worthy of note occurred during the first winter. The monotony of the excessively dull season was, however, relieved by the appearance of a party of Eskimos, who proved to be thoroughly friendly, except on one occasion when they nearly assassinated half the party because they imagined that they had caused the death of one of the members of their tribe by witchcraft. The white men, by the way, won their sinister reputation in a rather curious way. One of the Eskimos had had the misfortune to lose a leg during an altercation with a bear. The ship’s carpenter, seeing how severely handicapped the man was, thoughtfully provided him with a wooden leg, to the amazement and delight of himself and his fellows, who imagined that their new friends must be possessed of some very extraordinary powers to be able to provide the legless with fresh means of locomotion. One of them was so fascinated by the carpenter’s ingenuity that, having done some slight damage to one of his own legs, he suggested that it would not be amiss if he were provided with a new one. On being informed, however, that it would be necessary to cut the other off first, he regarded the scheme with less enthusiasm.

With a view to obtaining from the Eskimos such geographical information as they might possess, Ross would frequently invite parties of them to dinner in his cabin. They did not, however, look upon English food with much favour. Salt meat, pudding, rice, or sweets they regarded with abhorrence, and the only articles of English diet that they would touch were soup and salmon, which they would wash down with beakers of oil, wine proving not at all to their tastes.

It was not until September 17 that the Victory was floating in open water again, but her release was destined to be short-lived, for after drifting about for a fortnight, the explorers found themselves frozen in again on September 30, only a few miles from the spot at which they had spent the previous winter.

For some months it had been pretty evident, from the variations of the compass and the dip of the magnetic needle, that they were very near that mysterious centre of terrestrial magnetism, the North Magnetic Pole, and Ross came to the conclusion that his present enforced sojourn among the ice might be profitably employed in determining the point exactly. Accordingly, at the end of May 1831, the younger Ross set out with a party, armed with the instruments necessary for making the discovery which had occupied the thoughts of Parry on his earlier journey. They travelled westwards over the Boothia wilderness, and at eight o’clock on the morning of June 1 they realised that they had discovered the object of their search.

There was nothing in the place itself to distinguish it from the surrounding country, but the horizontal needles, which were suspended in the most delicate manner possible, remained absolutely inactive, while the amount of dip recorded by the dipping needle was 89° 59′, or within one minute of the vertical.

Having come definitely to the conclusion that he was actually standing on the Magnetic Pole, Ross hoisted the British flag and took possession of it and of its adjoining territory in the name of Great Britain and King William IV. He then raised a cairn of stones, in which he buried a canister containing a record of the discovery, and having determined the latitude to be 70° 5′ N., and the longitude 96° 43′ W., he set out on the return journey, which was accomplished without misadventure.

It had been hoped that the Victory would be able to sail for the open sea at the end of August, and by the 27th the bay was practically free of ice. But the travellers were once more doomed to disappointment, for adverse winds sprang up, and before she had travelled many miles she was driven into a small bay into which she was promptly frozen.

By the middle of January 1832 it became perfectly obvious that if the members of the party were ever to return to England alive they must make a push for it; for scurvy broke out, and the health of his men became so enfeebled that they were faced by the unpleasant prospect of dying, one by one, in those inclement regions. Accordingly Ross determined to abandon the Victory and to take to the boats.

Experience, however, had taught him that it would be madness to hope to make any substantial progress in the very short time during which the sea in that neighbourhood appeared to be free from ice. So sledges were prepared, and the winter months were spent in dragging the boats over the ice in the direction of Fury Beach. The men were terribly reduced in strength by illness, and the hardships of their journey were appalling. However, it was their only chance of surviving, and they plodded steadily on. They left the Victory on May 29, and it was not until July 2 that they found themselves on Fury Beach, after an incredibly laborious journey which, in a direct line, was over three hundred miles, but which, in their case, was vastly lengthened by the fact that the combined strength of the whole party was often only sufficient to drag one boat at a time, and they were constantly obliged to cover each stretch of their journey two or three times.

On arriving at Fury Beach they built themselves a house, which they named Somerset House, and settled down to wait for the breaking up of the ice. Once more, however, they were doomed to disappointment. At the beginning of August they set sail for the north, and the open sea, but they were almost immediately driven ashore again by the ice, and though they made one subsequent attempt to escape, they met with no better success.

There was nothing for it, therefore, but to make the best of a bad business, and to return to Somerset House for the winter. Mercifully there was still an abundance of the Fury’s stores left, and they were, in consequence, in no danger of starving, but it may well be imagined that the disappointment was extreme, and that the prospect of being obliged to spend an Arctic winter in a cabin, that was but ill protected against the weather, was not enticing.

Their troubles, however, were approaching an end, for in the following summer the ice cleared away from the inlet, and the explorers were able to quit the country in which they had spent four tedious winters. Sailing on July 14 they were picked up on the 26th by a whaler which, curiously enough, Ross himself had once commanded—the Isabella, of Hull. It was only with some difficulty that they succeeded in persuading the mate of the boat which put out to meet them that they were not their own ghosts, for the party had long since been given up as lost. However, this difficulty having been satisfactorily overcome, they were taken on board, and they eventually arrived home in the middle of October.

Ross failed in the object of his voyage, partly, perhaps, through his own stupidity, for as we have already pointed out, he was at one time within an ace of finding the North-West Passage. But his expedition had most valuable results, for not only did his nephew, James Clark Ross, locate the Magnetic Pole, but he also mapped out some six or seven hundred miles of coast line on either shore of Boothia and he made some exceedingly serviceable notes on the climatic conditions of North-Eastern America.

If he has never received full credit for his work, it is, perhaps, his own fault, for he made himself a most unpopular commander, and, if we may judge from the persistent pessimism of his diaries, he must have been a most depressing companion in the Arctic regions. Consequently most of the kudos has been given to his nephew, who was, no doubt, personally responsible for the discovery of the Magnetic Pole, but who, after all, was only a member of his uncle’s expedition, and was acting entirely under his uncle’s orders and directions.

CHAPTER X
BACK’S TWO JOURNEYS

The prolonged absence of Ross and his party naturally gave their friends at home cause for the keenest anxiety. Many, believing it to be impossible for any Englishman to survive four consecutive winters in the inhospitable Arctic regions, gave them up for dead. There were others, however, who, knowing of the abundance of supplies on Fury Beach, entertained a hope that they might still be alive, and among these was Mr George Ross, a near relative of the commander of the Victory.

Mr Ross felt that, if it were possible to find a man who would be prepared to lead an expedition through Northern America, and thence to Fury Beach, the crew of the Victory might be rescued, or, at any rate, some definite information might be obtained concerning their fate. Such a man was forthcoming in Captain George Back, the companion of Franklin, both on the Trent and on his two land expeditions. It was in June 1832 that Back first heard of the projected expedition, and he promptly offered his services, which were as promptly accepted. So much interest did the Government take in the enterprise that they contributed largely towards its expenses, the rest of the necessary funds being easily obtained by public and private subscription.

In the meanwhile, the Hudson’s Bay Company was not slow to display its sympathy. Its agents were informed that an expedition was likely to set out in the following spring, and were ordered to make the way easy for it, while two boats, two canoes and 120 bags of pemmican were placed at the disposal of Back, who was also empowered to levy contributions of provisions and stores at any of the Company’s stations.

The plan of campaign was to be as follows. After spending the winter of 1833-34 at the Great Bear Lake, the expedition was to attempt the navigation of the great and hitherto unexplored river which had its source slightly to the east. This river was known to the Indians by the tongue-twisting name of Thlew-ee-chon-desseth, which, being translated, merely means the Great Fish River. Nothing definite was known concerning it, but it was believed to flow either into the eastern extremity of the Polar Sea or into Prince Regent’s Inlet itself. Thence it would only be a matter of 300 miles to Fury Beach, where, it was well known, Ross intended to call for supplies. It will be seen that this expedition was to open up entirely new ground, and it was hoped that Back, who was to be accompanied by Mr Richard King, a naturalist of repute, and eighteen men, would make some valuable scientific discoveries.

The Great Slave Lake was reached without misadventure, and as the season was still early, Back determined to set out on a preliminary expedition in search of the source of the Great Fish River, which had never yet been properly located. He found that his task was by no means light, for his way lay through a chain of rivers and lakes, involving countless portages, while, to add to his troubles, his interpreter fell ill and two of his Indian companions deserted. However, on August 31 he succeeded in reaching the river for which he was searching, and, though the season was now too late to admit of extended exploration, he was able to find out what build of boat would be necessary for the descent in the following year. This done, he made his way back to the spot on the Great Slave Lake which had been selected for the party’s winter quarters.

Here he found that the construction of their quarters was proceeding apace. The framework of the house was already up, a fishery had been established which was yielding a plentiful supply of food, while Indians were already beginning to flock to Fort Reliance, as Back had named his winter quarters. The Indians of that country, it should be said, had an innate objection to being burdened with the sick and aged members of their tribe, and were in the habit of entrusting them to the care of the nearest white man, a species of dumping against which it was impossible to take any protective measures. Consequently Back soon found himself with a number of helpless dependants upon his hands, who were all the less welcome because the fishery, as time went on, did not prove an unalloyed success and the supply of food ran rather low.

The latter misfortune was attributed by the natives simply and solely to the evil machinations of a stone observatory which the explorers erected at the Fort. The use of the astronomical instruments which it contained was totally beyond their comprehension, and in consequence they adopted what seemed to their untutored minds to be the only rational explanation, namely that they were in some way connected with witchcraft. This opinion was strengthened by the evidence of two Canadian voyagers, who, having chanced to peep into the observatory at the moment when Back and King were taking the dip of the magnetic needle, instantly told their companions that they had caught the white chief in the very act of raising the devil.

More than once during the winter the food supply was in danger of failing. The party, however, was preserved from starvation by Akaitcho, the old Coppermine chief, who put in a timely appearance with a supply of fresh meat. Still the distress at the Fort was often very serious, for not only was food scarce, but the winter was one of the coldest on record. The thermometer often stood at 70° below zero, while some idea of the difficulties attending ablution may be gathered from the fact that, on one occasion, when Back was obliged to wash his face at a distance of three feet from the fire, his hair was clothed with ice before he had time to dry it.

Towards the end of April a messenger arrived at the Fort with news that materially altered Back’s plans, for he brought with him extracts from the Times which told of the safe return of Ross and his party. However, there was still his work of exploration to be carried out, so at the end of June he started off for the Great Fish River, whither carpenters had already been sent to build boats suitable for the voyage to the sea.

The descent of the river actually began on June 27, and was one of the most exciting trips on record. The stream was constantly interrupted by rapids, falls, and rocks, and had not Back been provided with a bowman and a steersman of exceptional nerve and dexterity in Sinclair, a half-breed, and M’Kay, a Highlander, calamity would have overtaken his party before it was very far on its way.

A characteristic story is told of M’Kay which well deserves quotation. At a peculiarly crucial moment, when the boat was being swirled down one of the most dangerous rapids that the expedition had had to negotiate, an oar broke, and the boat and its occupants were within an ace of being hurled incontinently down an appalling fall. The situation proved altogether too much for one member of the crew, who began to cry aloud for Divine assistance. He was interrupted, however, by M’Kay, who yelled at him in a voice which carried even above the roar of the water, “Is this a time for praying? Pull your starboard oar!”

After a most perilous voyage, during which they covered 530 miles and negotiated no fewer than eighty-three falls, rapids, and cascades, Back and his party reached the mouth of the Great Fish River at the end of July. His hopes of being able to penetrate westward as far as Cape Turnagain were, however, doomed to disappointment, for the shore was so encumbered with ice that navigation was out of the question. After waiting for a few days in the hope that the sea would clear he determined to return home, so, after giving the name of King William Land to the big island which lay opposite the mouth of the river, he started on the homeward journey on August 21, reaching his destination on September 17, and in the following year he returned to England. It should be added that, in honour of this voyage, the name of the river was changed to that of Back River.

Back was not destined to remain idle for long, for in 1836 he was despatched by the Government to find a passage from Prince Regent’s Inlet into the Polar Sea, if such a passage existed. According to his instructions he was to make for Wager Inlet or Repulse Bay in the Terror, which had been specially fitted out for the voyage, and was manned by a splendid company, including Robert M’Clure, the future discoverer of the North-West Passage, and Graham Gore, one of Franklin’s companions on his last and fatal expedition. There he was to spend the winter, and in the following year he was to cross the isthmus joining Melville Peninsula to the mainland and pursue his way towards Cape Turnagain.

Unfortunately he was not destined even to reach the scene of operations. Before she had made Southampton Island the Terror was caught in the pack, and all her captain’s efforts to set her free again were unavailing. From this time onwards the situation of the crew was one of perpetual peril. Northerly winds swept the ice down upon her with terrific force, and, had she not been of an exceptionally strong build, she must have been crushed to pieces. As it was, her bolts started and her timbers cracked, till it was found necessary to hold her together with chains passed under her keel.

THE DISRUPTION OF THE ICE ROUND THE “TERROR”
FROM A DRAWING BY CAPT. SMYTH

As the winter wore on matters became worse, for not only did the danger from the ice show no signs of diminishing, but scurvy broke out, and several men died of that terrible disease. For long and weary months the crew lived under the very shadow of death, and it was not until the beginning of May, by which time the Terror had drifted to the mouth of Hudson’s Strait, that they dared to entertain any hopes of ultimate deliverance. At last, however, the ice broke away from the ship’s sides, and she was afloat once more, but in so terribly crazy a condition that she was by no means fit for a voyage across the Atlantic. However chain cables were passed under her and made fast to ringbolts on the quarter deck, and, thus patched up, she accomplished the journey in safety, reaching British waters on September 3.

CHAPTER XI
THE DISCOVERIES OF DEASE AND SIMPSON

Meanwhile the exploration of the shores of Northern America was proceeding apace. At the time when the Terror sailed for Hudson’s Strait the situation was this. Beechey, starting from the west, had mapped out the coast as far as Point Barrow. No white man had yet examined the coast from Point Barrow to Return Reef, a matter of some 150 miles. The expeditions of Franklin and Richardson, however, had covered the whole distance between Return Reef and Point Turnagain, but the coast-line between that point and the mouth of the Great Fish or Back River still remained to be explored, as, too, did the shore of the Polar Sea eastward of the Great Fish River. It was to the last-named stretch of coast-line that the greatest importance was attached, because it was felt that search might very possibly reveal the existence of a waterway between Regent’s Inlet and the Polar Sea. There being so much work to be done in this direction, in 1836 the Hudson’s Bay Company determined to send out an expedition on its own account “to endeavour to complete the discovery and survey of the northern shores of the American continent.” The command of the expedition was given to two of the Company’s officers, Mr Peter Warren Dease and Mr Thomas Simpson. Dease had accompanied Franklin on his expedition of 1825-26, and, on account of his seniority in the Company’s service, the command of the party was given to him. Simpson was only a junior official, but he was a man of such immense enthusiasm and ability that, to all intents and purposes, before many weeks were over, he became the actual leader, and the most important discoveries made by the expedition must really be accredited to him.

According to the official instructions, the party, which was to consist of twelve men in addition to the two officers, was to proceed to the Athabasca Lake, and to winter either at Fort Chipewyan or at Fort Resolution. The summer of 1837 was to be devoted to the exploration of the coast-line between the mouth of the Mackenzie River, which would lead them to the sea, and Point Barrow. As soon as winter set in the party was to make its way to the Great Bear Lake, whence, in the summer of 1838, it was to pass down the Coppermine River, with a view to linking up Franklin’s discoveries with those of Back.

In pursuance of this plan Dease set out for the Athabasca Lake at the end of July, while Simpson, who was a man of extraordinary energy, went south to the Red River Settlement, with a view to rubbing up his astronomy, entirely undeterred by the fact that he would have to make the whole of his journey to the Athabasca Lake—a distance of 1277 miles—on foot, in the depth of winter, over a rugged and trackless waste. It was to energy of this kind that he owed so much of his success. Frequently during his subsequent trips he achieved feats which had hitherto been regarded as absolutely impossible, while he invariably travelled at a pace which none of his predecessors had ever approached. He covered the whole of the distance between the Red River Settlement and Lake Athabasca in sixty-two days; and what makes the achievement all the more remarkable is that he invariably insisted on “raising the road” himself—in other words, he marched on ahead of the party to mark out the track through the snow. This task is so exceedingly trying, that, as a rule, each member of a party undertakes it in turn for an hour at a time.

The winter at Fort Chipewyan was very largely occupied in the construction of the two boats that were to take the party down to the Polar Sea. The Castor and Pollux, as they were named, were light clinker-built craft of 24 feet keel and 6 feet beam, carrying two lug-sails apiece. They were duly launched at the end of May, and on June 1 the party set out on its way down to the sea. At Fort Norman four men were sent off to the Great Bear Lake to build winter quarters, establish a fishery, and make all the necessary preparations for the return of the party.

The voyage down the Mackenzie passed off without misadventure, and on July 9 the party found itself on the shores of the Polar Sea. The next fortnight was spent in verifying Franklin’s discoveries, but on July 23 they reached Return Reef, and there they began to open up new country. Fog, ice, and adverse winds now made their progress rather slow, and Simpson feared that if the conditions did not improve they would not reach Point Barrow before winter set in. Accordingly he determined to make a push for it, and selecting five men to accompany him, he started off to accomplish the rest of the journey on foot. The weather was bitterly cold, with a biting north-east wind and a thick fog. The coast, moreover, was intersected by countless salt creeks, through which it was necessary to wade, and the conditions altogether were as disagreeable as could well be imagined.

On the second day of the journey, however, when they had proceeded about thirty miles, they had the good fortune to come upon an Eskimo encampment. Here Simpson succeeded in borrowing an “oomiack,” or large family canoe, which proved of such material assistance that before long they were at their journey’s end.

The first part of their expedition was now safely accomplished, for they had surveyed the whole of the 150 miles of coast-line between Return Reef and Point Barrow, thus linking up the discoveries of Beechey and Franklin. There was, therefore, nothing left for them to do but to make the best of their way up the Mackenzie River to the Great Bear Lake, which they duly reached on September 25.

The winter passed without any misadventure whatever. The usual Indians, of course, swarmed to the Fort and expected to be fed by the Englishmen. Fortunately, however, provisions were plentiful, and the party, unlike some of the preceding expeditions, was never in danger of starvation, in spite of the enormous appetites in which most of its members rejoiced. The intense cold of these climates makes a liberal supply of animal food absolutely indispensable, and the daily ration served out to each man was 10 or 12 pounds of venison, or, when they could be obtained, four or five whole fish weighing from 15 to 20 pounds. Even this was found insufficient by some members of the party.

As soon as summer began Simpson and his companions set out on their journey to the Coppermine River. Their way lay up Dease River and across the Dismal Lakes, and, as the ice had not yet given way to the thaw, the journey was attended by not a few difficulties. However, with characteristic enterprise, Simpson fixed his boats firmly on stout iron sledges, and having hoisted his sails sped away over the lakes at a good pace, to the immense astonishment of the natives.

On reaching the Coppermine they found it greatly swollen with the melting snow and strewn with loose ice. Delay, however, was intolerable to the explorers, and they determined to make the best of their way down to the sea without more ado. Navigation was extremely dangerous, for the river went raging down between gigantic precipices, along whose base the breakers raged and foamed with overwhelming fury. Simpson’s account of the shooting of Escape Rapid, which they reached at noon on the first day of their journey, is well worth quoting as showing the sort of difficulties with which they had to contend: “A glance at the overhanging cliffs,” he says, “told us that there was no alternative but to run down with a full cargo. In an instant we were in the vortex, and, before we were aware, my boat was borne towards an isolated rock which the boiling surge almost concealed. To clear it on the outside was no longer possible; our only chance was to run between it and the lofty eastern cliff. The word was passed, and every breath was hushed. A stream which dashed down upon us over the brow of the precipice, more than a hundred feet in height, mingled with the spray that whirled upwards from the rapid, forming a terrific shower bath. The pass was about eight feet wide, and the error of a single foot would have been instant destruction. As, guided by Sinclair’s consummate skill, the boat shot safely through those jaws of death, an involuntary cheer arose. Our next impulse was to turn round to view the fate of our comrades behind. They had profited by the peril we incurred and kept without the treacherous rock in time. The waves there were still higher, and for a while we lost sight of our friends. When they emerged the first object visible was the bowman disgorging part of an intrusive wave which he had swallowed and looking half-drowned. Mr Dease afterwards told me that the spray, which completely enveloped them, formed a gorgeous rainbow round the boat.”

They reached the shores of the Polar Sea on July 1, and here they were doomed to disappointment. The winter had been one of exceptional length and severity, and in consequence the shores of the sea itself were so encumbered with ice as to make navigation almost impossible. They pushed slowly along, but they found both Coronation Gulf and Melville Sound completely covered with solid ice, and by August 19, when the time was rapidly approaching for them to return, they were still three miles short of the furthest point reached by Franklin.

There was no chance of proceeding any further in their boats, but Simpson was determined to set foot on land which had never been trodden by an European, so with a party of seven men he set out on a ten days’ tramp eastward. Travelling was very painful, for the way lay mostly over loose stones and was intersected by numberless brooks and streams. Their labours, however, were well rewarded. Simpson had feared from the formation of the land along which he was travelling that the coast-line of the Polar Sea was not continuous. On August 23, however, he reached a lofty cape, on ascending which he discovered that in reality he had merely been travelling along the southern shore of a strait. Beneath his feet lay an immense sea rolling away eastward as far as the eye could reach, while to the north he saw an extensive land to which he gave the name of Queen Victoria Land.

After travelling a few miles south-south-east the expedition was obliged to start on their way back, the five days allotted to the outgoing journey having now expired. On the 29th they rejoined the rest of the party at Boathaven, and on September 4 they began the journey up the Coppermine. Hitherto the ascent of the Coppermine by boat had been considered impossible. Simpson, however, determined to prove that the reverse was the case, and with infinite labour he succeeded in towing the boats safely up all the rapids. On September 5 they reached a spot about four miles below the junction of Kendal River, which they considered to be the nearest point to Fort Confidence. Here, accordingly, they dragged the boats out of the water, and leaving them high and dry in a wood, they made their way back to their winter quarters on foot, reaching their journey’s end on September 14.

There everything had been got in perfect readiness for the long winter. The buildings had been put in order, a quantity of dried venison had been purchased from the Indians, and several thousand fish had been caught and cured. Consequently they were in no danger of want, and spent their time in comparative comfort until June brought a release from the frost. As soon as it was possible they set off for the point on the Coppermine at which they had left the Castor and Pollux, and in due time they reached the Polar Sea.

In the first week or so their progress was rather slow. The season was, however, far more open than was that of the preceding year and, on reaching Coronation Gulf, they found it, to their great delight, perfectly navigable. From that point they pushed on apace. On the night of the 20th they stopped at Boathaven, and thence, helped by a favouring wind, they ran rapidly along the west coast of Kent Peninsula to Cape Franklin, which they reached exactly a month earlier than Simpson’s party had reached it in the preceding year. Here again they were favoured by fortune, for they found an open passage of water, two miles wide, along which the boats bowled merrily. They reached Cape Alexander on the 26th, and then, rounding the eastern extremity of Kent Peninsula, they ran along the shore which they had been previously obliged to traverse on foot, discovering and naming Melbourne Island and Roxborough Cape as they went.

On the 10th they entered the strait which is now called by Simpson’s name, and it was then that they realised that they were on the verge of linking up Franklin’s discoveries with those of Back, for the rapid rush of the tide from the east told them that they were about to enter the open sea into which the Great Fish River disgorged its waters. On the 13th all doubts on this point were set at rest for, on rounding a very sharp cape, they saw before them a sandy desert which they knew to be Back’s Ogle Point.

By reaching the estuary of the Great Fish River they had practically accomplished the objects of their expedition. Simpson, however, was by no means disposed to rest upon his laurels, and he determined to make an effort to discover whether or not the North American continent was linked to Boothia Felix or whether a strait connected the Boothia Gulf with the Arctic Sea. Accordingly, with his wonted energy, he selected three volunteers and set off on a short voyage of exploration in one of the boats. He was not destined, however, to succeed in his search, for on the 20th adverse winds compelled him to take shelter in a small river, which he named after the Castor and Pollux. To attempt to proceed any further would have been foolhardy, and might well have resulted in the loss of the entire party. Accordingly, having decided his position as lat. 68° 28´ N., long. 94° 14´ W., he turned back and reached Cape Britannia, where Dease had remained, on August 20.

They decided to vary their homeward journey by sailing along the coast of Victoria Land, which had never, of course, been explored. They made its nearest point, which they named Cape Colborne, on September 6. The 7th and 8th were spent in sailing across two great bays, to which they gave the names of Cambridge and Wellington Bays, and on the 9th they were nearly opposite Cape Franklin, the shore of the American continent being then about twenty miles away. On the following day they made for Cape Barrow, having explored some 156 miles of the new country.

The ascent of the Coppermine was difficult, as winter had now set in, and the ice on the rocks afforded very poor foothold to the men who were towing the boats. The journey was, however, accomplished in safety, and on September 25 they reached Fort Confidence. Thence they passed on to Fort Simpson, where the leader of the expedition proposed to spend the next few weeks in writing up the account of his voyages and discoveries. These were completed by December 2, on which date he set out for his own station at Red River Settlement, which he reached on February 2, having travelled 1900 miles on foot in those sixty-one days.

This was destined to be the last journey which the indefatigable young traveller undertook, for within a few months he was lying in his grave. The exact circumstances which led to the tragic death of one of the most brilliant and enthusiastic explorers England ever possessed have never been properly ascertained, and no one ever knew whether he was murdered or whether he committed suicide.

Briefly put, the story is as follows: The Governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company at that time was a relation of the explorer, who was not, however, too well disposed towards him. Though the expedition had accomplished great things, it seems that Governor Simpson thought that it ought to have accomplished more; and in one of his letters to its leader he expressed his regret that the party was not prepared to spend another year in the Arctic regions, with a view to pushing its discoveries on in the direction of Fury and Hecla Strait. As the younger Simpson had already told him in one of his letters that his men were utterly worn out and his provisions exhausted, the tone adopted by the Governor seems to have been distinctly unreasonable. That his relative was perfectly prepared to prosecute his researches still further was obvious from an offer which he made to lead another expedition north in the following year, with a view to surveying Boothia Felix, and, if possible, to passing through Fury and Hecla Strait, and so making his way to Hudson’s Bay. This offer was, however, entirely ignored by Governor Simpson, who, indeed, gave the young explorer to understand that, if another expedition were fitted out, the command would be given to someone else.

Simpson was very much hurt by the Governor’s attitude, and wrote him a somewhat strong letter upon the subject, with the result that he was ordered to repair to England immediately. The controversy seems to have affected the explorer’s health very seriously indeed, and it is obvious from some of the letters that he wrote to the Governor that he was suffering from great mental excitement. Had he but known it, there was every prospect of his continuing his excellent work as an explorer, for a letter which he had written to the directors of the Hudson’s Bay Company suggesting a fresh voyage of discovery through the Gulf of Boothia had been very favourably considered by them, and they wrote him a formal reply appointing him to the command of a fresh expedition within a few days of the date on which he set out on his homeward journey from the Red River Settlement.

He took leave of his friends on June 6, 1840, and started off in the direction of St Peters with a party which consisted of James Bruce of the Red River Settlement, a father and son of the name of Legros, and John Bird. Bruce’s sworn testimony as to the events which took place on the journey is to the following effect. On June 14 Simpson seemed to be restless and ill. He frequently expressed a desire to return to the Red River Settlement, and urged the others to go with him. He did not appear to be suffering from any particular complaint, but he wished, nevertheless, to consult a physician, and told his companions that he feared that he could not live much longer. Towards the evening Bruce, Bird, and the elder Legros were engaged in pitching the tent, standing with their backs to their leader. Suddenly Bruce heard the report of a gun, and looking round, he saw that Simpson had shot Bird, who fell dead upon the spot. Simpson then turned his gun upon the elder Legros and fired at him, wounding him mortally, though death did not ensue immediately. When they were sufficiently recovered from their horror and amazement, Bruce and the younger Legros approached Simpson, who told them that it had come to his knowledge that Bird and Legros had formed a plot to kill him during the night for his papers, and that he had only acted in self-defence. Before he died Legros denied the existence of any such plot, and to this day it is not known whether or not Simpson had any ground for his suspicions.

The young explorer was still standing with his gun in his hand, and Bruce and the younger Legros, fearing, apparently, that they might share the fate of their comrades, mounted their horses and rode back to find another and larger body of travellers whom they had left on the previous day, and who were encamped a few miles back. On reaching their friends they gave the alarm, and having been joined by five men they returned to the scene of the murders. As they reached the cart near which Simpson had been standing, they called him by name. The only answer that they received was the report of a gun and the whistle of a bullet. That Simpson had shot himself was the inevitable conclusion, but, with a view to frightening him if he should be still alive, they fired their guns as they approached the cart. The precaution was unnecessary, however, for, on drawing nearer, they found that Simpson had shot himself through the head. The bodies of the three men, Simpson, Legros, and Bird, were there and then buried in the same grave.

Such is the story as told by Bruce, but it is impossible to vouch for its truth as there was no corroborative evidence, the younger Legros never having been examined. Having regard to the state of Simpson’s health at the time, it is more than probable that he really believed that he was only acting in his own defence in shooting Bird and Legros. But whether he died by his own hand, or whether he was shot by Bruce or one of the party who returned with him, it is impossible to say.

CHAPTER XII
FRANKLIN’S LAST VOYAGE

The failure of Back’s expedition in the Terror to accomplish anything of importance proved so discouraging to the Government that, for a while, they desisted from any further attempts to discover the North-West Passage, and turned their attention to the Antarctic instead. The brilliant success of Dease and Simpson’s journey along the shores of the Polar Sea, however, had the effect of giving a fresh impetus to the public interest in Arctic exploration; so, when the Erebus and Terror returned from their voyage to the Antarctic, the authorities listened favourably to the representations of the Royal Geographical Society and of a number of men of science who were interested in the work, and decided to fit them out again for an expedition to the Polar seas.

For the last seven years Franklin had been acting as Governor of Tasmania, but he returned at about the time when the new expedition was under discussion, and it was naturally felt that, as senior Arctic explorer, he ought to be given the command. Lord Haddington, then first Lord of the Admiralty, was at first rather chary of offering it to him, thinking that, after his long and brilliant career, he might well wish to spend the rest of his days in peace at home. “I might find a good excuse for not letting you go, Sir John,” he said, “in the rumour that tells me you are sixty years of age.” “No, no, my lord,” exclaimed Franklin, “I am only fifty-nine!” So to everyone’s delight the appointment was duly made.

The Erebus and Terror were fitted out for the service with all the most modern appliances. Provided as they were with engines of twenty horse-power and auxiliary screws, they were the first Arctic vessels to put the discovery of steam to practical use, for the engines of the Victory, as we have seen, were so crude that they had to be discarded. Naturally enough the authorities were flooded with applications for appointments to the ships, and they were able, in consequence, to select some of the most able officers in the navy for the service, among them being Commander Fitzjames, who had been through the China War; Crozier and Graham Gore, who had served under Parry and Ross; Fairholme, Hodgson, and Des Vœux.

Franklin’s official instructions were to pass through Lancaster Sound with all possible despatch, wasting no time in examining openings to the northward, and, after reaching Cape Walker, to turn southward and eastward with a view to finding his way to Behring Strait. Should neither of these two routes prove practicable, he was to go northward up Wellington Channel in the second summer.

The two ships sailed from the Thames on May 19, 1845, and were soon well on their way up Baffin Bay. Most of what we know of the early part of the voyage we owe to Commander Fitzjames, a delightful correspondent, who, in a series of letters to Mrs Coningham, gave some character sketches of his companions which are well worth preserving. Here is a passage which refers to Franklin. “I like a man who is in earnest. Sir John Franklin read the church service to-day, and a sermon, so very beautifully that I defy any man not to feel the force of what he would convey. The first Sunday he read was a day or two before we sailed, when Lady Franklin, his daughter, and niece attended. Everyone was struck with his extreme earnestness of manner, evidently proceeding from real conviction.... We are very fond of Sir John Franklin, who improves very much as we come to know more of him. He is anything but nervous or fidgety; in fact, I should say remarkable for energetic decision in sudden emergencies, but I should think he might be easily persuaded where he has not already formed a strong opinion.”

Here is a note on the purser. “I have just had a game of chess with the purser, Osmer, who is delightful.... I was at first inclined to think that he was a stupid old man, because he had a chin and took snuff; but he is as merry-hearted as any young man, full of quaint, dry sayings, always good-humoured, always laughing, never a bore, takes his pinch after dinner, plays a rubber, and beats me at chess—and he is a gentleman.”

The subject of the next sketch to be quoted is Harry Goodsir, the assistant-surgeon of the Erebus, who, though still young, was already well known as a naturalist of more than ordinary ability. Before taking up his appointment to the expedition he had been curator of the Edinburgh museum. “I can’t make out,” says Fitzjames, “why Scotchmen just caught always speak in a low, hesitating, monotonous tone of voice, which is not at all times to be understood; this is, I believe, called ‘cannyness.’ Mr Goodsir is ‘canny.’ He is long and straight, and walks upright on his toes, with his hands tucked up in each jacket pocket. He is perfectly good-humoured, very well informed on general points, in natural history learned, was curator of the Edinburgh museum, appears to be about twenty-eight years of age, laughs delightfully, cannot be in a passion, is enthusiastic about all ’ologies, draws the insides of microscopic animals with an imaginary pointed pencil, catches phenomena in a bucket, looks at the thermometer and every other meter, is a pleasant companion and an acquisition to the mess.”

Crouch, the mate, “is a little black-haired, smooth-faced fellow, good-humoured in his own way; writes, reads, works, draws, all quietly; is never in the way of anybody, and always ready when wanted; but I can find no remarkable point in his character, except, perhaps, that he is, I should think, obstinate. Stanley, the surgeon, ... is rather inclined to be good-looking, but fat, with jet-black hair, very white hands, which are always abominably clean, and the shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he would not mind cutting off one’s leg immediately—if not sooner.” Graham Gore, the first lieutenant, is “a man of great stability of character, a very good officer and the sweetest of tempers. He plays the flute dreadfully well, draws sometimes very well and sometimes very badly, but is altogether a capital fellow.”

The expedition was probably the happiest and the most united that ever set out from England, and some of Sir John’s kindly spirit seems to have been infused into all the members of the party. As an example of the good feeling which pervaded the whole crew, a little story concerning Osmer, the purser, may be quoted from Fitzjames’s diary. It occurred when the ships were off the Danish settlement of Disco, a spot where the scenery is grand but unutterably bleak and desolate. Fitzjames happened to go on deck at midnight, and there he found Osmer indulging in a little pas-seul. “What a happy fellow you are!” exclaimed Fitzjames, “always in a good humour.” “Well, sir,” said the purser, “if I am not happy here, I don’t know where else I could be.”

The first few days of July were spent off Disco, taking in supplies and generally making the last preparations for the Arctic journey. At this time the prospects of success seemed to be unusually bright. The season at Disco was the mildest and earliest ever known, and, in their last letters home, the officers asked their relations, in jest, to address their future correspondence to Petropaulovski, a seaport beyond the Behring Strait, on the coast of Asiatic Russia.

There is a passage in one of these letters, written by Lieutenant Fairholme, which we cannot refrain from quoting, as it forms the last tribute to Franklin that was penned during his life. “On board,” it runs, “we are as comfortable as it is possible to be. I need hardly tell you how much we are all delighted with our captain. He has, I am sure, won not only the respect, but the love of every person on board by his amiable manner and kindness to all, and his influence is always employed for some good purpose, both among the officers and men. He has been most successful in his selection of officers, and a more agreeable set could hardly be found. Sir John is in much better health than when we left England, and really looks ten years younger. He takes an active part in everything that goes on, and his long experience in such services as this makes him a most valuable adviser.”

On July 12 Franklin wrote his last official letter to the Admiralty. “The ships,” he says, “are now complete with supplies of every kind for three years; they are, therefore, very deep; but happily we have no reason to expect much sea as we proceed farther.... It is unnecessary to assure their lordships of the energy and zeal of Captain Crozier, Commander Fitzjames, and the officers and men with whom I have the happiness of being employed on this service.”

On the same day the Erebus and Terror sailed away north-west up the Waigat Strait. On the 26th they were sighted by the whaler The Prince of Wales, moored to an iceberg near the south entrance to Melville Bay, waiting for a favourable opportunity to round the middle ice and enter Lancaster Sound. The master of the whaler, Captain Dannett, was invited to dine with Sir John on the following day, but a favourable breeze sprang up, and the ships parted company. Captain Dannett was the last white man to set eyes on the ill-fated Erebus and Terror.

CHAPTER XIII
RAE AND THE BOOTHIA PENINSULA

In order to preserve the chronological order of events, it is now necessary to leave the Franklin expedition for a while, and to take up the thread of the exploration of Northern America where it was dropped by Dease and Simpson. It will be remembered that shortly before his untimely death Simpson had written a letter to the Governors of the Hudson’s Bay Company, suggesting that he should conduct an expedition along the undiscovered shores that lay between the Castor and Pollux River and Fury and Hecla Strait. Though he was destined never to know it, the plan was very favourably received by the directors, and their letter, conferring on him the sole command of the expedition, reached America very shortly after his death.

The immediate result of this sad event was that all plans for prosecuting the exploration of Northern America were held in abeyance for some years—till, indeed, 1845, when the news that England was fitting out a fresh expedition, with a view to discovering the North-West Passage, urged the Company on to further efforts. The command of the new expedition was offered by Sir George Simpson, who was still Governor-in-Chief of the Company’s territories, to Dr John Rae, then new to Arctic exploration, though he subsequently proved his worth, not only by the success which he achieved on the present journey, but also by the good work that he did in his search for Franklin.

The plan of campaign arranged by the Company differed materially from that originally propounded by Simpson. Simpson had proposed to travel eastward from the Castor and Pollux River and, after surveying Boothia Felix, to make his way, if possible, to Hudson’s Bay. Rae’s expedition, on the other hand, was to set out from Hudson’s Bay and to make its way up Rowe’s Welcome to Repulse Bay. There it was to cross the isthmus connecting the Melville Peninsula with the mainland, which, if the Eskimo stories were to be believed, was not more than three days’ journey, and, on reaching the sea on the other side, it was to push on till it had reached the point where either Ross or Dease and Simpson had left off. It must be remembered that at this time it was not known whether Boothia Felix was an island or a peninsula. If it proved to be the former, Rae was to make his way through the passage that divided it from the mainland and so into the Arctic Ocean. If the latter, he was to travel up its western shores until he reached some point that had been visited by the Rosses in the Victory.

The journey was likely to prove adventurous, for there was no degree of certainty that the party would be able to obtain sufficient provisions to keep them from starving. Rae was only to take two small boats with him, so that it would be impossible for him to equip himself with any great quantity of food, and he would be obliged to depend on such poor supplies as the barren country had to offer. As, therefore, it seemed more than probable that the party would have to face the unpleasing alternatives of being either starved or frozen to death, he had some difficulty at first in obtaining volunteers.

On June 1846, however, the preliminary difficulties having been overcome, Rae, with ten men, set out from York Factory. His boats, which were named the North Pole and the Magnet, were strong, clinker-built craft, 22 feet long by 7 feet 6 inches broad. In addition to the ordinary equipment, he carried an oiled canvas canoe and one of Halkett’s air-boats which had never been tried on one of these expeditions before, and proved eminently satisfactory.

The first part of the journey was necessarily slow, as in many cases the sea was still blocked with closely-packed ice, which needed careful negotiation. On July 24, however, the boats rounded Cape Hope and entered Repulse Bay, where the original exploration was to begin. On landing in Gibson Cove, they came upon a party of Eskimos, from whom they learnt the good news that the isthmus was not more than forty miles across, and that over a full thirty-five miles of this distance a chain of lakes afforded a waterway.

On the following morning the ladies of the tribe paid Rae a state visit. “They were all tattooed on the face,” he writes, “the form on each being nearly the same, viz. a number of curved lines drawn from between the eyebrows up over the forehead, two lines across the cheek from near the nose towards the ear, and a number of diverging curved lines from the lower lip towards the chin and lower jaw. Their hands and arms were much tattooed from the tip of the finger to the shoulder. Their hair was collected in two large bunches, one on each side of the head, and, a piece of stick about ten inches long and half an inch thick being placed among it, a strip of different-coloured deer-skin is wound round it in a spiral form, producing far from an unpleasing effect. They all had ivory combs of their own manufacture, and deer-skin clothes with the hair outwards; the only difference between their dresses and those of the men being that the coats of the former had much larger hoods (which are used for carrying children), in having a flap before as well as behind, and also in the greater capacity of their boots, which come high above the knee, and are kept up by being fastened to the girdle.” Curiously enough, one of these women had visited the Fury and Hecla twenty-three years before, and among her most prized possessions were some beads which Parry had given her.

With immense labour the boats were dragged up the stream which connects Repulse Bay with the chain of lakes, and the serious work of the expedition began. Rae found that he had not been misled by the stories of the Eskimos, and by August 1 he was on the shores of Committee Bay, the southernmost arm of Prince Regent Inlet. His first hope was that he would be able to sail round the bay and survey its shores. Ice and fog, however, rendered this quite impossible, so he decided, as there seemed to be no chance of the ice breaking up that season, to turn back to Repulse Bay and to hope for better luck in the following summer.

Game, fortunately, was plentiful at that time of the year, and the doctor, who was an enthusiastic sportsman and an excellent shot, soon relieved his party of any dread that they might have of death from starvation. The sporting-book for September showed that 63 deer, 5 hares, 1 seal, 172 partridges, and 116 salmon and trout were brought into Fort Hope—the name given to their winter quarters—while in September he accounted for 69 deer. Fuel, however, was exceedingly scarce, and, as bitterly cold weather set in in the middle of October, the party was put to no small inconvenience. At first the frost was hailed as an unmixed blessing, for it hardened the wet clay with which the walls of the house had been dressed, and made the place weatherproof. Anything that was at all damp, however, was instantly frozen solid, and when Rae attempted to open some books which had been lying on a shelf, he found their leaves a solid mass. As fuel grew scarcer, the doctor forbad its use for any purpose except cooking, and a member of the party who wished to dry his wet clothes was obliged to take them to bed with him. The evaporation arising from them always froze on the blankets, which in consequence generally sparkled with hoar frost.

Almost the only form of exercise which the party was able to take was an occasional game of football on the snow. These games were not unattended by difficulties, for the snow was so hard that several pairs of heels were usually to be seen in the air at the same time, while the air was so bitter that the players were obliged to rub their faces continually in order to prevent them from being frost-bitten. A part of the time was also spent by the men in mastering the art of building snow houses after the Eskimo fashion, an accomplishment which proved of inestimable service to them later on when they were engaged in the exploration of Boothia and Melville Peninsula.

At this time the Eskimos of the neighbourhood engaged a good deal of Rae’s attention. They appear to have been an extraordinarily hardy race, who suffered no inconvenience even in the bitterest cold. On one occasion he found a member of the tribe engaged in repairing the runners of his sledge. “The substance used,” he writes, “was a mixture of moss chopped up very fine, and snow soaked in water, lumps of which are firmly pressed on the sledge with the bare hand, and smoothed over so as to have an even surface. The process occupied the man nearly an hour, during the whole of which time he did not put his hands in his mits, nor did he appear to feel the cold much, although the temperature was 30° below zero.” On another occasion he paid a visit to their camp, where he acquired the interesting intelligence that it was their custom to strip off all their clothes before retiring to bed even in the depth of winter. They kept their huts comparatively warm, however, by an ever-burning lamp, and Rae observed with some astonishment that, during the visit in question, his waistcoat thawed. That article of his attire had been frozen solid some time before by the congelation of his breath, and had had no opportunity of returning to its normal condition in his own comfortless quarters.

On April 5 Rae started off on his second journey across the isthmus which now bears his name, his object being to explore the western shores of Committee Bay and to discover whether any waterway led westward from it to the Arctic seas. With the details of the journey we need scarcely concern ourselves, for it was not enlivened by any incident of special interest. It will be sufficient to say that his efforts were attended by complete success, for on April 18 he reached Lord Mayor’s Bay, the most southern point reached by Ross, thus completing the discovery of the southern and western shores of Prince Regent’s Inlet, and proving that Boothia was a peninsula.

Having duly taken possession of the newly-discovered country in the name of the Queen, he set out on the return journey to Fort Hope, which he reached on May 5. The eastern shores of Prince Regent Inlet still remained to be explored, and as the season was early, Rae decided to waste no time in setting about that part of his task. Accordingly he only rested at Fort Hope for a few days, and then, taking with him four men and a good supply of provisions, he set off again. By May 27 they were close to Cape Ellice, which is within ten miles or so of Fury and Hecla Strait. The journey, however, had been exceedingly exhausting and food was running short, so Rae decided that it would be madness to attempt to push his exploration any further. Accordingly the party turned homewards again and arrived at Fort Hope early in June, tired and very thin, but in excellent spirits. They finally reached York Factory on September 6, after a most successful journey, in the course of which they had discovered several hundred miles of unknown coast-line and had considerably reduced the area in which the North-West Passage must be sought.

CHAPTER XIV
THE FRANKLIN SEARCH BEGUN

It was in the summer of 1847 that serious doubts concerning the safety of the Franklin expedition were first entertained and the Government decided to take steps towards its relief. As we have already seen, the Erebus and Terror were last sighted in Lancaster Sound, and there was no means of knowing in what direction they had sailed from that day onwards. Accordingly, it was thought best to send out relief parties from the east, through Lancaster Sound, from the west, through Behring Strait, and from the south, to search the northern shores to America.

The first of these to start was that which was to attempt to meet Franklin by way of Behring Strait. The Herald (Captain Kellett), a survey ship of 500 tons was already near the scene of action, and it was decided to reinforce her with the Plover, a store ship of 213 tons, under Commander Moore, and to send these two ships on a voyage round the North American coast to the Mackenzie River.

The Plover proved herself to be a very poor sailor, and it was not until June 1849 that the two ships met at their appointed rendezvous in Kotzebue Sound. Here they were joined by the Nancy Dawson, a small yacht owned and commanded by Mr Robert Sheddon, who had sailed north with a view to taking part in the search. The three ships sailed north in company, and, on reaching Wainwright Inlet, despatched three boats, filled to the brim with provisions and commanded by Lieutenant Pullen, on the long journey to the Mackenzie River. Mr Sheddon determined to accompany Lieutenant Pullen for a part of his journey, but the Herald and Plover sailed on and explored the waters to the north of Behring Strait. Beyond discovering the two islands which now bear their names, however, they accomplished but little.

By September 2 the two government ships and the Nancy Dawson were all lying in Kotzebue Sound, where it had been decided that the Plover should spend the winter. After supplying the wants of her companion ship, the Herald sailed away south with the Nancy Dawson, reaching Mazatlan, on the coast of Mexico, at the beginning of October. Mr Sheddon, who had been in failing health for some time, did not survive the winter.

In the meanwhile, Moore, of the Plover, opened up communications with the natives round Kotzebue Sound in the hope that he might obtain tidings of Franklin. The result was that circumstantial tales concerning white men travelling in the interior, were poured into his ears, and, in attempting to verify these, Bedford Pim very nearly lost his life. Neither then, however, nor in the summer, when the Herald and Plover made a cruise round the coast, could they discover that these stories had any foundation in fact, nor did their search give them any reason to suppose that Franklin and his party had approached the shores along which they were sailing.

Lieutenant Pullen’s boat expedition to the Mackenzie met with no better success. Cramped up in open boats which were in constant danger of being wrecked by gales or the drifting ice, he and his men suffered tortures from cold and exposure, and the difficulties and dangers of their 1500-mile journey were enhanced by the unfriendliness of the natives. The winter was spent at the various stations of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and, in the following spring, Pullen set out again for the shores of the Polar Sea. The conditions, however, were such as to preclude any possibility of success, and he was obliged to turn back before he had even reached the point at which his search proper was to have begun.

The conduct of the first overland journey was entrusted to Richardson, who, with Rae as his lieutenant, was commissioned to search the coast of North America from the Mackenzie to the Coppermine. The Polar Sea was reached without misadventure, but from that point onwards the journey proved dangerous and difficult, as owing to the lateness of the spring they were obliged to cache their boats and make a great part of it on foot. In the following year Rae returned to the mouth of the Coppermine only to find that the natives had discovered the boats and had broken them up for the sake of the copper fastenings. Any sea voyage was, therefore, out of the question, and, after cross-examining the Eskimos and sweeping the shores of Wollaston Land with a telescope, he was obliged to return to headquarters at Fort Confidence.

The first two attempts at conducting the search through Lancaster Sound were not a conspicuous success. Sir James Clark Ross started off in the Enterprise and Investigator and explored most of Prince Regent Inlet and the northern gulf of Boothia, but without obtaining any clues to Franklin’s fate, while, in the following year, Saunders, who was sent out in the North Star with provisions for Ross, was caught in the ice and never succeeded in reaching his destination.

In 1851, however, the search was prosecuted with far greater vigour, and no fewer than five expeditions left British and American shores almost simultaneously. Of these, the Government sent out two, one consisting of four ships, the Resolute and the Assistance, with their steam tenders, the Pioneer and the Intrepid, commanded by Captain Horatio Austin, with Captain Ommaney, Lieutenant Osborn, and Lieutenant Cator under him, and the other of two whalers, the Lady Franklin and the Sophia, under William Penny, a whaler of great repute, who, it was hoped, would meet with rather more success in battling with the ice than did his predecessors, Ross and Saunders. Two private expeditions also set out from England, one of them, the Prince Albert, having been equipped by Lady Franklin, while the other, the Felix, was placed under the command of Ross. The American expedition consisted of the Advance and the Rescue, with Lieutenant De Haven at the head of affairs.

Unfortunately, all of these expeditions had one common objective—to pass up Lancaster Sound and examine the shores of Wellington Channel, the south-east entrance to which they reached almost simultaneously. It was now that the first traces of the missing explorers were found, for, going ashore on Beechey Island on August 23, Ommaney discovered signs that a party of white men had encamped there, and Penny, examining the spot four days later, came upon the graves of four men belonging to the Erebus and Terror. In addition to the graves there was a hut, some pieces of rope of the pattern used in the Navy, and such miscellaneous odds and ends as torn mits, fragments of writing paper, meat-tins, and coal-bags, but, search as they would, they could find no sign of any written document such as might give some hint as to the direction which Franklin had taken on leaving his winter quarters. At Cape Riley again traces were found in abundance, but no information of any value was forthcoming.

Leaving his companions to follow up these discoveries, Forsyth instantly made his way back to England. De Haven also intended to return home, but the ice intervened, and the American ships were firmly beset before they had left Wellington Channel. From that time onwards their experiences were much like those of the Terror. Drifting northward with the ice, they were carried up to Grinnell Land, which had never been sighted before, and then, the drift changing to the south, they were borne down Wellington Channel along Lancaster Sound, and into Baffin Bay, till, after covering a distance of over a thousand miles in this fashion, they were finally released in July.

There was now nothing for the other three parties to do but to find winter quarters, whence they might prosecute the search as soon as spring made it possible for them to send out sledging parties. The Lady Franklin, the Sophia, and the Felix, therefore, put into Assistance Bay, at the south end of Cornwallis Land, while Austin and his squadron made for Griffith Island, where they were frozen in in September.

It was Penny’s special duty to explore the shores of Wellington Channel, and, as soon as the worst of the winter was over, he and Petersen started out with this end in view. As they pushed northward, they became more and more convinced that the channel led into a great open sea, and they had already determined to pursue their investigations further in this direction as soon as summer should have released the ships, when, to their amazement, on rounding a headland, they came upon a great channel of water, stretching away for at least twenty-five miles to the northward, and probably further. Racing back to the ship with all possible speed, they obtained a boat and succeeded in dragging it over the ice to the scene of their discovery. Unfortunately, however, contrary winds and drifting floes made it impossible to proceed any further, and they were obliged to turn back without exploring the water-way and its shores.