On the 29th of February, Lieutenant Lockwood went upon an experimental trip to Thank God Harbor preparatory to his proposed grand expedition along the coast of Northern Greenland. His companions were Brainard, Jewell, Long, and the Esquimaux, Frederick and Jans, with two dog-teams. As the dogs, constantly yelping and howling, competed for the mastery, they traveled rapidly, and, after many twistings and turnings, reached their destination, where they found the observatory still standing. They took a necessary inventory, and, after a survey of the dismal plain, visited the grave of C. F. Hall, where Lieutenant Lockwood recorded the following touching notice in his journal: “The head-board erected by his comrades, as also the metallic one left by the English, still stands. How mournful to me the scene, made more so by the howling of the winds and the thick atmosphere! It was doubtless best that he died where he did. I have come to regard him as a visionary and an enthusiast, who was indebted more to fortune than to those practical abilities which Kane possessed. Yet he gave his life to the cause, and that must always go far toward redeeming 140 the short-comings of any man. The concluding lines of the inscription on the English tablet, I think good: ‘To Captain Hall, who sacrificed his life in the advancement of science, November 8, 1871. This tablet has been erected by the British Polar Expedition of 1875, which followed in his footsteps and profited by his experience.’”
The American inscription on the wooden headboard was as follows:
IN MEMORY OF
CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,
LATE COMMANDER U. S. STEAMER POLARIS,
NORTH POLE EXPEDITION.
Died November 8, 1871.
“I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”
After various struggles with the snow, fog, and cold weather, ending in frosted feet and faces, and after inspecting a boat left by Buddington, they returned by way of the snow-house at Cape Beechy, and, all very much exhausted, reached the station, receiving a hearty welcome. Greely had been very anxious about the party, owing to a storm of great violence, and had sent Dr. Pavy with men to their relief. The trip thus made covered not less than one hundred and forty miles. Lockwood now decided that on the 1st of April he would start upon his proposed expedition. This trip occupied his mind continually. He hoped he might be successful, yet there were many 141 chances of failure. Who could divine the future? He felt that he ought to be able to reach Cape Britannia, but that was not enough; he desired to do more.
As the time for taking his departure approached, Lockwood was greatly troubled with rheumatism, but still was very busy in maturing his plans. Lieutenant Greely wrote him a flattering letter, putting the whole plan of operations in his hands and placing at his disposal the entire personnel and material of the expedition. This would include almost all who could take the field. The men were becoming enthusiastic and were showing an admirable spirit, although they knew from experience that they were to engage in no child’s play. Almost all of those selected had shown pluck hitherto. Without this element no one could endure the hardships that they might have to undergo. Should any of those selected break down early, there were excellent substitutes among those left behind. Lockwood was pleased with an exhibition of pluck by Ellis, who walked all the way from Depot “A” with a frozen foot, refusing the offer of Jewell to bring him on the dog-sledge. Jewell, on returning from Lincoln Bay, had orders to convey stores to the “Gap,” where the boat previously sent over the strait lay. Hence, before starting, supplies would be placed at Depot “B,” at the “Gap,” and at a point intermediate on the frozen strait.
Having all things complete, Sergeant Brainard was to proceed at once with the supporting parties to Cape Sumner. He was to leave Depot “B” with a weight 142 to drag of one hundred and thirty pounds per man. Lockwood was to follow with dog-sledge loaded with five hundred pounds of pemmican. Thus they would concentrate at Cape Sumner with the six hundred rations in hand, together with seven hundred pounds of dog pemmican. The stores embraced pemmican, bacon, corned beef, roast musk-ox, raw musk-ox, English beef, hard bread, canned beans, potatoes, sugar, tea, chocolate, and coffee, besides which they carried alcohol for cooking and lime-juice as an anti-scorbutic. Their sledge ration had been made up by consultation with Lieutenant Greely, though, of course, it might be departed from if circumstances required. The diet list was purposely a varied one. No rum or spirits were taken except as a medicine. The main supporting party consisted of Sergeant Lynn, Corporal Ellison, and privates Biederbick, Whistler, and Henry.
Lieutenant Lockwood, Sergeant Jewell, and the Esquimaux Frederick formed the advance party, while Sergeants Brainard and Ralston, Corporal Saler, and privates Connell, Fredericks, and one other man constituted the second supporting party.
On the 2d of April, the main and second supporting parties moved off in good style, amid the waving of flags, firing of pistols, cheers, and other demonstrations. Both Lieutenants Greely and Lockwood took occasion to address the men a few words of encouragement and advice. Lockwood confined his remarks to the necessity of co-operation and subordination as the chief essentials to success. He would follow with Jewell and the dog-sledge, and, if he knew himself, would not return unsuccessful. He got off at 8 P. M., with Jewell, Frederick, and the dog-sledge Antoinette. The team of eight consisted of “Ritenbank, the king,” a large white dog, at whose growl all the rest trembled; “Major,” a friend of Ritenbank, and a very useful, good-natured old fellow, hard-working and quiet, without any special characteristics; “Howler,” a large, lean, mean, ill-natured brute, whom they took on board at Disco, and who lorded it over the rest till Ritenbank came on board at the place of the same name, when Howler was dethroned; since which he had been morose and misanthropic, and never associated with the other dogs. He set up the most unearthly howling whenever any other dog approached him, especially if that other dog had designs on something he was engaged in eating or trying to eat—a tin can, for instance. At the end of a march, when the pemmican was being cut up, and he, with the rest, was awaiting his opportunity to make a general rush, his howling became almost unendurable. But he was especially despicable, because he allowed any and every dog of the team to jump on and bite him. His only redeeming trait was his earnestness in pulling, for, when the sledge stuck in deep snow or rubble-ice, he was the last of the dogs to sit on his haunches and look while you got it out. On several occasions when Ritenbank was making efforts to get inside the tent and steal the meat while all were asleep, Howler had given the alarm by his unearthly howling. His place in the team was on the right flank, and he kept it all the time, never dropping 144 back and coming up in the wrong place, as did the other dogs. Next to Howler was the “Woolly dog,” a dirty-looking cur with long white hair, which made Howler’s life a burden all the time by snapping at him as he hauled by his side. Next came the “kooneys,” signifying in Esquimaux mother-dogs. They were called “Black Kooney” and “White Kooney,” and were both good workers. Then came “Ask-him,” a pup when brought on board in Greenland, but now of age, and bearing the airs of a veteran. He brooked insult from no dog but Ritenbank, and evidently bided his time to contest the throne with him. He had even taken upon himself the kingly custom of biting the adjoining dog whenever he felt the whip. On his left were two dogs already named, “Major” and the “Boss.” On the left flank was “Gypsy,” a little fat kooney dog which pulled only under the lash, and yet by foraging and stealing managed to get twice the rations of any of the rest, and was always plump and fat.
The advance party reached Depot “A” in good time, and took on five sacks (five hundred pounds) of dog pemmican and some cans of corned beef, which made their load very heavy.
On the 5th of April, Lockwood reached the snow-house, and there found Brainard and the rest, making thirteen altogether. They completely filled the house, and also the dug-out in the snow-bank adjoining, so that Lockwood and Jewell moved the provisions out of the tent, and slept there, and Frederick in the tunnel. The tent being snowed in to the ridge-pole, 145 and connected with the tunnel, they were quite comfortable. On the same day they saw an eagle on a floe-berg, which was considered a good omen. After needed rest all hands took their departure. The snow on the ice-floe was somewhat deep, and the loads very heavy. The route across the straits, previously determined on, was from Cape Beechy to within five or six miles of the east shore, and then as direct as possible to Cape Sumner. On reaching the tent on the straits, about four and one half miles out, Lockwood dropped his load, and went back to look after the sledges, then out of sight. He found Whistler sick and unable to pull, and Biederbick and Connell trying to pull the load without him—not an encouraging commencement of a long journey. Aided by the dog-sledge, all soon reached the tent and camped for the night. Lockwood, Jewell, and Frederick slept in the wall-tent, pitched there some weeks before. Lockwood writes at this point: “Finding it very cold, I was glad to get up and out, leaving Jewell to the unhappy work of getting breakfast. (Breakfast! what a misnomer in such cases!) I then went to the two tents occupied by the others to inquire for healths. Mr. Henry, correspondent of the ‘Chicago Times’ (as he called himself), the same who had written on the side of a large iceberg, ‘Ho! for Cape Britannia,’ said he could go no farther, as he had been suffering dreadfully all night with rheumatism; or, if he did go farther, we would have to haul him back, while from here he thought he could manage to hobble by himself to the snow-house, and, after resting there and 146 again at Depot ‘A,’ reach the station. Henry is a big fellow, over six feet in height, with apparently the strength and physique of Hercules. It was a bad omen for the rest of us when he broke down. Connell had frozen his feet the previous day quite badly, and only discovered the extent of the injury after getting into camp, but thought he could go on, or at least was determined to try. All hands looked very forlorn, but generally were resolute and determined. Finally, Jewell had the tea and canned meat warmed sufficiently, and we stuffed ourselves with all there was to stuff, and prepared to follow the others who had already started. We overtook Fredericks (the saddler) struggling along in the snow with a sledge all by himself. He was a dwarf by the side of the giant Henry. It was necessary to do something, and so I told Jewell he must join Fredericks, and leave the Esquimaux and me to manage the dog-sledge. I overtook the main party about a mile and a half from camp, doing their best. Connell could hardly walk at all, and it was utterly impossible for him to pull. He was very reluctant to go back, but there was no alternative; so, throwing off the load, I took him on the dog-sledge as far as Cape Beechy, whence he thought he could get along by himself. On returning I picked up the load, and proceeded to follow the trail of the others. The snow soon became worse, and the sledge so often stuck that I determined to double up—take half the load at a time. The Esquimaux dogs can pull a very heavy load, and through bad places, but the moment the sledge comes to a dead halt they sit on their haunches, 147 turn complacently round, and wait till the sledge is extricated. If not fully started, they will pull at random, or not at all. On these occasions the hard work comes upon the driver and others with the sledge.”
On the 7th, they joined the other wing of the expedition, finding them in camp some miles south-west of the gap. The wind had been blowing and snow drifting for some hours, and everything indicated a storm. Lockwood and Frederick pitched tent and went into camp, first bringing up the rest of the load.
While the storm was still raging, they got off with half the load, leaving the rest making preparations for a move, and took a course for Cape Sumner, whose steep, rocky face loomed up in the distance, terminated by a line of magnificent cliffs, which extended unbroken, except by “the Gap,” as far south as Cape Lupton of Polaris fame. They traveled upon level floes interrupted by ridges of hummocky ice, over which they had to get the sledge as best they could, and with frequent use of the axe. The wind blowing stronger, and the air being obscured with driving snow, they could with difficulty pick their way. Traveling over the straits was like navigating a ship in a tortuous channel. They soon found themselves in the midst of a mass of rubble-ice of the worst description; gaps and chasms between the crags and blocks of ice, often filled with loose snow, or entirely obscured by that flying through the air. They could barely see the cliffs on their right, and could 148 not recognize their position. The dogs became very much discouraged, Frederick also, and Lockwood himself felt in no very enviable frame of mind. After many ineffectual efforts, and unloading and reloading repeatedly, they left the load and attempted to explore a route to shore. Not succeeding, they hunted for some suitable snow-drift in which to burrow, and there await better weather; but saw none. Finally, the storm letting up for a moment, they found a level floe, and, with the use of the axe, Lockwood and Frederick got the sledge upon it.
On the 8th, at 3 A. M., they arrived at Cape Sumner, and, getting through the rubble-ice near the shore, gained the steep snow-slope which lay between the foot of the cliffs and the line of immense floe-bergs along the shore, stranded and pressed close up to the snow-slope. Between the bergs and the slope, the wind had made great gaps, deep and tortuous. The only way to get along was either through these gaps—often like pits—or to take the slope above and run the risk of tumbling down into them, sledge and all, sometimes fifteen or twenty feet. There was often no alternative but the latter. Lockwood expected to find it calm there by reason of the protection of the bluffs, but, on the contrary, the wind came down from above in gusts and whirlwinds, filling the air with eddying columns of snow. When about a mile from the Polaris Boat Camp, they encountered an immense mass of snow entirely filling up the ravine from top to bottom. Leaving the sledge, Lockwood went on to see if he could reach the Boat Camp, 149 but could hardly keep his feet on account of the wind. Returning, he and Frederick made a small hole in the side of a large drift, and, pulling in everything the dogs could possibly eat, prepared to “weather the storm.” By 9 A. M., supper had been eaten in darkness, for they had no candles, and Frederick, wedged close up to him in the frozen sleeping-bag, was snorting away like a steam-engine. Lockwood soon fell asleep too, but woke up to find the sleeping-bag and his footgear and clothes wet with the moisture such close quarters produced. Everything inside was thawing. Soon after, masses of snow falling down through a number of rents in the side and roof of the excavation, he began to think they would be smothered alive. But while thinking about it, he went to sleep again, leaving Frederick snorting as before. Just how long they slept in that snow-bank, they did not know, but when they did wake up and try to emerge, they found themselves completely snowed in, and only got out by vigorous use of their knives, so hard and compact had the ice and snow become. Frederick being able to understand only signs and a very few words chiefly referring to food, their conversation was very limited.
They found the dogs and sledge almost buried in snow. Hastily harnessing up, they reached the Boat Camp on Newman’s Bay at noon. Here they again went into camp by digging into a snow-bank and covering the hole with the tent. “Skaffer,” or eating, being first in order, they supplied themselves by thawing their prepared roast. Then they had a smoke—that great solace of the traveler in every clime. Snow-houses 150 and snow-holes, they concluded, have many objections, but they always have the merit of being warm. Feeling uneasy about Brainard and his party, imagining all manner of things about them, at 9 P. M., Lockwood left everything behind and went forth with dogs and sledge to hunt them up, and at midnight met them valiantly struggling along toward the Boat Camp. They had found shelter from the storm behind a large, friendly floe-berg, where the tent could stand. On the 10th, preceding them, he picked up the bags of pemmican he had put off, and returned to Boat Camp, where they came also and burrowed in the snow. All thus found themselves at their first station. Jewell, being originally of the party of the dog-sledge, lodged and fed with them when together, he sleeping in a single bag, and Lockwood and Frederick together. “It was,” Lockwood remarks, “a choice of evils which to prefer—Frederick groaning like a piece of machinery, or Jewell always getting the stockings and wraps mixed up, and invariably laying hold of the dry ones as his own.”
“Snow-holes,” he again says, “having the insuperable objection of asphyxiation, we repaired the tents and returned to civilization—that is, went really into camp. Whistler and Bender were found completely done up this morning both in flesh and spirits—all kinds of pains, shortness of breath, spitting of blood, faintness. Not being enthusiastic about going farther, I deemed it best to send them back, and they left at once for the station.”
They now had several things to look to before going 151 farther—to bring up the rations sent across to the Gap, also to bring over those left at the tent on the straits.
At midnight, Brainard and party, with three Hudson Bay sledges, started on this work, and Lockwood left two hours after, with a dog-sledge and Frederick, for the same purpose. Taking advantage of smooth ice, interrupted now and then outside the pack near shore, he soon overhauled Brainard, and they reached the Gap together. There they found the boat, which had been sent over with so much labor, a complete wreck. They, however, placed it out of reach of further damage, as it might yet become important to them. They then went into camp by going into a snow-burrow prepared there some weeks before when the boat had been brought over, and proceeded to have a feast, which possessed at least one merit, that of being enough, for Lockwood did not deem it necessary to adhere strictly to sledge rations till they had left their base of supplies. Leaving the others to load up and return to Boat Camp, he and Frederick left with the dog-sledge for the food put out on the straits en route. Part of this they took up and then joined the others at Boat Camp, men and dogs well spent and tired; but a good meal, a good smoke, and a snooze in their bags, set them all right.
Their number was now reduced to nine, two having been sent back soon after leaving the snow-house (Depot “B”), and two from Boat Camp. The Hudson Bay sledges were much worn, and likely to become useless. Lockwood now determined to return to the 152 main station for new runners, leaving the men under Brainard to bring up the supplies still out, and otherwise make ready for the advance. The round trip would be one hundred miles, and would add much to the labor of the dogs, but there was no help for it, as he could take no chances on the threshold of the long journey before them.
Soon after making this resolve, he and Frederick got off with their team, carrying nothing but an axe and half a pound of tobacco. The dogs were in fine condition, notwithstanding their recent hard work. True, they supplemented their rations and thus added to their strength by stealing thirty-five pounds of bacon! “It is wonderful,” Lockwood here remarks, “what these Esquimaux dogs can do. This team, which was regarded as a scrub affair—Dr. Pavy having had his pick of dogs—hauled ice all through the winter, made a trip beyond Cape Beechy in February, another to Thank-God-Harbor and Newman’s Bay in March, and then hauled a load to Lincoln Bay and four days after started on this present trip; yet now they travel along as lively as ever—so lively that the driver finds it difficult to keep up.”
They duly reached the station, and, of course, Greely and all were surprised to see them, probably taking them for another cargo of cripples. After a good sleep and a feast, they were off on their return at 10 P. M. of the 14th. They took on the runners, a feed of walrus-meat, a few other trifles, and also a heliograph, the last to open communication in case of delay or disaster. Stopping six hours at the snow-house 153 to rest and feed, they started across the strait with a small load of meat, and, notwithstanding some rubble-ice which delayed them, reached the Boat Camp at 5.30 P. M., very tired and very sleepy, too, having accomplished this remarkable journey of one hundred miles in fifty-four hours. During their absence, Brainard had brought in everything, and all was ready for the advance as soon as they could repair the sledges.
After repairing and rebuilding, they had for the trip:
1. Dog-sledge, Lieutenant Lockwood and Esquimaux Frederick; total weight, 743 pounds.
2. Large sledge (the “Nares”), drawn by Sergeants Brainard and Ralston and Corporal Saler; estimated total weight, 651 pounds.
3. Hudson Bay sledge (“Hall”), drawn by Sergeant Jewell and private Fredericks; estimated total weight, 300 pounds.
4. Hudson Bay sledge (“Hayes”), drawn by Sergeant Lynn and Corporal Ellison; estimated total weight, 300 pounds.
Of this weight, 225 pounds was of equipments, independent of weight of sledges, and 900 pounds, of food for men and dogs.
At 10.30 P. M., they left the Boat Camp and crossed Newman’s Bay, to a ravine, or narrow valley, directly opposite, which the lieutenant called Gorge Creek after finding it was not the route he had taken it for—that of Beaumont’s return. The others being far behind, he left the sledge and proceeded on alone 154 to explore. Passing through a narrow gap, the valley widened out as before, in some places the exposed stones offering a serious obstacle to heavily laden sledges. Returning, he and Frederick went back with the team and assisted in bringing up the foot-sledges. Then, after an advance of ten miles in eight hours, all went into camp again. Leaving the camp at 10 P. M., and doubling up from the start, they made their way up the valley, through the gap, and to the head of the valley beyond. They found the exposed stones so annoying that Lockwood regretted often he had not taken the route round Cape Brevoort, notwithstanding the rubble-ice. Though Lockwood felt confident he had reached the divide, yet, throwing off the load, he sent Frederick with the team back to assist the others, while he went ahead to further reconnoitre. Although he ascended a high hill, he could see little encouraging beyond. He returned to the load and continued down-stream until he met the others painfully advancing, when all went into camp, after making an advance of six miles in eight hours.
Got off again with half-load at 10 P. M. Preceding the others, Lockwood and Frederick made their way over slightly undulating plains, keeping as far as possible northward until they came to a decided depression in that direction, sometimes following blind leads, and then returning and continuing on their former way. Lockwood finally saw before him the crest of the bluff of a water-course, gaining which he found to his joy a stream running north, which he entered. Though filled with snow, it afforded good 155 traveling for the dog team. Continuing down this stream, he passed between two large masses of rock like a gateway. Here was a regular ca?on as straight as a street and nearly level, whose sides were almost perpendicular and extremely picturesque. Seeing no signs of the sea, he resolved to camp here. To this end, throwing off the half load, he went back for that left behind, expecting to meet the foot-sledges on the way. Disappointed in this, he returned to the ravine, and at 6 P. M. he and Frederick were into their sleeping-bags, feeling much uneasiness about their route, for they had already traveled a much greater distance than the English maps called for as lying between Newman’s Bay and the north coast.
Although the men with the drag-sledges had not come up, Lockwood resolved to leave everything behind and go ahead down the ca?on with the empty sledge till assured that he was en route to the sea by finding the sea itself. Carrying out this resolve at 10 A. M., the ca?on soon widened into a valley, with deep, soft snow-bed or stones, and inclosed by lofty mountains. He crossed this, and came to a gorge like a railroad-cutting, through which the stream ran. Ascending an adjacent hill, before him lay what seemed an extended plain, which he recognized as the sea, from a line of floe-bergs marking the coast.
Just where they were, he did not know, nor did he find out till their return. The sea had been found, so now they were to find and bring up the men and sledges. Lockwood and Frederick, with the wearied team, rapidly went back and happily found the absent 156 ones, safely, if not comfortably, camped alongside their load.
All broke camp at 7 P. M. and proceeded to bring up such of the impedimenta as had been left behind; after which they made their way with great labor through the ca?on, valley, and gorge to the sea, reaching there, at 4 A. M. of the 22d, with everything except a seal-skin mit, which got adrift and went flying before the wind over the hills like a bird; for a terrific snow-storm was then raging. They found great difficulty in making the tents stand, and, indeed, abandoned the attempt except as to one, into which they all huddled to weather out the storm. The cooking was confined to making a little tepid tea. They remained in their bags, sleeping at intervals, and even going without food and water rather than venture out.
Finally, on the morning of the 23d, the storm had abated, and they ventured out, to find that the dogs had taken advantage of the circumstances to eat up twenty pounds of bacon and twelve pounds of beef, although these had been secured, as was supposed, at the bottom of a sledge. They had also eaten a seal-skin mitten. After some repairs to the sledges, which had suffered by the stony route passed over, they proceeded on their way along the coast, keeping on the ice-foot which here ran along a low, sloping shore backed by a range of hills. At Drift Point, the snow formed steep slopes, extending from the bluffs (now near the sea) to the tops of the line of floe-bergs along shore. There, the sledge “Nares” breaking down, it was necessary to abandon it and 157 increase the loads on the other sledges, carrying along the good parts of the “Nares” to repair the others when needful. Doubling up, they made their way along those steep slopes until near Black Horn Cliffs. Here the slopes became so abrupt that they were driven on to the rubble-ice near the shore. So difficult was their way over this with the heavily loaded sledges, that in many places by standing pulls only could progress be made. Near these cliffs they went into camp after bringing up the half-loads left behind, having advanced five miles in eight and a half hours. Leaving half their stuff, they then made their way over the rubble-ice, frequently using the axe, till they came to the end of the cliffs, when the sledges went back for the rest of the stuff, while Lockwood looked for a more practicable route. Off shore, half a mile seaward, he found a fair route, following which he reached Cape Stanton. He thought Stanton Gorge, where Beaumont had left forty rations, to be near. These, however, he failed to find. After taking a short nap in the lee of a hummock, he returned to find Frederick and the dog-sledge. The others coming up, all went into camp fully tired out, for, besides the roughness of the ice, they had encountered a stiff wind. Two ptarmigans were seen near Cape Stanton.
On the 25th of April Frederick declined breakfast—evidence of something wrong with him. Lockwood, therefore, resolved to go up to a gorge he had seen the previous day, and there go into camp and lie over a day. Frederick could hardly walk, and hence 158 rode when it was possible. Finding a snow-slope inside the hummocks, they made good progress and reached “Gorge Rest” in one hour. In the mean while the sun came out, and the air became calm and warm, affording a good opportunity for drying wet clothes and bags. Lockwood gave a drink of brandy to Frederick, and then displayed Mrs. Greely’s silk flag, as they had now attained a point higher than any American had before reached. In the afternoon, Jewell and Ralston succeeded in finding Beaumont’s cache farther on, and, as proof of their discovery, brought back a can of rum marked “Bloodhound,” the name of his sledge. It was about there that his first man was sent back with the scurvy. Afterward, when all but two had the disease, they had to go on or die in the traces.
On the 26th, Frederick was well, otherwise he would have been sent back. They built a cache and left one day’s ration for men and dogs; also, to lighten load, snow-shoes, head and foot gear, blankets, indeed everyth............