CHAPTER XXXIII.
ON BOARD THE SCHOONER.—REVIEW OF THE JOURNEY.—THE RETURN DOWN KENNEDY CHANNEL.—A SEVERE MARCH IN A SNOW-STORM.—ROTTEN ICE.—EFFECTS OF A GALE.—RETURNING THROUGH THE HUMMOCKS.—THE DOGS BREAKING DOWN.—ADRIFT ON A FLOE AT CAIRN POINT.—THE OPEN WATER COMPELS US TO TAKE TO THE LAND.—REACHING THE SCHOONER.—PROJECTING A CHART.—THE NEW SOUND.—MY NORTHERN DISCOVERIES.
ON BOARD THE SCHOONER.—REVIEW OF THE JOURNEY.—THE RETURN DOWN KENNEDY CHANNEL.—A SEVERE MARCH IN A SNOW-STORM.—ROTTEN ICE.—EFFECTS OF A GALE.—RETURNING THROUGH THE HUMMOCKS.—THE DOGS BREAKING DOWN.—ADRIFT ON A FLOE AT CAIRN POINT.—THE OPEN WATER COMPELS US TO TAKE TO THE LAND.—REACHING THE SCHOONER.—PROJECTING A CHART.—THE NEW SOUND.—MY NORTHERN DISCOVERIES.
Port Foulke, June 3d.
Back again on board the schooner after two months' toiling and journeying on the ice.
Since I left her deck on the 3d of April, I have traveled not less than 1300 miles, and not less than 1600 since first setting out in March. I am somewhat battered and weather-beaten, but a day or so of rest and civilized comfort, the luxury of a wash and a bed, and of a table covered with clean crockery filled with the best of things that my old Swedish cook can turn out, are wondrously rejuvenating,—potent as the touch of Hebe to the war-worn Iolas.
REVIEW OF THE JOURNEY.
Affairs seem to have gone on well at the schooner. Radcliffe has given me his report, and it is satisfactory. McCormick has presented a full history of events since leaving me among the hummocks; but I refrain now from recording them until I have set down some of the leading incidents of my journey, while they are yet fresh in my mind. Besides, McCormick tells me that he is unable to repair the schooner that she may be ice-worthy; and, as I am unwilling to accept this conclusion without a furtherexamination than I have yet been able to make, I postpone any further allusion to the matter. To confess the truth, the last days of the homeward journey used us all up pretty thoroughly; and, although the confined atmosphere of the cabin is oppressive to me after so long an exposure in the open air, yet the doctor (which is mydoppelganger) warns me to keep to this lounge for a day or so. I am not, however, forbidden to write.
I have returned well satisfied that Kennedy Channel is navigable; and it remains only to be proven whether Smith Sound will open sufficiently to permit a passage through. With steam, I should have no doubt whatever of my ability to force it; with sails, of course, the effort is filled with greater uncertainty; and yet, I think, the chances are with me.
I am fully convinced that a route to the Pole,—a route, certainly, not wholly unobstructed by ice, yet free enough at least for steam navigation, is open every summer from Cape Frazer; and if I can pull through to that point, then I shall have accomplished the full measure of my desires. In truth, this is the real difficulty. My views of the whole matter will be set down here on the spot as opportunity offers from day to day. To-morrow, I hope to be sufficiently recovered from the fatigues of the journey to begin the discussion of my materials, and the projection of my chart.
And now, with a heart filled with thankfulness to that Great Being who suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground without His notice, I have here the happiness to record that in these two months of perilous traveling, He has spared me and every member of my party from serious accident or permanent injury.
June 4th.
THE RETURN.
I have worked up some of my sights, and rudely sketched in the coast-line of my track-chart. It makes a respectable show for our summer's sledging. Since the middle of March, I have covered the entire ground gone over by Dr. Kane's various parties, except the coast of Washington Land, and have extended the former surveys considerably to the north and west. But the important additions which I have been enabled to make to the geographical knowledge of the region I regard as of secondary interest to the circumstance that my journey has shown the practicability of this route into the Polar Basin.
My return southward from the shores of the Polar Sea is not recorded in my field-diary. There is no record after we had turned our faces homeward. That water-soaked and generally dilapidated-looking book, which now lies open on the table before me, breaks off thus:—
"Halted in the lee of a huge ice-cliff, seeking shelter from a fierce storm that set upon us soon after we started south. We have made about ten miles, and have from forty to fifty yet to make before we reach Jensen. We have given the dogs the last of our food. It is snowing and blowing dreadfully."
LONG AND WEARY MARCH.
The storm continued with unabated violence through the next day; and as the wind shrieked along the tall cliffs, carrying with it the drifting snow, I thought that I had scarcely ever seen or heard any thing more dismal. Unable to bear the chilliness of our imperfect shelter, (we had no means of making a snow-hut,) we pushed on, wading through deep drifts in addition to climbing the rocks and masses of ice, which, in going north, hadeverywhere more or less embarrassed our progress. The snow-drifts were often so deep that the dogs had much trouble in wading through them, and it was all that they could do to drag the now quite empty sledge. After a time they became so much exhausted that it was with the utmost difficulty that we could force them forward. The poor beasts fell in their tracks the moment the whip ceased to be applied. I had never before seen them so much broken. To halt was of little use, as rest, without food, would do harm rather than good; and as we had no shelter, and in the item of food were as badly off as the dogs, there was nothing for us to do but to hold on and get through to Jensen's camp, or perish in the storm. Fortunately, the wind was at our backs.
We kept on in our winding course through the pelting snow, and reached, finally, the north side of the bay above Jensen's camp; and then the hardest part of the journey was to come. The tramp across that bay comes back to me now as the vague recollection of some ugly dream. I scarcely remember how we got through it. I recall only an endless pounding of the dogs, who wanted to lie down with every step, the ceaseless wading, the endless crunch of the wearied feet breaking through the old snow-crust, the laborious climbing over hummocks, the pushing and lifting of the sledge,—and, through the blinding snow, I remember, at length, catching sight of the land and of hearing the cry of Jensen's dogs; and then of crawling up the ice-foot to his snow-hut. Through all these last hours, we were aware of a desire to halt and sleep; and it is fortunate for us that we did not lose consciousness of its dangers.
Without waiting to be fed, the dogs tumbled overon the snow the moment they were left to themselves; and we, dragging ourselves inside the hut which McDonald had made to shelter his sick companion, fell into a dead, dead sleep. Jensen noted the time. We had been twenty-two hours on the way, since leaving our shelter beneath the ice-cliff.
A LAST LOOK.
When we awoke, the storm had died away, and the sun was shining brightly. McDonald had looked after the dogs, and had ready for us a hot pot of coffee and an abundant breakfast, which thirty-four hours' fasting had prepared us fully to appreciate. Refreshed by this, I climbed the hill-side for a last look at the sea which we were leaving. The gale had told somewhat upon it. The dark water-sky to the northeast had followed us down the coast, the wind had acted upon the open places in the ice, and the little waves had eaten away their margins, and magnified them greatly, while many of the old floes had finally yielded to the immense pressure of the wind, and had moved in their winter moorings, tearing up the rotten ice about them. Several cracks had opened almost to the shore, and the "hinge" of the ice-foot had mainly tumbled away.
Jensen was better, but still moved with much difficulty and pain. By sitting on the sledge, however, he thought that he should be able to drive his dogs; so I gave Knorr our entire cargo. This cargo was now reduced to small dimensions, and consisted of nothing but our buffalo-skins, rifle, my instruments, and a few geological specimens. Our food was consumed to the last pound, and hence we must go supperless if we did not reach our next cache, where, if the bears should not have discovered it, we had one meal buried under a heap of stones.
June 5th.
I resume the narrative.
The march to the cache was a very tedious one, but we took it leisurely, and got through with it in sixteen hours, to find our food unmolested. The repeated halts to rest the dogs gave me abundant leisure to search among the limestone cliffs for further fossil remains, and my exertions were rewarded with a valuable collection. It is, perhaps, too much to say that they are fossils of the Silurian era, from a hasty examination; but I think it more than probable.
THE SHORE-ICE.
I had also opportunity to measure some of the masses of ice which had been forced upon the shore. In many places these masses were crowded together, forming an almost impassable barrier. In other places the ice-foot had been torn through, and in one spot a table sixty feet in thickness and forty yards across had been crowded on the sloping shore, pushing up the loose, rockydébriswhich lay at the base of the cliffs; and when the pack that had caused the disturbance had drifted away, this fragment was left with its lower edge above the tide. Around it were piled other masses; and, in order to pass it, we were obliged to climb far up the hill-side.
Our next day's journey was even more difficult, as we became entangled among deep snow-drifts below Cape Frazer, and, on account of the rotten condition of the ice lining the shore, we could not take to the ice-fields. We tried twice, and came near paying dearly for the experiment. One of the teams got in bodily, and was extricated with difficulty; while, on the other occasion, I, acting in my usual capacity of pilot, saved myself from a cold bath with my ice-pole, which, plunging through the rotten ice and disappearingout of sight, gave me timely warning; so we put back again to the more secure land-ice.
In the bay below Cape Napoleon we found, on the following day, secure footing, and reached Cape Hawks without difficulty, in two more marches. Thence we proceeded to follow our outward track through the hummocks. The sledges being now light, and Jensen having so far improved as to be able to walk, we experienced less embarrassment than on our outward journey; but the dogs were now in a very different condition, and lightness of load leveled not the hummocks and made not the steep places smooth, nor the ice less sharp, nor the snow-crusts less treacherous. The task was wearisome and exhausting to the last degree,—a hard struggle, destructive to the energies of men and dogs alike.
Some snow had fallen, but, fortunately, the wind had drifted it from our tracks in many places, and we found our way to the small provision caches which we had left going north, and, luckily, they had all escaped the observation of the bears except one; but, having made a good march on the first day from Cape Hawks, we picked up the first cache we came to, and thus saved a day's food,—a piece of good fortune which we had not counted upon.
SIGHTING GREENLAND.
The coast of Greenland rose at length into view, and, steadily rising day by day, we came within sight of Cairn Point; but, for some time previous, we were warned of the rapid advance of the season by the dark water-sky which lay before us, showing that the open water extended up to the Point, for which we were shaping our course. On the north side of it, however, the ice appeared to be solid. Thinking that we could make the land in that direction, we pushedon, picking our way over the rough and thicker ice, and avoiding the younger ice, which was everywhere porous, and occasionally worn completely away. At length, when about a mile from land, we came upon a crack, which had opened not more than a foot. Crossing this, we held in directly for the Point, but, unfortunately, the wind was blowing heavily down the Sound; and, as we neared the land, we found that the water had eaten in between the ice and the shore, obliging us to keep up the coast. To our horror and dismay, we now discovered that the crack which we had crossed had opened at least twenty yards, and we were adrift upon an ice-raft in an open sea, without power to help ourselves.
ADRIFT ON AN ICE-RAFT.
The movement of the ice was slow. After waiting a short time, irresolute as to what course we should pursue, it was observed that the outer end of the loosened floe was moving, while the inner edge was almost stationary, owing to a small iceberg, which, being aground and fastened to the floe itself, formed a pivot about which we were revolving. If this berg held, it was evident that the floe would strike the land, and we approached nearer to its margin.
The event which we had so eagerly desired now happened; and, dashing forward when the collision came, we managed to get upon the land-ice. The tide, being at full flood, facilitated the undertaking. The contact did not long continue. The rotten edge of the floe broke loose from the little berg which had given us this most fortunate assistance, and we were not sorry to see the ice-raft drifting away without us.
TAKING TO THE LAND.
By this time, the dogs had become more broken. They had borne up admirably during the journeynorth, but the scant rations which we had left behind for the return journey were found to be insufficient to support their strength, especially as they had, for some time, Jensen's additional weight to carry. One of them gave out completely, and died in a fit, during the first day's journey in the hummocks; two others followed soon afterward; while another, having become unable either to pull or follow, was shot. Much to my surprise, as soon as the bullet struck the animal, wounding him but slightly and causing him to set up a terrible cry, his companions in the team flew upon him and tore him to pieces in an instant, and those who were lucky enough to get a fragment of him were tearing the flesh from his bones almost before the echo of his last howl had died away in the solitude.
The sea below Cairn Point was filled with loose ice, evidently broken adrift by a very recent gale. By keeping to the land-ice we managed to work our way down the coast, and got around Cape Hatherton; but, below this, the ice-foot, too, was gone, thus obliging us to take to the land. To cross the mountains with our sledges was, of course, impracticable; so we were compelled to abandon them until such time as we could come for them in a boat.
The land journey was very tedious and tiresome, exhausted and foot-sore as we were already; but we managed better than the dogs. Most of them sneaked away as soon as loosened from the sledges, and would not follow us; and when sought for could not be found. I did not feel apprehensive for them, as I supposed they merely needed rest, and would follow our tracks to the vessel. Three of them only stuck to us. One is the noble old beast,Oosisoak; another is his brave queen, Arkadik; and the third Nenook, the finest of Kalutunah's dogs. Three others have come in since; but four are yet missing. I have sent out to seek them, without success. I much fear that they will not have strength to drag themselves on board.
A NEW SOUND.
And so my journey ended. If it has had its disappointments, it has had, too, its triumphs and successes. It was unfortunate that I did not get the boat over the Sound, together with a good supply of provisions; but, failing in this, the failure of the foot-party was of little moment. No amount of assistance could, with sledges alone, have helped me further north; or, if I had got further, could have ever got me back again.
June 8th.
I have finished the plotting of my chart, and I find, as I have already had occasion to observe, that the coast-line from Cape Sabine to Cape Frazer differs somewhat from that shown from my journey in 1854, which was made under the embarrassments of partial snow-blindness and a vapory atmosphere. The most important feature in connection with this old survey is the fact that the Sound opening westward from Smith Sound, above Cape Sabine, formerly escaped my observation. The existence of this Sound was abundantly confirmed during my return journey; and my materials, now reduced and put on paper, give me the correct conformation of the coast. The Sound is somewhat wider than Smith Sound, narrowing, however, steadily, from a broad entrance, something like Whale Sound. Whether it continues to the westward, parallel with Jones and Lancaster Sounds, separating the Ellesmere Land, of Inglefield,from the Grinnell Land of my former exploration, of course, remains to be proven; but, that such is the fact, I have no doubt.
NOMENCLATURE.
I give to this Sound the name of my vessel. The first conspicuous Cape which appears on its south side I name Cape Seward, and the most remote point of visible land lying beyond it, Cape Viele. The three last conspicuous Capes on the north side I name as follows: the most westerly, Cape Baker; that next to it, Cape Sawyer; and the third, Cape Stetson. The apparently deep indentations of the coast which lie between these bold headlands are designated as Joy Bay and Peabody Bay. The two large islands lying in the mouth of the Sound I have distinguished as Bache Island and Henry Island. Eastward of Cape Stetson I have applied such names as seemed to me appropriate to distinguish the prominent landmarks; but it is unnecessary to mention them here, as the map tells its own story. In those parts of the coast which were plotted by Dr. Kane from my old survey, I have endeavored to adhere, as far as practicable, to his nomenclature; and such parts of the shores of Kennedy Channel as were seen by Morton alone, I have, for the most part, simply applied Dr. Kane's names, without inquiring very particularly as to their corresponding places on the two maps. I think this course, in the main, preferable to that somewhat confusing system which deprived Captain Inglefield of the benefits of his survey of Smith Sound; and I have, besides, the additional satisfaction of joining Dr. Kane in paying respect to many distinguished men of science, dead and living, and among them to none that contribute more gratification than that of M. de la Roquette, Vice-President of the Geographical Societyof Paris; and to Sir Roderick Murchison, President of the Royal Geographical Society, London, and Dr. Norton Shaw, its Secretary. The coast-range, which forms such a conspicuous feature of Grinnell Land, I have followed Dr. Kane in designating as Victoria and Albert Mountains.
The highest point attained by me I have called Cape Lieber; a remarkable peak rising above it, Church's Monument; and the Bay, which lies below it, is named in respectful remembrance of Lady Franklin. The conspicuous headland which I vainly attempted to reach, on the last day of my northward journey, I have named Cape Eugénie, thinking, in this manner, to express my high appreciation of the many acts of kindness to this expedition and to myself which I owe to French citizens, by remembering their Empress. Another prominent headland appearing beyond it I designate as Cape Frederick VII., in honor of the King of Denmark, to whose subjects in Greenland I am indebted for so many serviceable attentions. And to the noble headland which, in faint outline, stood against the dark sky of the open sea—the most northern known land upon the globe—I name Cape Union, in remembrance of a compact which has given prosperity to a people and founded a nation. In naming the bay which lies between Cape Union and Cape Frederick VII., I am desirous of expressing my admiration of Admiral Wrangel, whose fame in connection with Arctic discovery is equaled by that of Sir Edward Parry only. And the lofty peak which overlooks the Polar Sea from behind Cape Eugénie, I name Parry Mountain. With this eminent explorer I will now divide the honors of extreme northern travel; for, if he has carried theBritish flag upon the sea nearer to the North Pole than any flag had been carried hitherto, I have planted the American flag further north upon the land then any flag has been planted before. The Bay between Capes Frederick VII. and Eugénie I name in honor of the distinguished geographer, Dr. Augustus Peterman; and two large bays lower down the coast I call, respectively, after Carl Ritter and William Scorsby.
WASHINGTON LAND.
In plotting my survey I have been a little puzzled with the Washington Land of Dr. Kane's map, and I am much tempted to switch it off twenty miles to the eastward; for it is not possible that Kennedy Channel can be less than fifty miles wide; and, since I believe that Smith Sound expands into the Polar Basin, I must look upon Washington Land merely as an island in its centre,—Kennedy Channel lying between it and Grinnell Land on the west, and Humboldt Glacier filling up what was once a channel on the right.
Observatory at Port Foulke