 Chapter 42. The Last of the Polaris Those left on board of the Polaris were oppressed with fears, both for themselves and those on the flow. The leak in the ship was serious, and the water was gaining in the hold, and threatened to reach and put out the fires, and thus renders the engine useless. Besides, the deck pumps were frozen up, and only two lower ones could be used. But just before it was too late, hot water was procured from the boiler, and poured in buckets full into the deck pumps, and they were thawed out. The men then worked at the pumps with an energy inspired by imminent danger of death. They had already been desperately at work for six unbroken hours, and ere long the fight for life was on the verge of failure. Just then came to the fainting men the shout, steams up, and tireless steam came to the rescue of weary muscles. As the dim light of the morning of October 16 dawned on the anxious watchers, they saw that they had been forced by the violent wind out of Bathin Bay into Smith's Sound. Not until now, since the hour of separation, had they counted their divided company. The assistant navigator, the meteorologist, all the Eskimo and six seamen were missing. Part of the dogs had also gone with the flow party. Fourteen men remained, including the commander and the mate, the surgeon and the chaplain. Men were sent to the masthead to look for the missing ones, but the most careful gaze with the best glass failed to discern them. Hope of their safety was inspired by the fact that they had all the boats, even to the little skull, yet it was not certainly known that the boats had not been sunk or drifted off in the darkness, and thus lost to them. So all was tantalizing uncertainty. An examination revealed the encouraging fact that a good supply of fuel and provisions remained on board. A breeze sprung up at noon by whose aid the Polaris was run eastward through a fortunate lead as near to the land as possible. Here lines were carried out on the flow and made fast to the hammocks, all the anchors having been lost. She lay near the shore and grounded at low water. An examination showed that the vessel was so battered and leaky that surprise-wicks excited that she had not gone down before reaching the shore. It was decided at once that she could not be made to float longer. The steam pumps were stopped, the water filled her hold and decided her fate. The sheltered place into which the Polaris had by divine guidance entered was Lifeboat Co., only a little north of Itach Bay, every mile of which we have surveyed in former visits. The famous city of Itach with its two huts was not far away, but out of it and its vicinity had come timely blessings to other winter-bound explorers. Our party at once commenced to carry assured the provisions closing ammunition and all such articles from the vessel as might make them comfortable. The spars, sails and some of the heavy woodwork of the cabin were used in erecting a house. When done, their building was quite commodious, being twenty-two feet by fourteen. The sails aided in making the roof, which proved to be watertight, and the snow thrown up against the sides made it warm. Within it was one room for all and for all purposes. Bunks were made against the sides for each of the fourteen men. A stove with cooking utensils was brought from the ship and set up. Lamps were suspended about the room, and a table with other convenience from the cabin were put in order. But before this was done, a party of Eskimo with five sledges made their appearance. They stopped at a distance and signified their friendly purpose by their customary vial gesticulations and antics. The white men at first took them for the flow-party and raised three rousing cheers to welcome. We doubt not, though it is not stated, that they were led on by our special friend, Kalutuna. The surly sipsil, it will be remembered, had received what he had sought to give to another, a harpoon planted in the back, and was dead. Though there was left none to rival Kalutuna, Miok, the boy that was in Cain's day, was reported as an old man now. Eskimo grew old rapidly. The whole party went to work with a will, having pleasant visions before them, of a new stalk of needles, knives, and other white men treasures. They clambered over the hammocky flow, bringing loads of coal from the ship, and with their sleds brought fresh water ice for the melting apparatus. Several families finally came, put their huts near the vessel, and spent the winter. The shipwrecked whites had nearly worn out their first suits, and their supply-o had been greatly reduced by the losses on the flow. So the Eskimo replenished their stock, and their women repaired the worn ones. Thus God makes the humblest and the weakest able at times to render essential help to the strong, and none need be useless. The winter wore off. There was no starvation, nor even short rations. The coal burned cheerfully in the stow until February, and then fuel torn from the Polaris supplied its place. The friendly natives brought fresh walrus meat, and scurvy was kept away. For all their valuable services, the Eskimo felt well repaid in the coveted treasures which were given them. The time during the sunless days was passed in reading, writing, amusements, and discussions, according to the taste and inclination of each. Of course, there were some daily domestic duties to be done. The scientific men pursued their inquiries so far as circumstances allowed. The dismal story which we had so often paint our ears concerning the Eskimo was true of them generally during the winter. They were suffering with cold and hunger, and three, one of whom was Miok died. The explorers returned the Eskimo kindness by sharing with them in a measure their own stock of provisions. The spring came, and with it successful hunting. One deer was shot, and some hare scored. Chester's mate, who seems to have been the Yankee of the party, planned and assisted the carpenter in building two boats. The material was wrenched from the Polaris. They were each twenty-five feet long and five feet wide, square, four and aft, capable of carrying, equally divided between them, the fourteen men, two months provisions, and other indispensable articles. When these were done, they made a smaller boat and presented it to the Eskimo. It would aid them in getting eggs and young birds about the shore. Clear water did not reach lifeboat co until the last of May. On its appearance in the immediate vicinity, the waiting explorers put everything in readiness for their departure. The boats were laden, and each man assigned his place. Bags were made of the canvas sails in which to carry the provisions. What remained of the Polaris was given to the Eskimo chief, we guessed to our friend Kalutuna, as an acknowledgement of favours received. On the third of June, in fine spirits and good health, the explorers launched their boats and sailed southward. At first the boats leaked badly, but they sailed and rode easily and proved very serviceable. It was continuous day and the weather favourable. Seals could be had for the pains of hunting them, and the seafowl were so plenty that ten were at times brought down at a shot. On the downward trip all localities were touched, such as Itach, Hakluut Island and Norsenberland Island. The average amount of arctic storms were encountered. The drift ice behaved in its usual manner, though not as badly as it has been known to do. The little crafts had their hair-breaths escapes, and were battered not a little. Every night, when the toils of the day were over, the boats were drawn upon the flow, everything taken out, and the only hot meal of the day was prepared. Each boat carried pieces of rope from the Polaris and a can of oil. With these a fire was made in the bottom of an iron pot, or this fire they made their steaming pots of tea. The party halted a while at Fitzclerons Rock in Booth Bay, about 16 miles south of the Cape Perry, and was in sight of the high Bleak Plain, on which Dr. Hayes Boat Party spent their fearful winter. On the tenth day of their voyaging they had reached Cape York. In comparison to Dr. Cain's trip over the same waters, theirs was a summer holiday excursion. But Melville Bay was now before them with its defiant bergs, hammocks, currents, stormy winds, and blinding snows, a horrid crew. No wonder that the fear prevailed amongst them, that if not rescued they could never reach any settlement. Chester have ever said, we can and will. But the rescuers were not afar off. For another ten days they were made to feel that their battle for life was to be a hard foot one. On the twenty-third they saw away in the distance what appeared to be a whaler. Could it be? They dared scarcely thrust their eyes, for the object was ten miles away. Yes, it was a steamer, and beset too, so she could not get away. New courage was inspired, and they toiled on. But for this timely spur to their zeal they would have lost heart, for one of the boats in being lifted over the hammocks was badly stow, and their provisions were giving out, though they had calculated that they had two months supply. Soon after they saw the steamer they were seen by the watch from the must-head. They were taken for Eskimo, but a sharp lookout was kept upon their movement, which soon showed them to be white men. Signals of recognition were immediately given, and eighteen picked men were sent to their relief. Seeing this, Captain Buddington sent forward two men, and the rescuers soon met and returned with them. With even this addition to their strength, it took six hours to drag the boats, the twelve miles, which intervened between them and the whaler. They were received with a kind-hearted welcome by the noble scotch men, Captain Allen, of the Ravenscraig, of Dundee. Their toils were over, and their safety ensured. We will return to those on the flow. End of Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Mudge This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 43 The Fearful Situation One of the anchors of the Polaris, in starting on the night of the separation, tore off a large piece of the flow with three men upon it. As the Polaris swept past them, they cried out in agony, what shall we do? Captain Buddington shouted back, We can do nothing for you, you have boats and provisions, you must shift for yourselves. This was the last word from the Polaris. Seeing the sad plight of these men, Captain Tyson, who from the first had been upon the flow, took the donkey, a little skow which had been tossed upon the ice, and attempted to rescue them. But the donkey almost at once sunk, and he jumped back upon the flow and launched one of the boats. Some of the other men started in the other boat at the same time, and the three men were soon united to the rest of the flow party. One of the last things Tyson drew out of the way of the vessel as its heel was grinding against the parting flow were some musk ox skins. They lay across a widening crack, and in a moment more would have been sunk in the deep, or crushed between colliding hummocks. Rolled up in one of them, and coosily nestling together, were two of Han's children. Does not God care for children? Our darkness and storm beset party did not dare to move about much, for they could not tell the size of the ice on which they stood, nor at what moment they might step off into the surging waters. So they rolled themselves up in the musk ox skins and slept. Captain Tyson alone did not lie down, but walked coosiously about during the night. The morning came, and with it a revelation of their surroundings. Huge bergs were in sight which had in the storm and darkness charged upon the flow, and caused the breaking up of the preceding night. It had been a genuine arctic assault. Their own raft was nearly round, and about four miles in circumference, and immovably locked between several grounded bergs. It was snow-covered, and full of hillocks and intervening ponds of water, which the brief summer sun had melted from their sides. Those who had laid down were covered with snow, and looked like little mounds. When the party roused, the first thing they thought of was the ship. But she was nowhere to be seen. A lead opened to the shore, inviting their escape to the land. Captain Tyson ordered the men to get the boats in immediate readiness, reminding them of the uncertainty of the continued opening of the water, and of the absolute necessity of instant escape from the flow in order to regain the ship and save their lives. But the men were in no hurry, and obedience to orders had long been out of their line. They were hungry and tired, and were determined to eat first. And they didn't want a cold meal, and so they made tea and chocolate, uncooked canned meat. This done, they must change their wet clothes for dry ones. In the meantime, the drifting ice was in a hurry, and had shut up in part the lead. But Tyson was determined to try to reach the shore, though the difficulties had so greatly increased during the delay. The boats were laden and lounged, but when they were about halfway to the shore, the lead closed, and they returned to the flow, and holed up the boats. Just then the Polaris was seen under both steam and sail. She was eight or ten miles away, but signals were set to attract her attention, and she was watched with a glass with intense interest, until she disappeared behind an island. Soon after Captain Tyson sent two men to a distant part of the flow to a house made of poles, which he had erected for the stores, soon after they began to be thrown from the vessel. In going for these poles, the steamer was again seen, apparently fast in the ice behind the island. She could not then come to the flow party, being beset and without boats, and so Tyson ordered the men to get the boats ready for another attempt to reach the land, and thus in time connect with the vessel. He lightened the boats of all articles not absolutely necessary, that they might be drawn to the water safely and with speed. He then went ahead to find the nearest and best route for embarking. The grounded bergs in the meanwhile relaxed their grasp upon the explorer's ice raft, and they began to drift southward. With malicious intent, Owen came a terrific snowstorm at the same time. Tyson hurried back to hasten up the men. They were in no hurry, but with grumbling and trifling finally made ready, as they pretended one boat crowded with everything both needful and worthless. When at last it was dragged to the water's edge, it was ascertained that the larger part of the oars and the rudder had been left at the camp far in the rear. In this crippled condition the boat was launched, but not only oars and rudder, but will on the part of the men was wanting. So the boat was drawn upon the floor, and left was all its valuables near the water. Tonight was approaching, the storm was high, and the men were weary, so no attempt was made to return it to the old camp. All went back to the middle of the flow. Tyson, Mr. Myers, one of the scientific corps and the Eskimo, made a canvas shelter using the poles of the frame, and the others camped near them. Captain Tyson, after eating a cold supper, rolled himself in a musk ox skin, and lay down for the first sleep he had sought for 48 hours. His conditions seemed to be a specially hard one. While on the night of the great disaster, he was striving to save the general's doors, the saving of which proved the salvation of the company. Others were looking after their personal property, so they had their full supply of furs and firearms, while his were left in the ship. He, however, slept soundly until the morning, when he was startled by a shriek from the Eskimo. The flow had played them arctic trick. It had broken and set the whole party adrift on an ice raft, not more than one hundred and fifty yards square. What remained of their old flow of four-mile circumference contained the house made of poles, in which remained six bags of bread and the loaded boat. In which were the greater part of their valuables. Here was a fearful state of things. Yet one boat remained, with which they might have gone after the other one, but the men seemed infatuated and refused to go. Away, the little raft sailed, crumbling as it went, assuring its passengers that they must all stow away in their one boat or soon be dropped into the sea. For four days they thus drifted, during which the Eskimo shot several seals. On the twenty-first Joe was using the spyglass and suddenly shouted for joy. He had spied the lost boat lodged on a part of the old flow, which had swung against the little raft of our party. He and Captain Tyson was a dog team, instantly started for it, and after a hard pull returned with boat and cargo. Soon after, their old flow in an accommodating mood thrust itself against the one they were on. The boats were passed over, and everything was again together, boats and provisions. Let us now look around upon our party more critically. The whole number was twenty, including the ten weeks old Charlie Polaris, who of course was somebody. As we have stated, all the Eskimo were of this party. Both the Cooke and Steward were here. Much of the larger number of the dogs belonging to the expedition were on the flow, but no sledges. Fortunately in addition to the two boats, one of the kayaks had been saved. It might, in the skillful hands of a Joe, meet some emergency. As there was only faint hope now of again seeing the Polaris, and as their ice boats seemed to sail farther and farther from the shore, they began to make the best winter quarters their circumstances allowed. Under the direction of Joe, an architect and builder, several snow houses were put up. One was occupied by Captain Tyson and Mr. Myers, one by Joe and family, a larger one by the men, and one was used for its provisions, and one for a cookhouse. All these were united by an arched passageway. Hunts and family located their house apart from the others but near. The huts erected, their next pressing need was sledges. The men, with great difficulty, dragged some lumber from the old storehouse, and a passable one was made. Though the quantitative provisions was quite large, yet with nineteen persons to consume it, and not to reckon little Charlie's mouth, who looked elsewhere for his supply, and with possibly no addition for six months, it was alarmingly small. Besides, in their unprincipled greed, some of the party broke into the storeroom, and took more than a fair allowance. So the party agreed upon two meals a day, and awaited allowance at each meal. It was now the last of October, the sun had ceased to show his pleasant face, and the long night was setting in. To add to their discomfort, the question of light and fuel assumed a serious aspect. The men, either from want of skill or patience, or both, did not succeed well in using seal fat for these purposes in the Eskimo fashion. So they began, with a reckless disregard to their future safety, to break up and burn one of the boats. Hunts, with a true Eskimo instinct, when the short allowance pinched him, began to kill and eat the dogs. He might be excused, however. Four children, with their faces growing haggard, looked to him for food. Thus situated, our flow party drifted far away from the land, drifting on and on, whether they slept or woke, drifting they knew not, to what end. End of Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Maj. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 44 The Wonderful Drift Early in November Captain Tyson saw, through his glass, about 12 miles off to the southeast, the Kerry Islands. So they were in the north water of Baffin Bay, and southwest from Cape Perry, where we have been so many times. From the escape, or a little south of it, it would not be a great sledge trip to where they last saw the Polaris, and where they had reason to think she now was. So our party made one more effort to reach the shore. The boats being in redness the night before, they started early in the morning. Of course, their day was now only a noon twilight, and the morning was most midday. But the flow was not in a favouring mood. The hammocks were as hard in their usage of the boats, and men as usual. The deceitful cracks in the ice at one time, put the lives of the dogs and men in great peril. And, as if these obstacles were not enough, a storm brought up its forces against them. They had dragged the boats halfway to the shore when they retreated before superior forces. Their huts being of perishable material were reconstructed. A little later the men built a large snow hut as a reserve. All were weak through insufficient food. Mr. Myers was nearly prostrate, Mr. Myers was nearly prostrate, and went to live with the men. Captain Tyson, whose scanty clothing added to care and short rations, caused him to suffer much, took up his quarters with Joe and Hannah, and their little puny. Not the least of the trial in the Eskimo Huts was the piteous cries of the children for food. Joe and Hunts were out with their guns every day during the three hours twilight, hunting seals. The first one captured was shot by Joe, November 6. Nearly two weeks passed before any further success attended the hunters. Then several were shot, and Captain Tyson, who was ready to perish, had one full meal, a meal of uncooked seal meat, skin hair and all, washed down with seal blood. Some others had not been so long without a full meal, as the bread continued to be stolen. The home Thanksgiving day came. A little extra amount of the canned meat was allowed each one, and all had a taste of mock turtle soup, and canned green corn, kept for this occasion, to which was added a few pieces of dried apple. How far it all fell short of the home feast, may be judged by the fact that Captain Tyson, to satisfy the fierce hunger which remained after dinner, finished with eating strips of frozen seals entrails, and lastly seal skin, hair and all. The hunters had seen tracks of bears, so they were on the lookout for them, while they hunted seal. One day Joe and Hunts went out as usual with their guns. They lost sight of each other and of the camp. Joe returned quite late, expecting to find Hunts already in his hut, when he learned that he had not returned, he, as well as others, felt concerned about him, accompanied by one of the men he went in search of him. As the two guns in hand were stumbling over the hammocks, they saw in the very dim twilight, as they thought a bear. Their guns were instantly levelled and brought to the sight, and their mouths almost tasted a bear meat supper. Hold on there, that's not a bear, what is it? Why, it's Hunts. Well, he did look in the darkness like a bear, and in his shaggy coat he clambered on all fours over the icy hills. December came in with its continuous night. Seals could not be successfully hunted in the darkness, and where seals could not be seen, bears would not make their appearance. The Russians became smaller than ever, and ghastly horrid starvation seemed encamped among our drifting, forlorn party. Under these circumstances a spectre even worse than starvation appeared to Joe. To him at least it was a terrifying reality. It was the demon form of cannibalism. He had looked into the eyes of the men in the big hut, and they spoke to him of an intention to save themselves by first killing, and eating hunts and family, and then taking him and his. He and Hunna were greatly terrified, and he handed his pistol to Captain Tyson, which he was not willing to part with before. He was assured that the least child should not be touched for so horrid a purpose, without such a defence as the pistol could give. Christmas came. The last ham had been kept for this occasion, and it was divided among all with a few other dainties in addition to the usual morsel. The shore occasionally appeared in the far away distance. They were drifting through Baffin Bay towards the western side, so that their craft evidently did not intend to land them on any of the familiar ports of Greenland. It seemed to have an ambition to drop them nearer home. As the year was going out, and Joe's family were gnawing away at some dried seal skin, submitted to be sure, to a process Hunna called cooking. A shout was heard from him. Kayak, kayak, he cried. He had shot a seal, and it was floating away. Fortunately the kayak was at hand, and the game was bagged. As usual, it was divided among all. The eyes were given to Charlie Polaris, and they were nice in his eyes and mouth too. New years came, and Captain Tyson died on two feet of frozen seal entrails and little seal fat. There was now nothing to burn except what little seal blubber they could spare for that purpose. One boat had been burned, their only sled had gone the same way, and the reckless desperate men could hardly be restrained from burning the only one now remaining, and thus cut off all good hope of final escape. To be sure, their provocation to this act was very great. The temperature was 36 below zero. In their strait, the desperate expedient was entertained of trying to get to land. The emaciated men would have to drag the loaded boat over the hammocky ice without a sledge. The women and children must be added to the load or abandoned. It would be a struggle for life against odds more fearful than that which now oppressed them. But what should they do? God knew. Hark! What shout is that? kayak, kayak! The kayak was at hand, but it had to be carried a mile. Yet it paid for a seal shot by Joe was secured just in time to keep the men from utter desperation. To this item of comfort another was added a few days later. The sun reappeared January 19th after an absence of 83 days and remained shining upon them two hours. He brought hope to fainting hearts. Through January there was a seal taken at long intervals, but one always came just before it was too late. The men continued to grumble and deceive themselves with the idea of soon getting to disco where rum on tobacco were plenty. How sad that men can sink below the brute, which have ever hungry, never cries out for rum on tobacco. Leaving for a moment the white men, let us look into the eskimo hearts and see how the terrible condition of things affects them. The men are almost always out hunting, but just now as we step into Joe's snow dwelling he is at home. The only lighter fire is that which comes from the scanty supply of seal oil. Captain Tyson is trying to write with a pencil in his journal, but he appears cold in his scanty covering of furs and looks weak and hungry. Joe and Hannah are striving to pass away, the weary hours by playing checkers on an old piece of canvas, which the captain has marked into squares with his pencil. They are using buttons for men and seem quite interested in the game. Little puny is sitting by, wrapped in a musk ox skin, uttering at intervals a low, plenty of cry for food. It is the most cheerful home on board the flow, but surely it is cheerless enough. We shall not wish to tarry long in the heart of Huns, for besides the unavoidable misery of the place, Mr. and Mrs. Huns are noted for the borders they keep about their persons. Under the most favorable circumstances, they regard bathing as one of the barbarous customs of civilization. The reader will recollect that the first experience Mrs. Huns had of a personal cleansing was on board Dr. Hayes' vessel, and she then thought it a joke imposed by the white people's religion to grievous to be born. On another exploring vessel she and her husband were cruelly required to put off their long-worn garments, wash and put on clean ones, and put the old in a strong pickle, for an obvious reason. It is not certainly known that they were ever washed at any other times. Mrs. Huns' hut is not in the most tidy order, but the circumstances must be taken into the account, and also the fact of the sad neglect of her early domestic education. We have just drifted from her native land, or rather ice, where she was married, in Dr. Keynes' time, it being a runaway match at least on the part of the husband. Well, here they are, father, mother and four children, on a voyage unparalleled in the history of navigation. Mr. and Mrs. Huns do not play any household games. They do not know what to do at home except to eat and feed the children, and make and mend skin-clothing. We know full well to what sad disadvantage the eating is subjected at the time of our call, and we are authorized to say to the credit of Mrs. Huns that, as to the making and mending, she has been of real service to the men on this voyage. The children of Huns cannot fail to attract our attention and sympathy. Augustina, the firstborn, usually fat and rugged if not ruddy, is thin and pale now, and sits chewing a bit of dried seal skin, or something of the sort, and trying to get from it a drop of nourishment. Her brother, Tobias, has thrown his head into her lap as she sits on the ground. The poor little fellow has been sick, unable to eat even the small allowance of meat given him, and has lived, one hardly knows how, on a little dry bread. Suki, the four-year-old girl, squats on the ground, that is, the canvas-covered ice floor, hugging her foreskin about her, and in a low, moaning tone repeats, I is so hungry. Her mother is trying to pick from the lamp for the children, a few bits of dried-out scraps of blubber. Little Charlie's head is just discernible in the fur hood which hangs from the mother's neck at her back. If he gets enough to eat, which we fear is not the case, he is sweetly ignorant of the perils of this, his first trip in the voyage of life. We shall not want to stay longer in this sad place. February was a dreadful month on board the flow. The huts were buried under the snow. It was with difficulty that Joe and Hans, almost the entire dependents of the party, could go abroad for game. And when they did, they secured a few seals only, very small, and now and then a dovekey, a wee bit of a pensive seabird. Norwhal the sea unicorn were shot in several instances, but they sunk in every case and were lost. Hunger and fear seemed to possess the men in the large tent, and Joe and Hannah began to be again terrified by the thought that these hunger-mad men would kill and eat them. Now, will not God appear to help those in so helpless a condition? Yes, his hand has ever been wonderfully apparent in all Arctic perils. On the second of March, just when the dark cloud of these drifting sufferers was never darker, it parted, and a flood of light burst upon their camp. Joe shot an ukyok belonging to the largest species of seal. He was secured and dragged by all hands to the huts. He measured nine feet, weighed about 700 pounds, and contained by estimation 30 gallons of oil. There was a shout of steel in the camp. The warm blood was relished like new milk and drank freely. All eat and slept, and woke to eat again, and hunger departed for the time. From the miserable huts it had so long hounded. Joe and Hannah dismissed their horrid visions of cannibalism. God was the helper of these hungry ones, and they were helped. End of Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Maj. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 45 The Wonderful Escape Our voyagers needed all the strength and courage which the timely capture of the Great Seal had given them. They had drifted into a warmer sea, and windy march was well upon them. Their flow began to herald its fast approaching dissolution. The very enanxious drifters were startled by day, and awakened suddenly by night, by rumbling, mingled with fearful grindings and crashes underneath them. Heavy ice-cakes, over-road by the heavier flow, ground along its under-surface, and, when finding an opening of thin ice, rushed with a sundering sound to the upper surface. The din was at times so great that it seemed to combine all alarming sounds. Through all its scale the horrid discord ran, now mocked the beast, now took the throne of man. On the eleventh a storm commenced, whole fleets of icebergs having broken away from the icy bands, in which the flow had held them, hovered round to charge upon the helpless campers. The vast area of ice on which they had been riding for so many months was lifted in places by mighty seas beneath, causing it to crack with a succession of loud reports and dismal sounds, some of which seemed to be directly under them. The wind drove before it a dense cloud of snow, so that one could scarcely see a yard. Night came with a darkness that could be felt. The icy foundation of their camp might separate at any moment, and tumble their huts about their ears, or plunge them into the sea. They gathered their few treasures together and stood ready to fly, but where? Death seemed to guard every avenue of escape. Suddenly, soon after the night set in, the disruption came. Their flow was shattered with a fearful uproar into hundreds of pieces, and they went surging off amongst the fragments on a piece, less than a hundred yards square. They were within twenty yards of its edge, but God had kindly forbid the separation to run through their camp and sever them from their boat or from each other. After raging sixty hours the storm abated, and their little ice ship drifted rapidly in the pack. A goodly number of seals were shot, and they began to breathe more freely. After a short time another ukyuk was captured, so food was plenty. March wore away, seals were plenty and readily taken, and though the bergs ground together and made fierce onsets into the pack, our ice ship held gallantly on her way. One night the inmates of Joe's heart were about retiring, when a noise was heard outside. What is it, Joe? Is the ice breaking up? Joe does not stop to answer, but rushes out. But in ten seconds he comes back in a greater hurry, pale and breathless. There's a bear close to my kayak, he exclaims in an excited tone. Now the situation was this. The kayak was within ten paces of the entrance to the hut, and the loaded guns, which can never be kept in an eskimo hut on account of the moisture, were in unleaning against the kayak. If the bear should take a notion to put his nose at the hut door, and liking the odour knock down the snow wall with his strong paw, and commence a supper on one of its inmates, what was to hinder him. But bears, like many young people, often fail to improve their golden opportunities. He found some seal fat and skins in the kayak, and these he pulled out, and walked off with them a rod or two to enjoy the feast. Joe crept out of the hut, and ran to alarm the men. Captain Tyson followed, slipped softly up to the kayak and seized his gun. But in taking it he knocked down another one and alarmed the bear, who looked up and growled his objections to having his supper disturbed. Tyson levelled his rifle, snapped it, but it missed fire. He tried a second and third time, and it did not go. But he did, for his bearship was taking the offensive. Content to see his enemy flee, the bear returned to his supper. How many foolish bears have we seen on our explorations lose their lives, by an untimely eating, but some men more foolish lose more than life by drinking. The captain returned to the field with a new charge in his gun. This time it sent a ball through the bear. The ball entering the left shoulder and passing through the heart came out at the other side. He staggered, but before he fell Joe hand sent another ball into his vitals. He dropped dead instantly. This affair occurred when it was too dark to see many yards, and was much pleasanter in its results than its duration. The seal hunting was successful, and with bare meat and lubber, a full store, there was no hunger and appeased. But the wind blew agale, and the sailless, rather less orless little ice ship, now banging against the berg, and now in danger of being run down by one, all the while growing alarmingly smaller, finally shot out into the open sea away from the flow. This would not do. So feeling that they might soon be dropped into the sea, they loaded the boat with such things as was strictly necessary, and all hands getting aboard sailed away. A part of their ammunition, their fresh meat, a full month's supply and many other desirable things were abandoned. The boat, only intended to carry eight persons, was so overloaded with its twenty, including children, that it was in danger of being swamped at any moment. The frightened children cried, and the men looked sober. They sailed about twenty miles west, and landed on the first tolerably safe piece of ice which they met. Hands and family nestled down in the boat, and the rest, spreading on the flow what skins they had, set up a tent, and all, after eating a dry supper of bread and pemmican, lay down to rest. Thus, boating by day and camping on the ice at night for several days, they drew up on the fourth of April, upon a solid looking flow. Snow huts were built, seals were taken, and hope revived. But what is hope, resting on arctic promises? The gale was abroad again, the sea boisters, and their flow was thrown into a panic. Fearful noises were heard beneath and around them, and their icy foundations quaked with fear. Joe's snow hut was shaken down. He built it again, and then lot on house fell off into the sea and disappeared. Thus warned, the camp was pushed further back from the water. But they did not know where the crack and separation would next come. Thus they lived in anxious watching through very days. The gale unabated. Finally, one night, the feared separation came. All hands except Mr. Myers were in the tent, near them, so near a man could scarcely walk between was the boat, containing Myers and the kayak. But with mischievous intent, the crack ran so as to send the boat drifting among the breaking and overlapping ice. Mr. Myers could not manage it, of course, under such circumstances, and the kayak was of no use to any but an eskimo. So he set it afloat, hoping it would drift to the flow party. Here was a fearful situation. The flow party, as well as Mr. Myers, was sure to perish miserably if the boat was not returned. There was only a dim light, and objects at a short distance looked hazy. It was a time for instant and desperate action. Joe and Hans took their paddles and ice spears and started for the boat, jumping from one piece of floating slippery ice to another. They were watched in breathless suspense, until they seemed in the shadowy distance to have reached the boat, and then all was shut out in the darkness. The morning came, and the flow party were glad to see that the boat had three men in it. It was a half-mile off, and the kayak was as far away in another direction. It was soon clear that the boat could not be brought back without a stronger force. Tyson led the way, and finally all but two of the men made the desperate passage of the floating ice to the imperiled craft. It was with difficulty that, with their combined force, the boat was returned to the flow. The kayak was also recovered. For a brief time there was quiet all round. The aurora gleamed, and displayed its wonderful beauty of form and motion, while the majestic icebergs in every varied shape reflected its sparkling light. The grandeur of sea and sky seemed a mockery to the danger bestowed voyagers. The elements might be grand, but they had combined to destroy them, for a new form of peril now appeared. The sea came aboard of their icy craft. They were sitting one evening under their frail tent, the boat near. When a wave swept over their flow, carrying away tent clothing provisions, everything except what was on their persons or in the boat. The women and children had been put on board, in fear of such an occurrence, and the men had just time to save themselves by clinging to the gun whale. The boat itself was born into the middle of the flow. When the waves subsided, the boat was dragged back, lest another push by a succeeding one might launch it into the sea from the other side. It was well they did this, for another wave bore it to the opposite edge and partly slipped it into the water. This game of surging the boat from one side to the other of the flow was kept up from nine o'clock in the evening to seven in the morning. All this time the men were in the water fighting the desperate battle for its safety, and the preservation of their own lives. The conflict being made more charitable by the fact that every wave bore with it ice blocks from a food square to those measuring many yards, having sharp edges and jagged corners with which it battered their legs until they were black and blue. It was the severest test of their courage and endurance yet experienced, but God was their helper. Not one perished, and when the defeated sea was by his voice commanded to retire, and the day appeared, they were not seriously harmed, but they were cold and wet without a change of clothes and utterly provisionless. It is not surprising that after their rough handling on the flow they should seek a larger and safer one. This they did, launching their crowded boat into the turbulent sea and working carefully along, succeeded in landing safely on one stronger looking. Nothing worse happening than the tumbling overboard of the cook who was quickly rescued. Here, cold, half-drowned, hungry and weary to faintness, they tried to dry and warm themselves in the feeble rays of the sun and wait for their food at the hand of the great provider in the use of such means as were yet left to them. They had preserved their guns and a small supply of powder and shot. Snow and rain came on and continued until noon of the next day, April 22nd. Their hunger was fearful. Mr. Myers had been slightly frostbitten when drifting away alone in the boat. His health seemed broken, and he was actually starving. In the afternoon of this day Joe went as usual with his gun. He had caught nothing on this flow, and now there were no signs of seals, though it was his first time out that day. What should they do? God had their relief all arranged. Joe saw what he did not expect to see, and what was seldom seen so far south, a bear. He ran back to the boat, called Hunts with his trusty rifle, and the two lay down behind the hammocks. All were ordered to lie down, keep perfectly quiet, and feign themselves seals, the Eskimo helping out the deception by imitating the seal bark. Bruin came unconsciously. He too was hungry. What are those black objects, and what is that noise, he seemed to say? They don't look quite like seals. The noise is not just like the seal cry. But hunger is a weighty reason with men and bears, on the side of what they desire to believe, so the bear came on. When fairly within an easy range, both rifles cracked, and he fell dead. The whole party arose with a shout. Polar was dragged to the boat and skinned. His warm blood slaked their raging thirst. His meat, tender and good, satisfied their knowing hunger. They were saved from a terrible death. Seals were secured soon after, and hope again revived. It was not long before their ice craft crumbled away, so they were obliged to repeat the experiment, always full of danger, of launching into the sea and making for a larger and safer one. April 28th they were beset by a fleet of birds, which were crashing against each other with a thundering noise, and occasionally turning a threatening look towards the fail craft of our drifters. So angrily at last did one come down upon them, that they abandoned their flow and rode away. Surely there is no peace for them by night or day, on the flow or a float in their boat. They dare not lie down a moment, without keeping one half of their number on the watch. But what is that in the distance? A steamer. A thrill of joy goes through the boat's company. Every possible signal is given, but she does not see them, and another night is spent on the flow. The next morning every eye was straining to see a whaler. Soon one appears. They shout, raise their signals and fire every gun at once. But she passes out of sight. April 30th, as the night was setting in foggy and dark, the shout from the watch of steamer brought all to their feet. She was right upon them in the fog before she was seen. Hans was soon alongside of her in his kayak, telling their story as best he could. In a few moments the whaler was alongside of their piece of ice. Captain Tyson removed his old, well-worn cap, called upon his men, and three cheers were given, ending with a tiger, such as the poor fellows had not had a heart to give for many long months. The cheers were returned by a hundred men from the rigging and deck of the vessel. It was the sealer Tigress, Captain Bartlett, of Conception Bay, Newfoundland. They soon had the planks of a good ship beneath them, instead of a treacherous flow. Curious but kind friends beset them, instead of threatening bergs, and every comfort succeeded to utter destitution. They had been on the flow six months, and floated more than 1600 miles. They were speedily conveyed by the way of Conception Bay and St. John's to their own homes, the telegraph having flashed throughout the length and breadth of the land they're coming, and the nation rejoiced. But there were tears mingled with the joy, that one, the noble, the true, the Christian commander of the expedition, Charles Francis Hall, lay in his icy grave in the far north. As speedily as possible the Tigress was purchased and fitted out by the United States government in search of the Polaris party. Captain Tyson and Joe were among her men. She reached Lifeboat Co. about two months after Captain Buddington and his men had left. They learned that much to the grief of the natives, the Polaris had floated off and sunk. The Buddington party arrived home in the fall by the way of England. As we may not meet our Eskima friends again, with whom we have made so many voyages, the reader will want to know the last news from them. Hans and his family returned to Greenland in the Tigress. Joe has bought a piece of land and a house near New London, Connecticut, unintense, with his family to remain there, getting a living by fishing. Thus ended the last American North Pole expedition. The last from other governments have not been more successful. Yet while we've right in London, Austria, are reported as getting ready further North Polar expeditions to start in the spring of 1875. It must be allowed that the icy scepter guardian of the North has made a good fight against the invaders into his dominions. But the nations of the earth are determined to send men to sit on his throne, though they find it a barren and worthless, as well as a cold domain. The end. End of chapter 45. This is also the end of North Pole voyages by Zahari A. Manj. Recorded by Christine Indriga Latvia, February 29, 2020.