CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER VIII.The Sledging Campaign Opens—A Push for the “Discovery”—Petersen Breaks Down—Shelter in a Snowdrift—Difficulties in Retreat—A First of April Chase—Programme of Spring Sledging—Limited Hopes—Departure of Main Detachments—Double Banking—The Camp—A Night in a Tent—A Typical Floeberg—The Hare’s Sanctuary—Coat of Arms—Castle Floe—Parhelia—Road-finding in the Fog—Mirage—A Crevasse.Illustrated capital letterTHE failure to communicate with H.M.S. “Discovery” in the autumn had to some extent disarranged our plans. Communication was absolutely necessary to ensure co-operation, and the sooner it was effected the better, for our consort had as much sledging work to get through as she could possibly complete in the season.Robeson Channel had to be crossed, and the rugged northern shore of Greenland explored in search of land poleward. Petermann’s Fiord had not yet been traversed, and Lady Franklin Sound might possibly open northwards, and afford a favourable route for the “Discovery’s” sledge-crews to penetrate as far as the shore of the Polar Sea.The short travelling season in the far north is limited on the one hand by the lingering cold of winter, and on the other by the summer thaw of the surface snow and the renewed motion of the ice. As soon, therefore, as travelling was at all possible, a dog sledge was got ready to carry despatches to our sister ship. Two energetic young officers and Niel Petersen the Dane were detailed for this duty. On the morning of 12th March everyone in the ship gathered on the floes to see them off. Their team of nine dogs carried the “Clements Markham” down the smooth ice of our exercise mile at a gallop, and in a few minutes the red and white sledge pennant with its crossed arrows was lost to sight amongst the hummocks off Cape Rawson.Three days passed in preparing the ship for spring, and the low temperature and strong wind made us think anxiously of our absent messmates, but we never for a moment supposed that they would suffer anything more than the recognised hardships of sledging in bad weather.On the evening of the third day, our heavy winter awning had just been taken down from over the deck, and the men were coming inboard after their day’s work, when some one caught sight of the dog sledge coming back to the ship. There were but two men running alongside, and they came on silently, without the usual joyful signalling that marks a returning party. Poor Petersen lay on the sledge, marvellously changed in three days, mottled with frost-bite, and apparently dying. His companions had succeeded in carrying him back to the ship only just in time. They themselves were much fatigued, and their fingers raw with frost-bites incurred in attempts to restore Petersen’s frozen limbs. When they had slept, as only tired men can, we heard their story.They had not been a day away when Petersen found he had greatly overrated his strength, and became unable to assist in the heavy work of guiding the sledge along the steep incline underthe cliffs, lowering the dogs and sledge down precipitous places, and hauling them up again. Next day he was badly frost-bitten, for a cramped and enfeebled man cannot long resist strong wind and a temperature of minus 34°. It was impossible either to proceed or retreat without risking his life, and the breeze freshened, so that they could not pitch the tent. The only course left was to dig a pit in the snow, which was, fortunately, somewhat hardened by the wind. So they at once set about shovelling out a hole, and when it was six feet deep they excavated it below till they got a space eight feet square. It took six hours’ hard labour before they were able to move Petersen, wrapped up in the tent and tent robes, into it, and cover the top closely in with the sledge and drifting snow. But once well covered in, and the sledge lamp lit, they had the satisfaction of seeing the temperature rise to 7° above zero. But Petersen could not be warmed. They made tea for him—he could not take it; pemmican disagreed with him; and a little soup was made from the Australian meat carried for the dogs. By turns they chafed his limbs for hours at a time, and thawed his frozen feet under their own clothes, Eskimo fashion, then swathed feet and hands in their flannel wrappers, and lay close on either side trying to warm him; but in a very short time, although he said his feet were warm and comfortable, they were found frozen so hard that the toes could not be bent, and the whole process had to be gone through again. For a day and a night they struggled in this way against the fatal cold, and then, fortunately for them, the wind lessened, and leaving provisions and fuel, dogs’ food, and all that could be dispensed with, behind, they took the only course open to them, and struck out for the ship. The only possible road was the one they had come, and it was rugged in the extreme. On the left rose high cliffs banked with treacherous snow, and on the right rounded and broken ice piled in towers and pinnacles upon the shore. In some places round headlands it was utterly impossible to get the sledge safely past with the man and tent robes lashed on it, and one had to help him round as best he could, while the other held in the eager dogs and tried to guide the sledge. The poor brutes were so anxious to get back to the ship that constant halts were necessary to disentangle their harness, no easy task with frost-bitten fingers. The last headland was the worst. In spite of every effort the sledge slipped sideways, then upset, and rolled down into a deep ditch, turning over three times as it went, and dragging the dogs after it. When it was at length got out, a comparatively smooth road lay before them, and they drew up alongside the ship, most thankful that their comrade was still able to recognise the friends that crowded round him. For days the poor fellow lay in a very uncertain state. Severe amputations were unavoidable, but he rallied wonderfully for a time, and when the main detachments of sledges left the ship we bade him a hopeful good-bye.Five days passed before the weather became calm enough for a second attempt southward, but on the 20th the dog-sledge again started for the “Discovery.” The settled weather that favoured our travellers this time, enabled us to take active measures to prepare our sledge crews for their coming work. Each day a pair of crews left the ship for practice with their sledges, and thus a store of pemmican, bacon, &c., was deposited at Black Cape to help forward the Greenland division of sledges from the “Discovery.”Before breakfast on 1st of April a man came down with a report that a large white animal had just been seen a quarter of a mile from the ship. This seemed a very extraordinary piece of news, for our walking parties had scoured the whole country, sometimes as much as thirteen hours away from the ship, without finding even a track of game, and had as yet brought nothing on board except one small white feather from the breast of a ptarmigan or snowy owl.The general opinion at first sight was that the date added a peculiar significance to the story, but at any rate it was advisable to lose no time in seeing whether the mysterious animal was sufficiently “materialised” to leave any tracks. Accordingly two of us took our rifles, and sure enough we found a large wolf track at the spot indicated. For hours we patiently followed the marks. They took us a long circuit shoreward. There appeared to be three animals, but we could not be certain, for the track often doubled on itself. All at once an unpleasant suspicion flashed across us—could it be that anything had happened to our travellers, and that we were following their dogs in mistake for wolves? The tracks were very large, measuring as much as six inches long by four and a-half wide, and the centre nails were long, and turned outwards. While we debated, our suspicions were set at rest by a loud howl, not as prolonged as a black Canadian wolf’s, but wolfish certainly, for there was no mistaking the fierce misery of the note. He had caught sight of us, and, as usual with his species, given a view halloo. Presently we saw him, three hundred yards off—a gaunt, yellowish white beast—cantering along at a swift slouching gait. When we stopped, he stopped. We lay down, and one of us rolled off on the snow out of sight, and made a long detour in hope of surprising him, but he seemed to know the range of our rifles to a nicety, and at length we saw him canter off southwards unharmed by the long shots we sent after him. As we walked back, we could not but wonder what had induced wolves to come north into a desert where for miles and miles there was not so much as a stone above the snow. The mystery was soon explained. Tracks of four hunted musk oxen were found a couple of miles off. No doubt the wolves had driven them from some southern feeding-ground. They travelled so rapidly that our hunting party despatched after them failed even to catch sight of them.The discovery that there was some game in the country was a very cheering one. If it was not a land flowing with milk and honey, it was at any rate not so bad as it might be, and we went back to our sledging preparations with a hope that we should fall in with either the wolves or the oxen during our travels.The weather was now sufficiently settled to warrant the departure of the main travelling parties. It was arranged that they should consist of two separate divisions of eight-men sledges. Lieutenant Aldrich, with the sledge “Challenger,” would explore the shore to the north-west in search of land trending northward. He would be supported by Lieutenant Giffard’s sledge, the “Poppie,” which would travel with the “Challenger” to a distant point, re-provision her there, return to Floeberg Beach, and then carry out depôts of food and fuel for the “Challenger’s” homeward journey.The northern division, under the command of Captain Markham, would consist of his sledge, the “Marco Polo,” and Lieutenant Parr’s, the “Victoria,” supported by the “Alexandra,” commanded by Mr. White, and the writer’s own sledge, the “Bulldog.” In addition to these, a four-man sledge led by Briant, a petty officer of H.M.S. “Discovery,” would help us forward for three or four days. The routes of both detachments lay together as far as Cape Joseph Henry. At that point the northern parties would replenish their stores from the supporting sledges and from the large depôt of pemmican placed there in the autumn, then, leaving the land, endeavour to force a passage due northward over the floes. Meantime, a depôt for their return would be carried out by the “Bulldog,” and left at some suitable spot at Cape Joseph Henry. Owing to the impossibility of depositing autumn or, indeed, any other depôts, sledge-travellingaway from a coasthas never yet been carried to any distance. We looked upon this attempt in thelight of a more than doubtful experiment. It nevertheless promised a higher northern latitude than the coast-line route. When we compared notes amongst ourselves after we had started, one or two thought that N. lat. 86° might be attainable, but the majority drew the line at 85°.CAMP OF SLEDGE PARTY.On the morning of 3rd April all hands mustered for the last time on the floes beside the ship. The final preparations were complete, and our seven heavily-laden sledges lay ranged in a line, with their knotted drag-ropes stretched on the snow. When every point in their dress and outfit had been carefully inspected, the men closed together, and joined heartily in the short service read by the chaplain. All felt the serious nature of the work they were about to undertake, but nevertheless looked forward to it eagerly. Then the order was given, and the sledge crews took their places—fifty-three men and officers in all. A little group of twelve only remained by the ship, every one of them regretting that it was not their duty to share hard work and exposure with their messmates. With three cheers the men took leave of their comrades and of the gallant little ship that had so well sheltered them, and the whole detachment moved forwards. The last to leave us was the Captain. He walked on a little while with each sledge, giving us a few words of advice or encouragement before he bade us God-speed.Plate XI.—WINTER QUARTERS, FROM AMONGST THE FLOEBERGS, LOOKING SOUTH,March, 1876.—p.51.Decorative breakDrop Cap qQUARTER of a mile north of the “Alert” a field of polar floe had been pushed on shore, and split up into a number of floebergs, with lanes and streets between them. This view of our winter quarters was obtained from the top of one of the fragments. Beyond the ship Cape Rawson may be seen forming the western portal of Robeson Channel, while away across the strait the snowy hills of Greenland make the eastern.For a mile or more the sledges crept slowly along in the same order as they had started, dragging through the snow with much difficulty. The whole depth of the runners buried in the soft snow made them pull, as one of the men said, “like a plough with a cart-load on it.” The two leading sledges pulled the heaviest, though the weight per man was about equal in all. They carried specially-built boats, wonderfully light in proportion to their size, weighing respectively 740 and 440 lbs., but difficult to manage, because they distributed the weight over the whole length of the sledge. Every time a sledge stuck, it took a united effort with a “One, two, three, haul!” to start it forward again. Soon, in order to save the men, it became necessary to double-bank the sledges—that is to say, two crews pulled one sledge forward and then walked back for the other. Even the sledges without boats pulled very heavily. We could not but confess that thelabour was harder than we had expected, but if others had gone through it we could. Crews loaded with exactly the same stores as ours, and pulling the same 240 lbs. a man, had accomplished all the longest journeys on record. Every ounce of weight on each of the seven sledges had been carefully thought over. Not so much as an unnecessary screw was carried. The sledge-rifle, for example, had four inches cut off its barrel and all the brass-work removed from its stock. Both men and officers knew that no reduction was possible unless the number of days’ travel was curtailed, or some other change made in the well-tried arrangements of their successful predecessors. On one point, however, our parties deviated from precedent. Tea instead of rum for lunch was most decidedly an improvement.We camped early on the first day’s march. The spot selected was a little bay inside one of the curious hook-shaped promontories of the coast. The process of camping is a simple one. When camping-time comes, an officer goes on in advance and selects a flat piece of snow—a spot where it is soft for about six inches down is best. Then the sledge halts. Everything is unpacked. The cook of the day lights up his stearine lamp under a panful of snow for tea. The tent, with its poles already secured in it, is pitched, with its door away from the wind, and secured by ropes to the sledge at one end, and to a pickaxe driven into the snow or ice at the other; then a waterproof is spread over the snow inside, and over it a robe of duffle, a material like close blanket. The sleeping-bags and haversacks are next passed in, and the men, beginning with the innermost—for there is not room for all at once—change their snow-saturated moccasins and blanket wrappers for night pairs carried in the haversack. Moccasin, worsted stockings, and blanket wrappers all pull off together, frozen hard into one snowy mass about the foot. Meantime others are “banking up” snow all round the tent outside. Nothing adds more to the warmth of the tent than thorough “banking up.” In about an hour from the time of halting, every one, except the cook, is packed inside his bag. All wear close-fitting Berlin wool helmets, enclosing head and neck, and leaving only the face exposed; the men call them “Eugénies,” for they were the thoughtful gift of the Empress. The cook soon gives notice that tea is ready, and each man sits up in his bag and gets his pannikinful, softening his biscuit in it as it cools to a drinkable temperature. After tea comes half-a-pound of pemmican—a peppery mixture when one’s lips are blistered with hot and cold pannikins, and cracked with sun and frost. An ounce of preserved potato is warmed up with it, and greatly improves its flavour. When the cook has trimmed his lamp for the morning, and scraped out the pannikins, his duties are over, and he changes his foot coverings, wriggles into his bag, and squeezes himself down next the door. Finally, about half a wine-glassful of rum with a little water is served out all round. This, however injurious under other circumstances, helps to tide over the chilly moments when one’s frozen clothes melt, and acts much as a bellows does to a feeble fire. The heads soon disappear into the bags, and everyone goes to sleep as fast as the cold and cramp in his feet and legs will let him.The hardships of sledging are made up of innumerable small worries. For the first two or three days we were all plagued with cramp; we could hardly bend up our knees to tie a moccasin or put on a foot wrapper without being obliged to kick out suddenly, overbalancing ourselves and our neighbours into a general mêlée, like a row at Donnybrook Fair. When the men began to get warm in their bags, muffled remarks about the cramp gradually gave place to smothered snores that would last till morning, and then the performers would wake with a firm conviction that they had never slept at all. On our first night of spring sledging the temperature fell to minus 35°, and many lay awake with the cold. Four nights afterwards it was nearly tendegrees colder, but the tents were better banked up and the under robes and coverlet better laced together; some of us, moreover, had discovered that turning the mouth of the bag under and lying on it greatly increased the warmth. The officer is the outside man at the end of the tent away from the door. It is his duty to call the cook the first thing in the morning. It is no easy thing to wake at the right hour when the sun shines impartially all the twenty-four. The watch is often consulted two or three times before five o’clock comes. Then the cook turns out, lights his lamp, has a pipe, sets some snow melting, and scrapes down cocoa for breakfast; afterwards he walks in over his sleeping companions, and brushes down the snowy festoons of frozen breath hanging from the tent.THE DAY’S MARCH DONE.Cocoa and pemmican are disposed of soon after seven. The frozen blanket wrappers and moccasins that have served for a pillow have to be got on again, and about eight the sledge is again ready to start. Packing is cold work, and everybody is anxious to be off and get up a little warmth with exercise.In our next day’s march we visited the snow-house built by Petersen in the autumn, and found its roof level with the snow. A fox had taken up his quarters in it, and made very free with the dog biscuit. That night we camped near a conspicuous mass of ice on the shore of a small island. The spot afterwards became a well-known landmark. Partly by accident, and partly because the striking piles of ice made a definite point to march for, the numerous shorter sledge parties often halted there for lunch or camp. Upon one such occasion the drawing reproducedin this book was obtained (Plate No. 12). The floeberg itself was not a very large one, but it afforded an excellent example of the structure of polar floe. We could not but wonder what enormous force had pushed it upwards on the sloping beach till its flat upper surface stood forty feet above the floes around it. The lower half was made of what may be called conglomerate ice, the upper was stratified with the usual white and blue layers—white where the ice was spongy with air-cells, blue in the denser layers between. High overhead might be seen a section, in olive-tinted ice, of what had once been a summer pool, and on top of all, like sugar on a cake, lay last season’s snow, slowly condensing into ice.Plate XII.—A FLOEBERG, SIMMON’S ISLAND, April, 1876.—p.59.Decorative breakDrop Cap tTHE great stratified masses of salt ice that lie grounded along the shores of the Polar Sea are nothing more than fragments broken from the edges of the perennial floes. We called them floebergs in order to distinguish them from, and yet express their kinship to, icebergs—the latter and their parent glaciers belong to more southern regions. Partly because it was a conspicuous point to push on for before halting for lunch, the floeberg on Simmon’s Island became a familiar landmark in the many trips of the supporting sledges across Black Cliff Bay; and the chill hour while tea was preparing was often spent in speculating on the enormous force required to push the huge square mass so high on shore.A day’s march beyond the island and its floebergs we came to a spot where many traces of game had been seen in the autumn, but after a long search, while the sledges halted to take in a depôt of pemmican, we only found one hare track, and it led down over the crest of an inaccessible cliff, so we returned to camp empty-handed. During the night we reflected that it was a pity to lose nine pounds of fresh meat without another effort; so in the morning, while the sledges were packed, we walked along the floes to a point under where the tracks had been lost, and by carefully searching the crest of the cliff with a telescope the tracks were discovered and traced downwards, along narrow ledges and abrupt slopes, to a sheltered nook, half way down the cliff, that looked utterly inaccessible to anything but a bird. There, in her sanctuary, poor pussy sat, in fancied security, till the rifle brought her tumbling downwards to the floes just as the last sledge reached the spot. This solitary hare was the only fresh food procured by our northern sledge-crews. From henceforth they were beyond the limits of game, and in this one condition our parties differed widely from those whose precedent they were attempting to follow. The longest journeys ever accomplished were made by Sir Leopold M’Clintock and Lieutenant Meecham. The former obtained forty-six head of game, including eight reindeer and seven musk oxen; the latter no less than seventy-seven head, including nine deer and four oxen.Our party was now reduced to six sledges. The seventh returned, as had been arranged, carrying with them a man who had been an invalid since the day after leaving the ship. From this point the road lay due northward over floes half-a-mile wide, with hedges of hummocks between them. The surface looked smooth enough, but it was only a crust over soft snow, and broke under one’s weight into slabs most uncomfortable to travel over. Nothing can exceed the monotony of sledge-travelling. Day after day the same routine is gone through; day after day the same endless ice is the only thing in sight. A dark stone projecting above the snow on a cape we were approaching was the only coloured thing in sight for two whole marches, and it had a most disagreeable fascination for our eyes. In order to compensate for this blankness of scenery, every man had been advised to decorate the back of his holland overall with such devices as seemed good to him. Accordingly the back view of our sledge-crews was an extraordinary spectacle. One man’s back bore a large black anchor with the motto “Hold fast,” another displayed a complicated hieroglyphic savouring of Freemasonry. Here was a locomotive engine careering over a beautifully green sod, and on the next back a striking likeness of the Tichborne claimant bespoke the bearer’s admiration for the “distressed nobleman.” Here, again, was an artistic effort which had cost its author many a week of painstaking execution, but neither he nor anyone else could tell what it was. Union-jacks, twelve-ton guns, and highly mythical polar bears, were of course common. These decorations were most useful in identifying the various men—no easy matter when all were dressed alike, and every face was swollen and blistered with sun and frost, and blackened with stearine smoke.On 7th April, some difference of temperature in the still air treated us to a display of mirage. Almost all day long, as we marched forwards, the conical mountains of Cape Joseph Henry raised themselves up in pale shadow against the sky, and spread out into great flat table-lands, spanning the valleys with bridges, and constantly flickering into new shapes.Plate XIII.—ON THE NORTHERN MARCH, April 8, 1876.—p.60.Decorative breakDrop Cap oON the sixth day’s march of the united northern and western parties from the ship, this sketch was outlined in pencil while the sledges passed across a floe, little if at all under one hundred and fifty feet in thickness. Like most heavy floes, its edges were piled with rubble ice, cemented and smoothed off with snow-drift, showing a perpendicular wall outside, but sloping inside to the general undulating surface. The easiest road lay right across it, and with the aid of picks a natural gap in its walls was soon converted into a practicable path. The united crews of the “Bulldog” and “Marco Polo” are hauling the latter sledge down through the gap, while the “Challenger’s” and “Poppie’s” have just reached the spot with the first of their sledges.On the seventh day’s march we crossed a floe so much raised above its fellows that it got the name of “The Castle.” Its surface was about an acre in extent, and, judging from its height over the water, it could not be less than one hundred feet—perhaps one hundred and fifty—in thickness. It was walled in all round by lines ofdébris, piled upon its edges and cemented together with snow, perpendicular outside, but sloping inwards, so that the inside looked like a vast saucer. The easiest road for the sledges lay right across it. Several breaches occurred in its walls, and with the aid of picks they were soon made practicable. A sketch made as the boats passed across represents a scene familiar to many of our sledge parties, for “Castle Floe” was subsequently crossed on no less than thirteen separate occasions (Plate No. 13).CREVASSE NEAR CAPE JOSEPH HENRY.Sunlight amongst the ice is often very beautiful, but at the same time very inconvenient. It had already peeled our faces, now it attacked our eyes. Every crystal of snow reflected a miniature sun, and the path of the rays seemed literally sown with gems, topaz and sapphire generally, but here and there a ruby. Similar colours, but with a curious metallic lustre like oil on water, tinted the fleecy clouds overhead, and the sun itself was almost always surrounded by circles similar to those seen round the moon in winter, but exquisitely rich and brilliant in rainbow-hued colour. No painter could hope to produce the faintest resemblance to such effects. The light was in fact altogether too bright for mortals, and we could only face it with goggles on. The gem-like gleams especially produced a quick pain in the back of the eye that considerably lessened their æsthetic effect. The officers, who have to travel well in advance and climb hummocks to find a road forthe sledges, cannot wear goggles continuously; vapour from the eye freezes on the inside of the glass, and it requires the keenest sight to detect differences of level and distance in the white blank of the prospect. On our eighth day’s journey a faint mist took away all shadow from the ice, and though a man might be seen several hundred yards off, it was quite impossible to tell whether the next step was up or down, into a hole, or against a hummock. That day, pioneering was done rather by touch than sight. When the fog lifted, we found ourselves close to Cape Joseph Henry, and next forenoon the depôt left there in the autumn was transferred to the advancing sledges.Half-a-mile northward from the depôt, a bank of snow, evidently the accumulation of ages, sloped down from a small hill to the sea. In one place a great slice of the bank had broken bodily from the mass above, leaving a deep crevasse. This was bridged over and completely concealed, except in two places, where the roof had fallen in and exposed its perpendicular walls of green ice streaked with layers of earth and sand. The bank was in fact a miniature “discharging glacier,” the only one yet met with on this coast. A few yards below the openings, the bridge was strong enough to bear the heavily-laden sledges of the western parties. Their course lay through the valley to the left, for though the snow on shore was in many places soft and deep, a short cut across the isthmus promised better travelling than the crush of floes round the cape. The prospects of the northern party were less encouraging. Looking northward from the hill over the crevasse, an icy chaos spread to the horizon. Mirage every now and then raised lines and flakes of distant pack into view, but all as rough and rugged as the ice-floes at our feet.The detachments separated on 11th April. We of the supporting sledges bade both good-bye with three cheers, and watched them slowly wind out of sight amongst the hummocks, the one to the westward, the other poleward; and as we retraced our steps on the return journey, their “One, two, three, haul!” came faintly to us across the ice.MIRAGE, 7TH APRIL, 1875.++

CHAPTER VIII.

The Sledging Campaign Opens—A Push for the “Discovery”—Petersen Breaks Down—Shelter in a Snowdrift—Difficulties in Retreat—A First of April Chase—Programme of Spring Sledging—Limited Hopes—Departure of Main Detachments—Double Banking—The Camp—A Night in a Tent—A Typical Floeberg—The Hare’s Sanctuary—Coat of Arms—Castle Floe—Parhelia—Road-finding in the Fog—Mirage—A Crevasse.

Illustrated capital letter

THE failure to communicate with H.M.S. “Discovery” in the autumn had to some extent disarranged our plans. Communication was absolutely necessary to ensure co-operation, and the sooner it was effected the better, for our consort had as much sledging work to get through as she could possibly complete in the season.

Robeson Channel had to be crossed, and the rugged northern shore of Greenland explored in search of land poleward. Petermann’s Fiord had not yet been traversed, and Lady Franklin Sound might possibly open northwards, and afford a favourable route for the “Discovery’s” sledge-crews to penetrate as far as the shore of the Polar Sea.

The short travelling season in the far north is limited on the one hand by the lingering cold of winter, and on the other by the summer thaw of the surface snow and the renewed motion of the ice. As soon, therefore, as travelling was at all possible, a dog sledge was got ready to carry despatches to our sister ship. Two energetic young officers and Niel Petersen the Dane were detailed for this duty. On the morning of 12th March everyone in the ship gathered on the floes to see them off. Their team of nine dogs carried the “Clements Markham” down the smooth ice of our exercise mile at a gallop, and in a few minutes the red and white sledge pennant with its crossed arrows was lost to sight amongst the hummocks off Cape Rawson.

Three days passed in preparing the ship for spring, and the low temperature and strong wind made us think anxiously of our absent messmates, but we never for a moment supposed that they would suffer anything more than the recognised hardships of sledging in bad weather.

On the evening of the third day, our heavy winter awning had just been taken down from over the deck, and the men were coming inboard after their day’s work, when some one caught sight of the dog sledge coming back to the ship. There were but two men running alongside, and they came on silently, without the usual joyful signalling that marks a returning party. Poor Petersen lay on the sledge, marvellously changed in three days, mottled with frost-bite, and apparently dying. His companions had succeeded in carrying him back to the ship only just in time. They themselves were much fatigued, and their fingers raw with frost-bites incurred in attempts to restore Petersen’s frozen limbs. When they had slept, as only tired men can, we heard their story.

They had not been a day away when Petersen found he had greatly overrated his strength, and became unable to assist in the heavy work of guiding the sledge along the steep incline underthe cliffs, lowering the dogs and sledge down precipitous places, and hauling them up again. Next day he was badly frost-bitten, for a cramped and enfeebled man cannot long resist strong wind and a temperature of minus 34°. It was impossible either to proceed or retreat without risking his life, and the breeze freshened, so that they could not pitch the tent. The only course left was to dig a pit in the snow, which was, fortunately, somewhat hardened by the wind. So they at once set about shovelling out a hole, and when it was six feet deep they excavated it below till they got a space eight feet square. It took six hours’ hard labour before they were able to move Petersen, wrapped up in the tent and tent robes, into it, and cover the top closely in with the sledge and drifting snow. But once well covered in, and the sledge lamp lit, they had the satisfaction of seeing the temperature rise to 7° above zero. But Petersen could not be warmed. They made tea for him—he could not take it; pemmican disagreed with him; and a little soup was made from the Australian meat carried for the dogs. By turns they chafed his limbs for hours at a time, and thawed his frozen feet under their own clothes, Eskimo fashion, then swathed feet and hands in their flannel wrappers, and lay close on either side trying to warm him; but in a very short time, although he said his feet were warm and comfortable, they were found frozen so hard that the toes could not be bent, and the whole process had to be gone through again. For a day and a night they struggled in this way against the fatal cold, and then, fortunately for them, the wind lessened, and leaving provisions and fuel, dogs’ food, and all that could be dispensed with, behind, they took the only course open to them, and struck out for the ship. The only possible road was the one they had come, and it was rugged in the extreme. On the left rose high cliffs banked with treacherous snow, and on the right rounded and broken ice piled in towers and pinnacles upon the shore. In some places round headlands it was utterly impossible to get the sledge safely past with the man and tent robes lashed on it, and one had to help him round as best he could, while the other held in the eager dogs and tried to guide the sledge. The poor brutes were so anxious to get back to the ship that constant halts were necessary to disentangle their harness, no easy task with frost-bitten fingers. The last headland was the worst. In spite of every effort the sledge slipped sideways, then upset, and rolled down into a deep ditch, turning over three times as it went, and dragging the dogs after it. When it was at length got out, a comparatively smooth road lay before them, and they drew up alongside the ship, most thankful that their comrade was still able to recognise the friends that crowded round him. For days the poor fellow lay in a very uncertain state. Severe amputations were unavoidable, but he rallied wonderfully for a time, and when the main detachments of sledges left the ship we bade him a hopeful good-bye.

Five days passed before the weather became calm enough for a second attempt southward, but on the 20th the dog-sledge again started for the “Discovery.” The settled weather that favoured our travellers this time, enabled us to take active measures to prepare our sledge crews for their coming work. Each day a pair of crews left the ship for practice with their sledges, and thus a store of pemmican, bacon, &c., was deposited at Black Cape to help forward the Greenland division of sledges from the “Discovery.”

Before breakfast on 1st of April a man came down with a report that a large white animal had just been seen a quarter of a mile from the ship. This seemed a very extraordinary piece of news, for our walking parties had scoured the whole country, sometimes as much as thirteen hours away from the ship, without finding even a track of game, and had as yet brought nothing on board except one small white feather from the breast of a ptarmigan or snowy owl.

The general opinion at first sight was that the date added a peculiar significance to the story, but at any rate it was advisable to lose no time in seeing whether the mysterious animal was sufficiently “materialised” to leave any tracks. Accordingly two of us took our rifles, and sure enough we found a large wolf track at the spot indicated. For hours we patiently followed the marks. They took us a long circuit shoreward. There appeared to be three animals, but we could not be certain, for the track often doubled on itself. All at once an unpleasant suspicion flashed across us—could it be that anything had happened to our travellers, and that we were following their dogs in mistake for wolves? The tracks were very large, measuring as much as six inches long by four and a-half wide, and the centre nails were long, and turned outwards. While we debated, our suspicions were set at rest by a loud howl, not as prolonged as a black Canadian wolf’s, but wolfish certainly, for there was no mistaking the fierce misery of the note. He had caught sight of us, and, as usual with his species, given a view halloo. Presently we saw him, three hundred yards off—a gaunt, yellowish white beast—cantering along at a swift slouching gait. When we stopped, he stopped. We lay down, and one of us rolled off on the snow out of sight, and made a long detour in hope of surprising him, but he seemed to know the range of our rifles to a nicety, and at length we saw him canter off southwards unharmed by the long shots we sent after him. As we walked back, we could not but wonder what had induced wolves to come north into a desert where for miles and miles there was not so much as a stone above the snow. The mystery was soon explained. Tracks of four hunted musk oxen were found a couple of miles off. No doubt the wolves had driven them from some southern feeding-ground. They travelled so rapidly that our hunting party despatched after them failed even to catch sight of them.

The discovery that there was some game in the country was a very cheering one. If it was not a land flowing with milk and honey, it was at any rate not so bad as it might be, and we went back to our sledging preparations with a hope that we should fall in with either the wolves or the oxen during our travels.

The weather was now sufficiently settled to warrant the departure of the main travelling parties. It was arranged that they should consist of two separate divisions of eight-men sledges. Lieutenant Aldrich, with the sledge “Challenger,” would explore the shore to the north-west in search of land trending northward. He would be supported by Lieutenant Giffard’s sledge, the “Poppie,” which would travel with the “Challenger” to a distant point, re-provision her there, return to Floeberg Beach, and then carry out depôts of food and fuel for the “Challenger’s” homeward journey.

The northern division, under the command of Captain Markham, would consist of his sledge, the “Marco Polo,” and Lieutenant Parr’s, the “Victoria,” supported by the “Alexandra,” commanded by Mr. White, and the writer’s own sledge, the “Bulldog.” In addition to these, a four-man sledge led by Briant, a petty officer of H.M.S. “Discovery,” would help us forward for three or four days. The routes of both detachments lay together as far as Cape Joseph Henry. At that point the northern parties would replenish their stores from the supporting sledges and from the large depôt of pemmican placed there in the autumn, then, leaving the land, endeavour to force a passage due northward over the floes. Meantime, a depôt for their return would be carried out by the “Bulldog,” and left at some suitable spot at Cape Joseph Henry. Owing to the impossibility of depositing autumn or, indeed, any other depôts, sledge-travellingaway from a coasthas never yet been carried to any distance. We looked upon this attempt in thelight of a more than doubtful experiment. It nevertheless promised a higher northern latitude than the coast-line route. When we compared notes amongst ourselves after we had started, one or two thought that N. lat. 86° might be attainable, but the majority drew the line at 85°.

CAMP OF SLEDGE PARTY.

On the morning of 3rd April all hands mustered for the last time on the floes beside the ship. The final preparations were complete, and our seven heavily-laden sledges lay ranged in a line, with their knotted drag-ropes stretched on the snow. When every point in their dress and outfit had been carefully inspected, the men closed together, and joined heartily in the short service read by the chaplain. All felt the serious nature of the work they were about to undertake, but nevertheless looked forward to it eagerly. Then the order was given, and the sledge crews took their places—fifty-three men and officers in all. A little group of twelve only remained by the ship, every one of them regretting that it was not their duty to share hard work and exposure with their messmates. With three cheers the men took leave of their comrades and of the gallant little ship that had so well sheltered them, and the whole detachment moved forwards. The last to leave us was the Captain. He walked on a little while with each sledge, giving us a few words of advice or encouragement before he bade us God-speed.

Plate XI.—WINTER QUARTERS, FROM AMONGST THE FLOEBERGS, LOOKING SOUTH,March, 1876.—p.51.

Decorative break

Drop Cap qQUARTER of a mile north of the “Alert” a field of polar floe had been pushed on shore, and split up into a number of floebergs, with lanes and streets between them. This view of our winter quarters was obtained from the top of one of the fragments. Beyond the ship Cape Rawson may be seen forming the western portal of Robeson Channel, while away across the strait the snowy hills of Greenland make the eastern.

Drop Cap q

QUARTER of a mile north of the “Alert” a field of polar floe had been pushed on shore, and split up into a number of floebergs, with lanes and streets between them. This view of our winter quarters was obtained from the top of one of the fragments. Beyond the ship Cape Rawson may be seen forming the western portal of Robeson Channel, while away across the strait the snowy hills of Greenland make the eastern.

For a mile or more the sledges crept slowly along in the same order as they had started, dragging through the snow with much difficulty. The whole depth of the runners buried in the soft snow made them pull, as one of the men said, “like a plough with a cart-load on it.” The two leading sledges pulled the heaviest, though the weight per man was about equal in all. They carried specially-built boats, wonderfully light in proportion to their size, weighing respectively 740 and 440 lbs., but difficult to manage, because they distributed the weight over the whole length of the sledge. Every time a sledge stuck, it took a united effort with a “One, two, three, haul!” to start it forward again. Soon, in order to save the men, it became necessary to double-bank the sledges—that is to say, two crews pulled one sledge forward and then walked back for the other. Even the sledges without boats pulled very heavily. We could not but confess that thelabour was harder than we had expected, but if others had gone through it we could. Crews loaded with exactly the same stores as ours, and pulling the same 240 lbs. a man, had accomplished all the longest journeys on record. Every ounce of weight on each of the seven sledges had been carefully thought over. Not so much as an unnecessary screw was carried. The sledge-rifle, for example, had four inches cut off its barrel and all the brass-work removed from its stock. Both men and officers knew that no reduction was possible unless the number of days’ travel was curtailed, or some other change made in the well-tried arrangements of their successful predecessors. On one point, however, our parties deviated from precedent. Tea instead of rum for lunch was most decidedly an improvement.

We camped early on the first day’s march. The spot selected was a little bay inside one of the curious hook-shaped promontories of the coast. The process of camping is a simple one. When camping-time comes, an officer goes on in advance and selects a flat piece of snow—a spot where it is soft for about six inches down is best. Then the sledge halts. Everything is unpacked. The cook of the day lights up his stearine lamp under a panful of snow for tea. The tent, with its poles already secured in it, is pitched, with its door away from the wind, and secured by ropes to the sledge at one end, and to a pickaxe driven into the snow or ice at the other; then a waterproof is spread over the snow inside, and over it a robe of duffle, a material like close blanket. The sleeping-bags and haversacks are next passed in, and the men, beginning with the innermost—for there is not room for all at once—change their snow-saturated moccasins and blanket wrappers for night pairs carried in the haversack. Moccasin, worsted stockings, and blanket wrappers all pull off together, frozen hard into one snowy mass about the foot. Meantime others are “banking up” snow all round the tent outside. Nothing adds more to the warmth of the tent than thorough “banking up.” In about an hour from the time of halting, every one, except the cook, is packed inside his bag. All wear close-fitting Berlin wool helmets, enclosing head and neck, and leaving only the face exposed; the men call them “Eugénies,” for they were the thoughtful gift of the Empress. The cook soon gives notice that tea is ready, and each man sits up in his bag and gets his pannikinful, softening his biscuit in it as it cools to a drinkable temperature. After tea comes half-a-pound of pemmican—a peppery mixture when one’s lips are blistered with hot and cold pannikins, and cracked with sun and frost. An ounce of preserved potato is warmed up with it, and greatly improves its flavour. When the cook has trimmed his lamp for the morning, and scraped out the pannikins, his duties are over, and he changes his foot coverings, wriggles into his bag, and squeezes himself down next the door. Finally, about half a wine-glassful of rum with a little water is served out all round. This, however injurious under other circumstances, helps to tide over the chilly moments when one’s frozen clothes melt, and acts much as a bellows does to a feeble fire. The heads soon disappear into the bags, and everyone goes to sleep as fast as the cold and cramp in his feet and legs will let him.

The hardships of sledging are made up of innumerable small worries. For the first two or three days we were all plagued with cramp; we could hardly bend up our knees to tie a moccasin or put on a foot wrapper without being obliged to kick out suddenly, overbalancing ourselves and our neighbours into a general mêlée, like a row at Donnybrook Fair. When the men began to get warm in their bags, muffled remarks about the cramp gradually gave place to smothered snores that would last till morning, and then the performers would wake with a firm conviction that they had never slept at all. On our first night of spring sledging the temperature fell to minus 35°, and many lay awake with the cold. Four nights afterwards it was nearly tendegrees colder, but the tents were better banked up and the under robes and coverlet better laced together; some of us, moreover, had discovered that turning the mouth of the bag under and lying on it greatly increased the warmth. The officer is the outside man at the end of the tent away from the door. It is his duty to call the cook the first thing in the morning. It is no easy thing to wake at the right hour when the sun shines impartially all the twenty-four. The watch is often consulted two or three times before five o’clock comes. Then the cook turns out, lights his lamp, has a pipe, sets some snow melting, and scrapes down cocoa for breakfast; afterwards he walks in over his sleeping companions, and brushes down the snowy festoons of frozen breath hanging from the tent.

THE DAY’S MARCH DONE.

Cocoa and pemmican are disposed of soon after seven. The frozen blanket wrappers and moccasins that have served for a pillow have to be got on again, and about eight the sledge is again ready to start. Packing is cold work, and everybody is anxious to be off and get up a little warmth with exercise.

In our next day’s march we visited the snow-house built by Petersen in the autumn, and found its roof level with the snow. A fox had taken up his quarters in it, and made very free with the dog biscuit. That night we camped near a conspicuous mass of ice on the shore of a small island. The spot afterwards became a well-known landmark. Partly by accident, and partly because the striking piles of ice made a definite point to march for, the numerous shorter sledge parties often halted there for lunch or camp. Upon one such occasion the drawing reproducedin this book was obtained (Plate No. 12). The floeberg itself was not a very large one, but it afforded an excellent example of the structure of polar floe. We could not but wonder what enormous force had pushed it upwards on the sloping beach till its flat upper surface stood forty feet above the floes around it. The lower half was made of what may be called conglomerate ice, the upper was stratified with the usual white and blue layers—white where the ice was spongy with air-cells, blue in the denser layers between. High overhead might be seen a section, in olive-tinted ice, of what had once been a summer pool, and on top of all, like sugar on a cake, lay last season’s snow, slowly condensing into ice.

Plate XII.—A FLOEBERG, SIMMON’S ISLAND, April, 1876.—p.59.

Decorative break

Drop Cap tTHE great stratified masses of salt ice that lie grounded along the shores of the Polar Sea are nothing more than fragments broken from the edges of the perennial floes. We called them floebergs in order to distinguish them from, and yet express their kinship to, icebergs—the latter and their parent glaciers belong to more southern regions. Partly because it was a conspicuous point to push on for before halting for lunch, the floeberg on Simmon’s Island became a familiar landmark in the many trips of the supporting sledges across Black Cliff Bay; and the chill hour while tea was preparing was often spent in speculating on the enormous force required to push the huge square mass so high on shore.

Drop Cap t

THE great stratified masses of salt ice that lie grounded along the shores of the Polar Sea are nothing more than fragments broken from the edges of the perennial floes. We called them floebergs in order to distinguish them from, and yet express their kinship to, icebergs—the latter and their parent glaciers belong to more southern regions. Partly because it was a conspicuous point to push on for before halting for lunch, the floeberg on Simmon’s Island became a familiar landmark in the many trips of the supporting sledges across Black Cliff Bay; and the chill hour while tea was preparing was often spent in speculating on the enormous force required to push the huge square mass so high on shore.

A day’s march beyond the island and its floebergs we came to a spot where many traces of game had been seen in the autumn, but after a long search, while the sledges halted to take in a depôt of pemmican, we only found one hare track, and it led down over the crest of an inaccessible cliff, so we returned to camp empty-handed. During the night we reflected that it was a pity to lose nine pounds of fresh meat without another effort; so in the morning, while the sledges were packed, we walked along the floes to a point under where the tracks had been lost, and by carefully searching the crest of the cliff with a telescope the tracks were discovered and traced downwards, along narrow ledges and abrupt slopes, to a sheltered nook, half way down the cliff, that looked utterly inaccessible to anything but a bird. There, in her sanctuary, poor pussy sat, in fancied security, till the rifle brought her tumbling downwards to the floes just as the last sledge reached the spot. This solitary hare was the only fresh food procured by our northern sledge-crews. From henceforth they were beyond the limits of game, and in this one condition our parties differed widely from those whose precedent they were attempting to follow. The longest journeys ever accomplished were made by Sir Leopold M’Clintock and Lieutenant Meecham. The former obtained forty-six head of game, including eight reindeer and seven musk oxen; the latter no less than seventy-seven head, including nine deer and four oxen.

Our party was now reduced to six sledges. The seventh returned, as had been arranged, carrying with them a man who had been an invalid since the day after leaving the ship. From this point the road lay due northward over floes half-a-mile wide, with hedges of hummocks between them. The surface looked smooth enough, but it was only a crust over soft snow, and broke under one’s weight into slabs most uncomfortable to travel over. Nothing can exceed the monotony of sledge-travelling. Day after day the same routine is gone through; day after day the same endless ice is the only thing in sight. A dark stone projecting above the snow on a cape we were approaching was the only coloured thing in sight for two whole marches, and it had a most disagreeable fascination for our eyes. In order to compensate for this blankness of scenery, every man had been advised to decorate the back of his holland overall with such devices as seemed good to him. Accordingly the back view of our sledge-crews was an extraordinary spectacle. One man’s back bore a large black anchor with the motto “Hold fast,” another displayed a complicated hieroglyphic savouring of Freemasonry. Here was a locomotive engine careering over a beautifully green sod, and on the next back a striking likeness of the Tichborne claimant bespoke the bearer’s admiration for the “distressed nobleman.” Here, again, was an artistic effort which had cost its author many a week of painstaking execution, but neither he nor anyone else could tell what it was. Union-jacks, twelve-ton guns, and highly mythical polar bears, were of course common. These decorations were most useful in identifying the various men—no easy matter when all were dressed alike, and every face was swollen and blistered with sun and frost, and blackened with stearine smoke.

On 7th April, some difference of temperature in the still air treated us to a display of mirage. Almost all day long, as we marched forwards, the conical mountains of Cape Joseph Henry raised themselves up in pale shadow against the sky, and spread out into great flat table-lands, spanning the valleys with bridges, and constantly flickering into new shapes.

Plate XIII.—ON THE NORTHERN MARCH, April 8, 1876.—p.60.

Decorative break

Drop Cap oON the sixth day’s march of the united northern and western parties from the ship, this sketch was outlined in pencil while the sledges passed across a floe, little if at all under one hundred and fifty feet in thickness. Like most heavy floes, its edges were piled with rubble ice, cemented and smoothed off with snow-drift, showing a perpendicular wall outside, but sloping inside to the general undulating surface. The easiest road lay right across it, and with the aid of picks a natural gap in its walls was soon converted into a practicable path. The united crews of the “Bulldog” and “Marco Polo” are hauling the latter sledge down through the gap, while the “Challenger’s” and “Poppie’s” have just reached the spot with the first of their sledges.

Drop Cap o

ON the sixth day’s march of the united northern and western parties from the ship, this sketch was outlined in pencil while the sledges passed across a floe, little if at all under one hundred and fifty feet in thickness. Like most heavy floes, its edges were piled with rubble ice, cemented and smoothed off with snow-drift, showing a perpendicular wall outside, but sloping inside to the general undulating surface. The easiest road lay right across it, and with the aid of picks a natural gap in its walls was soon converted into a practicable path. The united crews of the “Bulldog” and “Marco Polo” are hauling the latter sledge down through the gap, while the “Challenger’s” and “Poppie’s” have just reached the spot with the first of their sledges.

On the seventh day’s march we crossed a floe so much raised above its fellows that it got the name of “The Castle.” Its surface was about an acre in extent, and, judging from its height over the water, it could not be less than one hundred feet—perhaps one hundred and fifty—in thickness. It was walled in all round by lines ofdébris, piled upon its edges and cemented together with snow, perpendicular outside, but sloping inwards, so that the inside looked like a vast saucer. The easiest road for the sledges lay right across it. Several breaches occurred in its walls, and with the aid of picks they were soon made practicable. A sketch made as the boats passed across represents a scene familiar to many of our sledge parties, for “Castle Floe” was subsequently crossed on no less than thirteen separate occasions (Plate No. 13).

CREVASSE NEAR CAPE JOSEPH HENRY.

Sunlight amongst the ice is often very beautiful, but at the same time very inconvenient. It had already peeled our faces, now it attacked our eyes. Every crystal of snow reflected a miniature sun, and the path of the rays seemed literally sown with gems, topaz and sapphire generally, but here and there a ruby. Similar colours, but with a curious metallic lustre like oil on water, tinted the fleecy clouds overhead, and the sun itself was almost always surrounded by circles similar to those seen round the moon in winter, but exquisitely rich and brilliant in rainbow-hued colour. No painter could hope to produce the faintest resemblance to such effects. The light was in fact altogether too bright for mortals, and we could only face it with goggles on. The gem-like gleams especially produced a quick pain in the back of the eye that considerably lessened their æsthetic effect. The officers, who have to travel well in advance and climb hummocks to find a road forthe sledges, cannot wear goggles continuously; vapour from the eye freezes on the inside of the glass, and it requires the keenest sight to detect differences of level and distance in the white blank of the prospect. On our eighth day’s journey a faint mist took away all shadow from the ice, and though a man might be seen several hundred yards off, it was quite impossible to tell whether the next step was up or down, into a hole, or against a hummock. That day, pioneering was done rather by touch than sight. When the fog lifted, we found ourselves close to Cape Joseph Henry, and next forenoon the depôt left there in the autumn was transferred to the advancing sledges.

Half-a-mile northward from the depôt, a bank of snow, evidently the accumulation of ages, sloped down from a small hill to the sea. In one place a great slice of the bank had broken bodily from the mass above, leaving a deep crevasse. This was bridged over and completely concealed, except in two places, where the roof had fallen in and exposed its perpendicular walls of green ice streaked with layers of earth and sand. The bank was in fact a miniature “discharging glacier,” the only one yet met with on this coast. A few yards below the openings, the bridge was strong enough to bear the heavily-laden sledges of the western parties. Their course lay through the valley to the left, for though the snow on shore was in many places soft and deep, a short cut across the isthmus promised better travelling than the crush of floes round the cape. The prospects of the northern party were less encouraging. Looking northward from the hill over the crevasse, an icy chaos spread to the horizon. Mirage every now and then raised lines and flakes of distant pack into view, but all as rough and rugged as the ice-floes at our feet.

The detachments separated on 11th April. We of the supporting sledges bade both good-bye with three cheers, and watched them slowly wind out of sight amongst the hummocks, the one to the westward, the other poleward; and as we retraced our steps on the return journey, their “One, two, three, haul!” came faintly to us across the ice.

MIRAGE, 7TH APRIL, 1875.++

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