The Siege and Conquest of the North Pole

“The saucepan has become leaky, a small sea has formed on the sack, the spirit-lamp runs, and repeatedly threatens to destroy the tent by fire, which, during the storm, would be the work of a moment. The cook grumbles, burns his fingers to-day which were frozen yesterday; – urged on by hunger, his cooking is subject to sharp criticism, as each is waiting for the eventful moment when the meal shall be ready.

“All food was frozen – even brandy began to freeze one night – meat in the tins or ham had to be chopped with the axe; butter could, without any fear, be carried in the waistcoat-pocket, to be enjoyed on the march.

“Woe to the unfortunate man who, in a lull of the storm, goes into the open air. He is almost torn to pieces, stifled by the snow-filled air, betrayed into snow-drifts, and yet not daring to open his eyes. Numbed with cold, white as a miller, he returns to the tent. Here he is a subject of horror to his neighbours in the sack, whom he intends robbing of their warmth to thaw himself. The snow-powder blown in upon the opening of the tent door has penetrated through all the clothes, and the skin has to be scraped and any frost-bites that may have set in have to be dispersed by rubbing. Indeed, the disturbance and excitement consequent upon a walk in the open air does not subside for some hours.

“But the snow-blind suffer the most from such a state of things. Out of consideration to them, smoking was dropped.

“The irritation caused by the white snowflakes, which with us are easily beaten aside, cause great suffering in Greenland, from the inflamed state of the eyes and the thick heavy atmosphere, to those who may have been unfortunate enough to break their snow-spectacles.

“Beating them off while on the march is impossible, for the damp cloth freezes at once to a lump of ice, making the eyes insupportably cold. The simple bandage, on the other hand, does not save one from the steady burning pain, which acts like needle-pricks. Opening the eye for a moment is not to be thought of. The blind are obliged to pull with the others, as the laden sledge cannot be moved but by our united strength.

“As a rule, we break up about 5 a.m. The thin black coffee is taken with some ice-cold bread-dust, which effectually destroys all its warming properties, mixed into it like a mash, and then follows laborious packing up of the clothes, in order to be prepared for all weathers. The frozen boots must first be thawed with the hands, and the folds taken out, the tent freed from snow, and beaten until pliable. The sleeping-sack receives the same treatment, which, as a sign of our disgust and its daily increasing weight from the ice, we named ‘the Walrus.’

“The soaked seal-skin clothing freezes at once in the air, and damp condenses on the hair in frost-blossoms. One or the other rubs his face with scraped snow to refresh his eyes – a novel kind of washing, in default of water, though with the slightest breath of wind his hands are in danger of freezing. After every snowstorm, tent and sledge have to be dug out, and the contents cleaned with difficulty.

“All this business occupies about two hours, when the traces are taken up with great satisfaction, as a long-looked-for release from the pain of the nightly couch. The sledge is loosened from its frozen position, and the journey continued, which, after twenty-three days, brought us to 77° of latitude, the most northerly point ever reached on the east coast of Greenland.”

The coast along which this sledge-journey was made was found to be much broken up, and the opinion was formed that the land might possibly resolve itself into a group of islands.

The ice having broken up, the Germania left its winter harbour on 22nd July, and steamed northwards. In 75° 29′ it was stopped by ice, and had to return to the south. Kaiser Franz-Joseph’s Fjord was afterwards explored; and on the 17th of August the return home to Germany was begun. By the 25th of August they were clear of the ice.

“On the 10th of September we were a few miles from Heligoland. A heavy storm blew from the south-west, but in the evening shifted to the north-west, enabling us to run in to shore. At daybreak, though we had seen no pilot, we recognised Langerooge, and steered along the Southwall to the mouth of the Weser. No sign of a ship! The Weser seemed to have died out. Where are the pilots hidden? Are they lying perdu on account of yesterday’s storm? Well, then, we must run into the Weser without them; the wind is favourable, the weather clear, the outer buoy will be easy to find; there is the church-tower of Wangerooge. Suspecting nothing, we steered on; the tower bears S.S.W., south-west by south, south-west, but no buoy in sight. The captain and steersman look at each other in astonishment. Can we have been so mistaken and out of our reckoning? But no! That is certainly Wangerooge; the depth of water agrees, our compass is correct. No doubt about it, we are in the Weser; something unusual must have happened! Still no sail in sight! But what is that? Yonder are the roads. There are several large vessels under steam; they at least can give us some information. So we make for them. We saluted the German flag, and soon the cry was heard, ‘War, war with France; Napoleon is prisoner! France has declared a Republic; our armies are before Paris!’ And then, ‘Hansa destroyed in the ice, crew saved.’ ”

CHAPTER V

VOYAGE OF THE POLARIS (1871−73)

Captain Charles Francis Hall, after having dwelt with the Esquimaux about eight years, during which he lived like one of them and acquired their language, returned to America in 1869.

He had a great ambition to reach the spot “where there is no North, no East, no West.” Early in 1870 he began his agitation for an expedition to the North Pole. He lectured in various parts of the United States, and received encouragement from the Hon. George M. Robeson, Secretary of the United States Navy. Ultimately a wooden river gun-boat of 387 tons, called the Periwinkle, was given to Hall, and was afterwards rechristened Polaris. Congress also granted 50,000 dollars.

Hall, who was not himself a seaman, engaged Captain S. O. Budington as sailing-master. Captain Budington had made thirteen whaling voyages to Baffin’s Bay, and was therefore an experienced ice-navigator. Dr. Bessels was naturalist, and Mr. Meyer meteorologist. Morton, of Kane’s expedition, also accompanied Hall. Mr. Grinnell, the munificent promoter of expeditions for the search of Franklin, presented Hall with the flag which, in 1838, had been with Wilkes to the Antarctic regions, and which had since been in the northern Polar seas with De Haven, Kane, and Hayes.

Hall’s first intention was to proceed up Jones Sound, but his opinion regarding this route changed before he left the States. He trusted chiefly to dogs for his sledge-travelling, and did not expect to reach a higher latitude than 80° during the first year.

The Polaris left New London on 3rd July 1871, and St. John’s on 19th July. The coast of Greenland was first seen on 27th July, and Upernavik was reached on 19th August. Here Hans, of Kane’s and Hayes’ expedition, was engaged as dog-driver and servant, and received a salary of 300 dollars per annum. His wife and three children, who were dressed in ragged and filthy skin clothing, accompanied him. Their luggage consisted of tents, tools, cooking utensils, implements of the chase, and three or four puppies whose eyes could scarcely bear the light.

The Polaris was first stopped by the ice off the western shore of Hakluyt Island, about 5 a.m. on the 27th August, but by forcing ahead, open water was reached the same day. At 3 p.m. on that day the Polaris was opposite Cape Alexander; at 5 p.m. it was off Littleton Island; Cairn Point was passed at 6.30; and at 8 p.m. the parallel of Rensselaer Harbour was reached.

Smith Sound was found quite open. At midnight a heavy pack was seen, but in about two hours its south-western point was rounded. At 3.30 a.m. on the 28th, Cape Hawks was on the port beam, about 15 miles distant.

The width of the southern entrance of Kennedy Channel was estimated to be about 35 miles, and it was found to narrow towards the north to about 25 miles.

The highest latitude, estimated by Hall to be 82° 26′, but afterwards corrected to 82° 11′, was reached at 6 a.m. on the 30th August. Hall had therefore passed from Cape Alexander, at the entrance of Smith Sound, to his highest point in Robeson Channel, in about two and a half days. He had carried his ship much farther north than any ship had ever reached before.

The barrier of ice had now been reached, and it became necessary to search for a harbour. Steaming southwards, a little bay was seen, but after two attempts to enter it, Hall had to acknowledge defeat. He named it “Repulse Harbour.”

Budington wished the Polaris to take winter quarters in Newman Bay, but Hall decided to try and reach the west coast. After boring for a distance of 12 miles, the Polaris was beset, and was not released until the 4th September, when a course was made for the eastern shore. On the 5th September the anchor was dropped about 300 yards from shore, in latitude 81° 37′, and about 4 miles south of Cape Lupton.

Hall named Robeson Channel after the Secretary to the Navy, and the Harbour was named “Thank-God Harbour.”

A large quantity of provisions and stores was now landed, and preparations were at once made to explore the surrounding neighbourhood.

Traces of Esquimaux were soon found; and on the 6th September, Hall and some of his companions ascended Cape Lupton, from which Robeson Channel could be seen as far as Cape Union. The bay extending from Cape Lupton to Cape Budington was named “Polaris Bay.”

A hunting-party was sent out on 18th September. It returned on the 23rd, and reported having killed a musk-ox. This was very interesting news, as it was the first musk-ox ever seen on the west coast of Greenland.

On 10th October, Captain Hall, Mr. Chester, and the Esquimaux Joe and Hans started on a sledge-journey towards the north. On the 15th, Hall camped in sight of a bay which he named “Newman Bay.” On the 18th, Hall and Mr. Chester ascended to the top of Cape Brevoort, situated on the north side of this bay. The return journey was made from this point.

During this journey the party slept in snow-houses. They returned to the ship on 24th October. All were well with the exception of Captain Hall. He complained of not having his usual amount of energy. Soon after his return he became sick and vomited a good deal. Dr. Bessels announced that same evening that Hall’s left side was paralysed and that he had had an apoplectic attack. On the 29th he had marked symptoms of insanity, and believed that an attempt was being made to poison him. However, by the 6th November he had largely recovered, but at night he again became alarmingly ill. On the 7th he became comatose, and died on the morning of the 8th November. On the 10th November he was buried on the shore of Polaris Bay, and a wooden monument was erected over his grave.

It was a sad and unexpected ending to a life full of high hope.

On the death of Captain Hall, the command devolved upon Captain Budington.

On the 18th November a severe gale began. It increased in violence on the 19th, until the wind reached 52 miles per hour. It continued on the 20th and 21st, and on the latter date the Polaris was found to be afloat. With great difficulty the ship was secured to a large grounded iceberg which was named “Providence Berg.” The Polaris was thus saved from being carried into the pack.

Nothing of special interest occurred during the remainder of the winter. In March 1872, Joe the Eskimo, in one of his hunting expeditions, discovered Petermann’s Fiord.

On 27th March a sledge-party in charge of Dr. Bessels set out with the object of reaching Cape Constitution, Morton’s farthest, and ascertaining its correct position. The party reached within 30 miles of the cape, but had then to return.

The whole expedition were anxious to explore the region to the north, but the strange conclusion was arrived at that it was necessary to proceed in boats. The idea of the “open sea” had evidently some influence with them. When a small channel formed it gave rise to high hopes that a start with the boats would be made, but these hopes were soon dashed when the channel closed again. Instead of setting out with sledge-parties along the coast, the spring and part of the summer were allowed to slip away while they waited for open water. Yet they were in a more favourable position for making an advance towards the north of Greenland than any party before or since.

On the 8th June a start was made from Cape Lupton with a boat, which had previously been taken there, but it was crushed in the ice next day.

Another start was made on the 10th with two boats, and the party succeeded in reaching Newman Bay without much difficulty, but found it impossible to proceed farther north with the boats.

During the month of June the Polaris leaked badly, and the pumps had to be kept frequently at work. On the 26th of this month the ship was liberated from the ice by means of saws, and Budington at once determined to start for the north. On approaching Cape Sumner, however, the pack was found to be impenetrable. After crossing to Cape Lieber without finding an opening, the Polaris returned to “Thank-God Harbour.” On the 28th June, Budington received the news that the boat-party was at Newman Bay, and he attempted to take the Polaris north so as to pick up the boats, but the pack was again met at Cape Sumner. He then sent instructions for the boat-party to return. The boats were abandoned at Newman Bay, and the last of the party returned to the Polaris on 22nd July.

At the beginning of August, Budington determined to start towards the south as soon as an opportunity presented itself. This occurred on the 12th August at 4.30 p.m. Next day a close pack was met, and the Polaris was fastened to a large floe and allowed to drift slowly down the channel. Cape Constitution was passed on the 14th. During the rest of the month, and throughout the whole of September, the drift southward was very slow. On the 12th October the Polaris was within 2 miles of Cairn Point, and on the 14th Northumberland Island was visible. During September and October a house was built on the floe.

On the 15th October a severe gale sprang up, and preparations had to be made in case it was found necessary to abandon the ship. During her drift southwards the Polaris had been nipped several times, and was leaking badly. During this gale she was again nipped so severely that Budington ordered provisions and stores to be thrown upon the ice. The Esquimaux women and children took refuge on the floe. While some of the crew were carrying articles to a safe place on the floe, the Polaris was suddenly drifted away from the ice. So quickly did this catastrophe take place that the floe-party soon disappeared from view.

Budington now called all hands to muster, and found that fourteen men remained on board. The Polaris drifted rapidly until toward midnight, when she ran into some young ice, and her progress was stayed. Next morning the ship’s position was found to be half-way between Littleton Island and Cairn Point. No trace of the missing party could be seen. Later in the day the Polaris reached the coast, and was secured with heavy hawsers to large grounded hummocks.

On the 19th October two Esquimaux appeared at the ship, and on this date it was decided to build a house on shore. More Esquimaux arrived on the 21st, and they gave great assistance in sledging articles to the shore. The house was soon erected, and was used by the party throughout the winter. Large numbers of Esquimaux made frequent visits, and were very friendly with the party during the whole time of their stay.

Towards the end of February 1873 it was decided to begin the construction of two boats in which the party intended to make a retreat to the Danish settlements.

On the 30th May almost all the land-ice broke away, and with it the Polaris went adrift. She was carried about 200 yards towards the south, when she again grounded. At high tide her upper deck was 2 feet under water.

On the 3rd June 1873 the party set out for the south in their two boats. On the 23rd of this month, in Melville Bay, not far from Cape York, they were gladdened by the sight of a whaler. It turned out to be the Ravenscraig of Kirkcaldy, Scotland, owned by Ninian Lockhart, and commanded by Captain William Allen. The Polaris party were enthusiastically received, and were treated with the greatest kindness. They were ultimately taken to Dundee.

We must now return to the party on the floe. It consisted of ten Americans and nine Esquimaux. The Americans were Tyson, Meyer, Herron, Jackson, Kruger, Jamka, Nindemann, Aunting, Lindqvist, and Johnson. They had two boats, two kayaks, a canvas boat, and some navigation instruments, besides a moderate quantity of provisions.

Next day, after their separation from the Polaris, the floe on which they were was found to be near Littleton Island. The party took to their boats, intending to make for the land and to look for the Polaris, but a breeze sprang up and obliged them to haul the boats on the ice. Soon after this, the Polaris was seen rounding a point 8 or 10 miles away. Signals were made, but were not noticed by those on the vessel. After this, the floe drifted away from land towards the west coast, then across to the neighbourhood of Northumberland Island, and finally southwards to the east of the Carey Islands.

The Esquimaux during this time were successful in capturing a number of seals. The provisions were served out by weight, 11 oz. being a day’s allowance.

During October three snow-houses were built. By November the temperature became very low, and the effects of exposure and want of food began to tell on the party. Some of the men trembled when they tried to walk, and the Esquimaux children often cried with hunger, although all was given them that could possibly be spared. The services of Joe and Hans were invaluable: without them, the chances of life would have been very much diminished. So keen had the appetites of the party become that the seal-meat was eaten uncooked, with the skin and hair on.

On the 7th December the latitude of 74° 4′ was reached. During this month the allowance of food was 16 oz. Christmas was celebrated by an extra meal. At breakfast, an additional ounce of bread made the soup a little thicker than usual. New Year’s Day did not pass so well. One of the party described the dinner as “mouldy bread and short allowance.” Captain Tyson stated that he had dined “on about 2 feet of frozen entrails and a little blubber.”

On the 6th January 1873 the latitude was approximately 72° 7′. On the 15th of this month the temperature went down to 40° below zero. On the 19th, the sun reappeared after an absence of eighty-three days.

On the 21st February the rations were reduced to 7 oz., so that they might last till April. At the beginning of March the temperature was over 30° below zero, and food was scarce. On the 2nd of the month Joe was fortunate in shooting a large seal, an “ookgook,” and it can be imagined with what delight the starving party received it. They feasted on it till most of them became ill. Soon after this seal was captured a storm came on, and it was feared that the floe would break up: the noise of the ice was like that of artillery. All the party remained dressed and ready in case of sudden disaster. After the gale began to moderate, it was found that the ice all around had been broken up, and that the piece on which they were was now only about 175 yards in size.

On the 12th March the latitude was found to be 64° 32′. On the 27th of this month a bear was shot. This was very much appreciated: the flesh was compared to pork. On the last day of March the latitude was about the same as Cape Farewell – the most southern point of Greenland.

On the 1st April it was found necessary to abandon the floe and take to the boat. When all the party entered, the boat was found to be overloaded, and 100 lb. of meat and nearly all the clothing had to be thrown overboard. During the next few days the party were kept continually launching and then hauling up the boat on the ice. On the 7th April the ice split across the tent; the party managed to save themselves, but lost their breakfast. Next day the ice split between the tent and the boat, and it was only with great difficulty that the latter was secured.

During the next eight days they were imprisoned on the ice, and the amount of food ran very low. On the 18th April a seal was shot by Joe and was eaten raw. Next day a sea struck the floe on which they were camped and washed away the tent, skins, and most of the bed-clothing. It was with the utmost difficulty that the men prevented the boat from being lost. They held on to the boat from 9 p.m. till 7 next morning. During this time many of them were frequently struck by blocks of ice and severely bruised. On the 22nd April they were saved from starvation by the capture of a bear.

At 4.30 p.m. on the 28th April a steamer hove in sight, but failed to see them. Next day another steamer was seen, but after the party believed they were observed, it changed its course and disappeared. On the 30th April, on some fog clearing away, they were overjoyed to see a steamer close at hand. Shots and shouting soon attracted attention, and in a few minutes it was alongside. The vessel was the sealer Tigress, Captain Bartlett of Newfoundland. The party were picked up in latitude 53° 35′, off Grady Harbour, Labrador.

The return to civilised life and its food and comforts was attended with swollen legs and feet, diarrhœa, and severe headache. The Tigress landed the party at St. John’s on 12th May.

The voyage of the Polaris extended considerably our knowledge of the Smith Sound route towards the Pole. It also did much to explode the theory of an open Polar Sea. The Polaris was carried to a more northern point than a vessel had ever before reached, and it prepared the way for the British Expedition of 1875.

One might naturally suppose that the Arctic regions would offer no further attractions to those who suffered the terrible experience on the drifting ice, but it will be afterwards seen that at least one of the party played a noble rôle in another American Expedition which met with disaster.

CHAPTER VI

THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN EXPEDITION (1872−74)

The failure of the second German Arctic Expedition to reach a high latitude on the east coast of Greenland directed attention to the seas of Novaya Zemlya. In order, however, that large sums of money might not be spent on a plan which might be unfeasible, it was decided to dispatch a pioneer expedition under the joint command of Lieutenant Weyprecht and Julius Payer. The latter had greatly distinguished himself in the German Expedition.

In order to diminish expenses, a small sailing ship, the Isbjorn, of 55 tons, was chartered at Tromsoe. She was new and strong, and this was her first voyage. Her bows were protected with sheet iron, 2 feet above, and 2 feet under water. The crew consisted of eight Norwegians.

Tromsoe was left on the 20th June 1871. They were detained two days at Sandoe by contrary winds, and on the 28th the first ice was met in 73° 40′ south-east of Bear Island. Here they passed through 40 miles of loose drift-ice, and then met the pack in 74° 30′. Calms set in, and the Isbjorn was beset for ten days. On the 10th July it escaped and sailed eastward. They reached longitude 40° E., and then were forced to return westward. Hope Island was reached, and the course was then directed north, but ice was met with in 76° 30′. Three attempts were made to reach Stor-Fiord from the western side of Cape Lookout, but each time the Isbjorn was driven back by the current.

Towards the middle of August the ice to the east of Hope Island had cleared away, and on the 22nd August 76° 45′ was reached, but contrary winds prevented a higher latitude being attained. The course was again set eastwards along the margin of the ice, and on the 31st of August the latitude was 78° 30′.