 Chapter 23 Narrow Escapes Having brought forward the provisions to Anno took, Dr. Cain, with the help of Metek and his dogs, began to remove them still farther south, making one deposit near Cape Hutherton and the other yet farther, near Littleton Island. But an immediate journey for Itach, where Valrus had become necessary. The hard-working men were improving on this greasy food, and they wanted it in abundance. Dr. Cain found the Itahids fat and full. He left his weary, well-mourned dogs to recruit on their abundance, and returned with their only team, which was well fed and fresh. They made the trade without any grumbling. When he came back, the Brooks Party were within three miles of Anno took. They were getting along bravely and eating voraciously, and the old cry, more provisions, saluted the commander. Leaving the dogs to aid in transferring the stores to the southern stations, Dr. Cain and Irish Tom Hickey started afoot to the brig to do another baking. It was a sixteen-hour strump, but ere they slept they converted nearly a barrel of flour, the last of the stock, into the staff of life. An old pickled cabbage cask was used as a knedding trough, and sundry volumes of the penny-cyclopedia of useful knowledge were burned during the achievement. Tom declared the work done to be worthy of his own country's bakers, and he had been one of them same, so he deemed that praise enough. When the doctor lamented that the flour so used was the last of the stock, Tom exclaimed, all the better, sir, since we'll have no more bread to make. Godfrey came to the brig on the third day with the dogs to carry back the baking, but the howling storm delayed them all on board. It was Sunday, and the last time that Dr. Cain expected to be in the cabin was any of his men. He took down a Bible from one of the birds, and went through the long-used religious service. The dreary place was less dreary, and their burdened hearts were no doubt made lighter, but thus throwing near to God. The commander and Tom left the next day with the sledge-load, leaving Godfrey to come on after further rest. But Scarcely had the sledge-party delivered their load of bread, and begun the sound sleep, which follows hard work. When Godfrey came in, out of breath, was the hot haste of his journey. He reluctantly confessed the occasion of his sudden departure from the brig. He had lain down on the contents of the mattresses to sleep. Suddenly Wilson's guitar, left with other mementos of two winter's imprisonment, sent forth music, soft and sad. Bill was sure he heard a rite, for he was awake and in his right mind. He fled on the instant, and Scarcely looked behind until he reached his companions. He had never heard of the musical genius of Aeolus, and it was not strange that the old, forsaken, mutilated, ghostly-looking brig should excite the imagination of the lonely lodger. The invalids of the huts were now doing well, their housekeeping assumed a home-like appearance after the fashion of arctic homes, and they welcomed the doctor of the dish of tea, a lump of walrus flesh, and a warm place. The brooks' party were not afar off. A storm, which out-stormed all they had yet seen or felt of storms, came down upon our explorers at this time. When the storm had blown past, Morton was dispatched to Itach with the dogs, accompanied by two Itachites who had been stormbound with the boat parties. His mission was to demand aid of these allies on the ground of sacred treaty stipulations, and well-recognized eschema laws of mutual help. Dr. Cain took his place with the men on the flow. Sledging was now not only made by the storm and advancing seas and more laborious, but very dangerous. Around the bergs, black water appeared, and over many places there were to be seen pools of water. The boats were unladen, and their cargoes carried in parcels by sledges, yet serious accidents occurred. At one time a runner of the sledge carrying the hope broke in, and the boat came near being lost, as it was six men were plunged into the water. Sick and well men worked for dear life, and the fares were growing more than cloudy, when the helping hand of the great helper was seen, as it had been so often. Morton returned from Itach, having been entirely successful in his appeal to the natives for aid. They came with every sound dog they possessed, and with sledges loaded with walrus. The dogs alone were equal to ten strong men added to the expedition. Dr. Cain took one of the teams, and with Metic made his last trip to the brig, and on his return commenced bringing down the invalids of the hut to the boats. As he came near the flow party, he found Olsen sitting on a lump of ice alone, some distant in the rear. He had prevented the hope's sledge from breaking through the ice, by taking for a moment its whole weight on a bar which he had slipped under it. He was a strong man, and the act was heroic, but he was evidently seriously injured. He was pale, but thought his only difficulty was a little cramp in the small of his back, and that he should be better soon. Dr. Cain gave him Stephenson's seat on the sledge, carried him to the boat, and gave him its most comfortable place, and muffled him up in the best buffalo robes. Dr. Hayes gave him tender and constant attention all that night, but he declined rapidly. Having stowed the sick away in the boats, the mourning prayers being offered, the men on the 6th of June started anew at the drag ropes. Two hours drawing sufficed to show all hands their insufficiency for the task. Just then a spanking breeze started up. They hoisted the sails of the boats, and the wind increased to a gale, and blew directly after them. Away is a sledge's sped towards a provision depot near Littleton Island. Ridges in the ice which would have delayed them at the drag ropes for hours, but they gave them the rise and fall as they glided over them of a ship on the waves. God, who holds the wind in his fist, had unloosened it for their benefit. The food soared weary men, who a few moments ago felt that an almost impossible task was theirs, were now jubilant, and broke out into song, the first sailor's chorus song they had sung for a year. They came to a halt at five o'clock p.m., having made under sail the a distance of five drag rope days. While here they were joined by old Nessarc and by Sipsul, the surly chief, who appeared so conspiciously in the narrative of Dr. Hayes' escaping party. They came with their fresh dog teams and offered their services to the explorers. Nessarc was sent after the last of the sick men at the hut. The following five or six days were those of peril and discouragement. At one time a sledge had broken in, carrying with it several of the men, bringing affairs to a gloomy crisis. But the men scrambled out, and to still further lift the burdens from the party, five sturdy Eskimo appeared, with two almost equally strong women. They laid hold of the drag ropes with a will, and worked the rest of the day without demanding any reward. So there was always help in the time of need. Nessarc came in good time with Wilson on Whipple, the last of the sick the old hut was now deserted, and all were with the boats except one. Hunts had been missing for nearly two months. Early in April he came to his commander with a long face and a very plausible story. He had, he said, no boots. He wanted to go to one of the Eskimo settlements a little south to get a stock of walrus hides. He did not want the dogs, he would walk, and be back in good time. But the hitherto faithful and trusted Hunts had not returned. When inquiry was made of the people of Itach, they said he certainly called there and engaged of one of the women a pair of boots, and then pushed on to Petarevik, where Shanghi and his pretty daughter lived. The last information they had of him, they gave with a shrug of the shoulders and a merry twinkle of the eye. He had been seen by one of their people once since he left Itach. He was then upon a native sledge, Shanghi's daughter at his side, bound south of Petarevik. He had forsaken the explorers for a wife. The party were one day feeling their way along cautiously, pioneers going ahead and trying the soundness of the ice by something with boat hooks and narwhal horns. Suddenly, a shout of distress was heard. The red Eric was broken in. She contained the document box of the expedition, the loss of which would make their whole work profitless to the world, even should the party be saved. She had on board too many provision bags. But after great exposure and labour, all was saved in good condition, and the boat holed up on the ice. Several of the men had narrow escapes. Stephenson was caught as he sunk by the sledge-runner, and Morton was drawn out by the hair of his head, as he was disappearing under the ice. A grateful shout went up from all hands, that nothing serious resulted from the accident. End of Chapter 23 The company made slow and tiresome progress by Little Thon Island, and were carrying their entire load forward in parcels to the mainland, at the northern opening of Itach Bay, when the sad news was whispered to Dr. Cain, who was with the advanced party, that Olsen was dead. A gloom spread over the whole company. The fact was carefully concealed from the Eskimo, who were sent to Itach under the pretext of bringing back a supply of birds, the entire dog force being given them to hasten their departure. The funeral service, though attended by sincere grief, was necessarily brief. The body was sewed up in Olsen's own blankets, the burial service read, the prayer offered, and it was borne by his comrades in solemn procession to a little gorge on the shore, and deposited in a trench made with extreme difficulty. A sheet of lead, on which his name and age was cut, was laid upon his breast, a monument of stones was erected over it, to preserve it from the beasts of prey, and to mark the spot. They named the land which overshadowed the spot Cape Olsen. Having given two quiet hours after the funeral service to the solemn occasion, the work at the drag ropes was continued. The Eskimo returned in full force, and with abundant provisions. They took their turn at the drag ropes with a shout. They carried the sick on their sledges, and relieved the whole expedition from care concerning their supplies. They brought in one week, eight dozen seafowl, little oaks, caught in their hand nets, and fed men and dogs. All eight, hunger was fully satisfied, care for the time departed, the men broke out into their old four-castle songs, and the sledges went merrily forward with love and jest. Passing round Cape Alexander, down Itach Bay, a short distance towards the settlement, the expedition encamped. The long salt coveted open water was only three miles away, its roar saluted their ears, and its scent cheered their hearts. The difficult and delicate work of preparing the boats for the sea voyage now commenced. In the meantime, the people of Itach, men, women, and children, came and encamped in their midst, leaving only three persons, two old women, and a blind old man, in the settlement. They slept in the red Eric and fed on this stew cooked for them in the big camp kettle. Each one had a keepsake of a file, a knife, a saw, or some such article of great value. The children had each that great medicine for Eskimo sickness, a piece of soap, for which they merrily shouted, thank you, thank you, big chief. There was joy in the Eskimo camp, which knew but one sorrow, that of the speedy departure of the strangers. At the mention of this, one woman stepped behind a tent screen and wept, wiping her teary face with a bird skin. Dr. Cain rode to Itach to bid the aged invalids good-bye. Then came the last distribution of presents. Everyone had something, but the great gift of amputating knives went to the chief, Metek, and the patriarch, Nessark. The dogs were given to the community at large, excepting Todlomik and Whitey. These veterans of many well fought battlefields were reserved to share the homeward fortunes as their owners. Todlomik was no common dog, but earned for himself a place in dog history. As we are to meet the dogs no more in our narrative, we will give Todlomik's portrait to be set up with our pen sketches. He was purchased at Upernavik, and so he received the advantages of, at least, a partially civilized education. His head was more compact, his nose less pointed than most dogs of his kind, and his eye denoted affection and self-reliance, and his carriage was bold and defiant. Todla, at the commencement of the cruise, appointed himself general-in-chief of all the dogs. Now it often happens, with dogs as well as with men, that to assume superiority is much easier than to maintain it. But Todla's generalship was never successfully disputed. The position, however, cost him many a hard-fought battle, for the newcomers naturally desired to test his title to rule. These he soundly whipped on their introduction to the pack. He even often left the brig's side, head erect, tail gracefully curled over his back, and moved toward a stranger dog with a proud, defiant air, as much as to say, I muster here, sir. If this was doubted, he vindicate his boasting on the spot. Such tyranny excited rebellions, of course, and strong combinations were formed against him. But dogs which had been trounced individually make weak organizations, and the coalitions gave way before Todla's prowess. It is but fair, however, to say that he had strong allies upon whom he fell back in great emergencies, the sailors. Todla died in Philadelphia and still lives, that is, his stuffed skin still exists in the Museum, of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences. His reputation is of the same sort as that of many of the heroes of history, and worth as much to the world. Dr. Cain having distributed the presents and disposed of the dogs, there was nothing now but the farewell address to render the parting ceremony complete. Dr. Cain called the natives about him and spoke to them through Peterson as interpreter. He talked to them as those from whom kindness had been received, and to whom a return was to be made. He told them about the tribes of their countrymen farther south, whom he knew, and from whom they were separated by the glaciers and the sea. He spoke of the longer daylight, the less-called, the more abundant game, the driftwood, the fishing nets, and kayaks of these relatives. He tried to explain to them that under bold and cautious guidance they might, in the course of a season or two, reach this happier region. During this talk they crowded closer and closer to the speaker, and listened with breathless attention to his remarks, often looking at each other significantly. Having thus parted with the natives, our exploring party hauled their boats to the margin of the ice. Their red Eric was lounged, and three cheers were given, for Henry Grinnell and Homeward Bound. But the storm king said, not yet. He sounded an alarm in their ears, and they drew the Eric from the water and retreated on the flow, which broke up in their rear with great rapidity. Back, back they tramped virally and painfully all that night, until the next day they found a sheltering berg near the land, where they made a halt. Here they rested until the wind had spent its wrath, and the sea had settled into a placid quiet. Their voyaging on the flow with drag ropes and sledges was ended. End of Chapter 24 On the 19th of June the boats were launched into the sea, now calm. The face leading under Cain, and the Eric under Bonsal, and the Hope under Brooks following. The seabirds screamed a welcome to the squadron, and flew about them as if to inquire why they came back in three vessels instead of one, as when they sailed northward two years before. But there was no leisure to for converse with birds. They had just passed Haakluyt Island, when the Eric sunk. Her crew, Bonsal, Riley and Gottfrey, struggled to the other boats, and the faith took the sunken craft in tow. Soon after Brooks shouted that the Hope was leaking badly and threatening to sink. Fortunately the flow was not far off, and into one of its creek-like openings they ran the boats, fastened them to the ice, and the weary men laid down in their bunks, without drawing the boats from the water and slept. The next day they drew their leaking crafts ashore, and caulked them for another sea adventure. For several days they struggled with varying fortunes, until they brought up, weary, disheartened and worn down by work, and an insufficient diet of bread dust, and fastened to an old flow near the land. Scarcely were they anchored when a vast ice raft caught upon a tongue of the solid flow, about a mile to the seabird of them, and began to swing round upon it as a pivot, and to close in upon our explorers. This was a new game of the ice enemy. Nearer and nearer came the revolving icy platform, seeming to gather force with every whirl. At first the commotion that was made started the flow, to which they were fastened, on a run towards ashore, as if to escape the danger. But it soon brought up against the rocks and was overtaken by its pursuer. In an instant the collision came. The men sprang by force of discipline to the boats and the stores, to bear them back to a place of safety. But wild and far-spread ruin was around them. The whole platform where they stood crumbled and crushed under the pressure, and was tossed about and piled up, as if the ice demon was in a frenzy of passion. Escape for the boats seemed for the moment impossible and none expected it, and none could tell when they were let down into the water nor hardly how. Yet they found themselves whirling in the midst of the broken hammocks, now raised up and then shaken, as if every joint in the helpless trembling boats was to be dislocated. The noise would have drowned their upper ore of contending armies, as ice was hurled against ice, and as it felt the awful pressure it groaned harsh and terrific thunder. The men, though utterly powerless, grasped their boat hooks as the boats were borne away in the tumultuous mass of broken ice and hurried on towards the shore. Slowly the tumult began to subside, and the fragments took their way, until the almost bewildered men found themselves in a stretch of water making into the land wide enough to enable them to row. They came against the wall of the ice foot and grappling it, waited for the rising tide to lift them to its top. While here the storm was fearful, banking the boats against the ice ball and surging the waves into them, thus keeping the imperiled men at work for dear life, in bailing out the water. They were at last lifted by the tide to the ice foot upon which they pulled their boats, all uniting on each boat. They had landed on the cliff at the mouth of a gorge in the rock, into this they dragged the boats, keeping them square on their keels. A sudden turn in the cave placed a wall between them and the storm, which was now raging furiously. While they were drawing in the last boat, a flock of iderducks gladdened their hearts, as they flew swiftly past. God had not only guided them to a sheltered haven, but had assured them of abundant food on the morrow. They were in the breeding home of the seafowl. Thus comforted they lay down to sleep, though wet and hungry. They named their providential harbor the weary man's rest, and remained in it three days, eating, until hunger was appeased, and gathering eggs at the rate of twelve hundred a day, and laughing at the storms which roared without. On the Fourth of July, after as much of a patriotic celebration as their circumstances allowed, they again launched into the sea. For some days they moved slowly thus, but it was only by picking their way through the leeds, for they found the sea nearly closed. As they approached Cape Dudley Digges their way was entirely closed. They pushed into an opening that led to the bottom of its precipitous cliff. Here they found a rocky shelf, overshadowed by the towering rocks, just large enough, and in the right position and high tide to make a platform on which they could land their boats. Here they waited a whole week for the ice toward Cape York to give away. The seafowl were abundant, and of a choice kind. The scurvy killing Cochlearia was at hand, which they ate with their eggs. It was indeed a providential halt, for the fact was constantly forced upon them, that they had come here as they had to wear immense rest, by no skill or knowledge of their own. It was the eighteenth of July, before the condition of the ice was such, as to make the renewal of their voyage possible. Two hundred and fifty choice foals had been skinned, cut open and dried on the rocks, besides a store of those thrown aboard as they were caught. They now sailed along the coast, passing the crimson cliffs of Surgeon Ross. The birds were abundant, their halting places on the shore were closed with green, and the freshwater streams at which they filled their vessels, were pouring down from the glaciers. They built great blazing fires of dry turf, which cost nothing but the gathering. After days hard rowing, the sportsmen brought in fresh fowl, and gathered about their campfire, all eight, and then stretched themselves on the moss carpet and slept. They enjoyed thankfully this arctic Eden, all the more, as they all knew that perils and privations were just before them. They wisely provided during these favored days a large stock of provisions, amounting to six hundred and forty pounds, besides their dried birds. Turf fuel too was taken on board for the fires. They reached Cape York on the 21st of July. From this place, they were to try the dangers of Melville Bay, across which in their frail boats must say sail. It had smiled upon their northward voyage, who did favor their escape now. It certainly did not hold out to them flattering promises. The inshore ice was solid yet, and terribly hammocky. They open sea was far to the west, but along the margin of the flow were leads. Unfortunately there was one beginning where they had halted. The boats were holed up, examined, and as much as possible repaired. The red Eric was stripped, her cargo taken out, and her hull held in reserve for fuel. A beacon was erected from which a red flannel skirt was thrown as a pendant to the wind to attract attention. Under this beacon records were left, which told in brief the story of the expedition. This done, and the blessing of God implored, the voyagers entered the narrow opening in the ice. For a while all went well, but one evening Dr. Cain was hastily caught on deck. The huge icebergs had bewildered the helmsman in the leading boat, and he had missed the channel, and had turned directly towards the shore, until the boat was stopped by the solid flow. The lead through which they had come had closed in the rear, and they were completely entangled in the ice. Without telling the men what had happened, the commander, under the pretense of drying the clothes, ordered the boats drawn up, and a camp was made on the ice. In the morning, Cain and McGarry climbed a berg some 300 feet high. They were appalled by their situation. The water was far away, and huge bergs and ugly hammocks intervened. McGarry and the old whalemen, familiar from early manhood with the hardships of Arctic voyaging, wept at the sight. There was but one way out of this entanglement. The sledges must be taken from the sides of the boats, where they had been hung for such emergencies. The boats placed on them, and the old drag rope practice must be tried, until the expedition reached the edge of the flow. One sledge, that which bore the red Eric, had been used for fuel, so the red Eric itself was knocked to pieces, and stowed away for the same use. About three days were consumed in the toiling before they reached the lead, which they had left, launched once more into waters, and sailed away before a fine breeze. Thus far, the boats had kept along the outer edge of the flow, following the openings through the ice. But as this was slow work, though much safer, they now ventured a while in the open sea farther west. But they were driven back to the flow by heavy fogs, and on trying to get the boats into a lead, one of those incidents occurred, so often noticed, in which God's hand was clearly seen. All hands were drawing up the hope, and she had just reached the resting place on the flow, when the faith, their best boat, with all their stores on board, went adrift. The sight produced an almost panic sensation among the men. The hope could not possibly be launched in time to overtake her, for she was drifting rapidly. But before they could collect their thoughts to devise the means of her rescue, a cake of ice swung round, touched the flow where they stood, reaching at the same time nearly to the faith, thus bridging over the chasm. Instantly Cain and Mgarry sprung upon it, and from it into the skyping boat, she was saved. Matters were getting into serious condition. The delays had been so many, that the stock of birds had been eaten, and the med had been for several days on short allowance, which showed itself in their failing strength. They were far out to sea, midway of the Melville Bay navigation, and the boats were receiving a rough handling, and requiring continual bailing to keep them from sinking. It was just at this crisis that the ever-timely aid came. A large seal was seen floating upon a small patch of ice, seeming to be asleep. A signal was given for the hope to fall astern, while the faith approached noiselessly upon him, with stockings drawn over the oars. Peterson lay in the bow with a large English rifle, and as they drew near, the men were so excited that they could scarcely row. The safety of the whole company seemed staked upon the capture of that seal. When within three hundred yards, the oars were taken in, and the boat moved silently on by a skull oar at the stern. The seal was not asleep, for when just beyond the reach of the ball he raised his head. The thin, care-worn, almost despairing faces of the men showed their deep concern as he appeared about to make his escape. Dr. Cain gave the signal to fire, but poor Peterson, almost paralyzed by anxiety, was trying nervously to get a rest for his gun on the edge of the bow. The seal rose on his foreflipper, looked curiously around, and coiled himself up for a plunge. The rifle cracked at the instant, and the seal at the same moment drooped his head on side, and stretched his full length on the ice at the brink of his hole. With a frantic yell the men urged the boats to the flow, seized the seal and bore him to a safer place. They brandished their knives, cut long strips of the seal, and went dancing about the flow, eating and sucking their bloody fingers in wild delight. The seal was large and fat, but not an ounce of him was wasted. A fire was built that night on the flow, and the joyous feast went on until hunger was appeased. They had driven away its gnawings, and happily it returned no more. On the first of August they had passed the terrible bay, and sighted land on its southern side. Familiar landmarks of the whalers came in sight. They passed the duck islands and Cape Shackleton, and coasted along by the hills, seeking a co in which to land. One was soon found. The boats drawn up, a little time spent in thanksgiving and congratulations, and then they lay down on the dry land and slept. They continued to coast near the shore, dodging about among the islands, and dropping into the bays and landing for rest at night. It was at one of these sleeping halts on the rocks that Peterson saw one of the natives, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance. He was in his kayak, seeking either down among the rocks. Peterson hailed him, but the man played shy. Paul Zaharia shouted Peterson, Don't you know me? I'm Carl Peterson. No, replied the man. His wife says he's dead. The natives stared at the weather-beaten, long-bearded man for a moment, as he loomed up through the fog, and then turned the bow of his boat and paddled away, as if a phantom was pursuing him. Two days after this, the explorers were rowing leisurely along in a fog, which had just began to lift, and dimly revealed the objects on shore. At this moment a familiar sound came to them over the water. It was the huck of the Eskimo, for which they had often taken the bark of a fox, or the startling screech of the gulls. But this huck-huck died away in the home-thrilling hello. Listen, Peterson, what is it? Peterson listened quietly for a moment, and then, trembling with emotion said, in an undertone, Donny Markers. Then the whole company stood up and peered into the distant nooks, in breathless silence to catch the sound again. The sound came again, and all was a moment silent. It was the first Christian voice they had heard, beyond their own party, for two years. But they saw nothing. Was it not a cheat, after all, of their nervous, excited feelings? The men sat down again, and bent to their oars, and their boats swept in for the cape, from which the sound proceeded. They scanned narrowly every nook and green spot, where the strangers might be found. A full half-hour passed in this exciting search. At last the single mast of a small shellop was seen. Peterson, who had kept himself during the search very still and sober, burst in a fit of crying, relieved by broken exclamations of English and Danish, gulping down his wards at intervals, and bringing his hands all the while. This the opernoic oil boat, the Marianne has come, and Carly Mossen. Peterson had hit the facts. The annual ship Marianne had arrived at Proen, and Carly Mossen had come up to get the year's supply of blubber from King-o-talk. Here our explorers listened while Carly, in answer to their questions, gave them a hint of what had been going on in the civilized world during their long absence. The Crimean war had been begun, and was in bloody progress, but Sebastopol wasn't taken. Where and what is Sebastopol, they queried. But what of America? Carly didn't know much about that country, for no whale ships were on the coast, but said, a steamer and a bark passed up a fortnight ago seeking your party. What of Sir John Franklin the next inquired? Carly said the priest had a German newspaper which said traces of his boats and dead had been found. Yes, found a thousand miles away from the region where our explorers had been looking for them. One more row into the fog, and one more halting on the rocks. They all washed clean in the fresh water of the basins, and brushed up their ragged furs and woolens. The next morning they neared the settlement of Upernavik, of which Peterson had been foreman, and they heard the yelling of the dogs, as its snowy hilltop showed itself through the mist, and the tolling of the workman's bells calling them to their daily labor came as sweet music to their ears. They rode into the big harbour, landed by an old brew house, and held their boats up for the last time. A crowd of merry children came round them with cheerful faces and curious eyes. In the crowd were the wife and children of Peterson. Our explorers were safe, their perils were over. Having lived in the open air for eighty-four days, they felt a sense of suffocation within the walls of a house. But divided among many kind hospitable homes, they drank their coffee and listened to hymns of welcome sung by many voices. The people of Upernavik fitted up aloft for the reception, as the wayfarers, and showed them great kindness. They remained until the 6th of September, and then embarked on the Danish vessel Marianne, whose captain was to leave them at the nearest English port on his way to Denmark. The boat Faith was taken on board as a relic of their perilous adventure, the document box containing their precious records, and the furs on their backs. These were all that were saved of the heroic brig advance. The Marianne made a short stay at Godhain. The searching company under Captain Harstony had left there for the icy north, one the 21st of July, since which nothing was known of them. The Marianne was on the eve of leaving with our explorers, when the lookout shouted from the hilltop that a steamer was in the distance. It drew near with a barking tow, both flying the stars and stripes. The faith was lowered for the last time, and with brooks at the helm, Dr. Cain went out to meet them. As they came alongside Captain Harzstein, hailed, is that Dr. Cain? Yes. Instantly the men sprung into the rigging and gave cheers of welcome, and the whole country, on the arrival of the long lost explorers, repeated the glad shout of welcome that the Christian world echoed. Welcome. Chapter 27 of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Maj. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 27. Off again. Dr. Cain's party came home, as we have seen, in the fall of 1855. Dr. Hayes, with whom we have become acquainted, as one of that number, began immediately to present the desirableness of further exploration, in the same direction, to the scientific men of the country, and to the public generally. His object was to sail to the west side of Smith Sound, instead of the east, as in The Last Voyage, and to gather additional facts concerning the currents, the aurora, the glaciers, the directions and intensity of the magnetic force, and so to aid in settling many interesting scientific questions. He aimed also, of course, to further peer into the mysteries of the open polar sea. These efforts resulted in the fitting out for this purpose, in the summer of 1860, the schooner United States, and the appointment of Dr. Hayes as commander. She left Boston July 6, manned by 14 persons all told. The vessel was small, but made for arctic warfare, and as she turned her proud North Poleward, she bore a defiant spirit, and like all inexperienced warriors, reckoned the victory already hers. But if the vessel was green, her commander was not. He was well able to help her in the coming battle with ice berks and flows. Among her men were only two, besides the doctor, who had seen arctic service, one of whom was Professor August Sontag, who had been of Cain's party, and had also been of the number, who accompanied Dr. Hayes in the attempt to escape. Of the rest of the crew were two young men, nearly of an age about 18, who are represented as joining the expedition, because they would, and in love of adventure. Their names were George F. Norr, Commander's clerk, and Collins C. Starr. Both pressed their desire to go upon Dr. Hayes, and Starr told him that he would go in any capacity. The commander told him he might go in the forecastle with the common sailors. On the next day, to the surprise of the doctor, he found him on board, manfully at work with the roughest of the men, having doffed his silk hat, fine-grown cloth, and shining boots of the elegant young man of the day before. The commander was so pleased with his spirit that he promoted him on the spot, sending him off to be sailing masters-mate. In a little less than four weeks of prosperous sailing, the United States was at the Danish port of Proven, Greenland. It was the intention of the commander to get the supply here of the indispensable dog-teens. But disease had raged among them, and none could be bought. The vessel was delayed in order that the chief trader, Mr. Hansen, who was daily expected from Upernavik, might be consulted in the matter. When he arrived, he gave a gloomy account of the dog market, but kindly gave the expedition his own teams. The couriers which had been sent out to scour the country for others returned with four old dogs and a less number of good ones. On the evening of the 12th of August, the explorers arrived at Upernavik. The Danish brig Thayalfi lay at anchor in the harbour, about to sail for Copenhagen, with a cargo of skins and oil. So the first letters to the dear ones at home were hastily written to send by her. They bore sad news to at least one family circle. Mr. Gibson Carruthor retired his berth well on the evening of their arrival, and in the morning was found dead. He had escaped the perils of the first Grinnell expedition under Captain Dehaven. To die thus suddenly, ere those of his second voyage had begun. He was beloved, able and intelligent, and his death was a great loss to the enterprise. His companions laid him away in the mission burial ground, the missionary Mr. Anton officiating. Before leaving Upernavik, Dr. Hayes secured the services of an Eskimo interpreter, one Peter Jensen, who brought on board with him one of the best dog teams of the country. And soon after he came, two more Eskimo hunters and dog drivers were enlisted, and a still better addition to expedition were two Danish sailors, one of whom is our old friend, whom we left here some five years ago, rejoicing in reunion with wife and children, Carl Christian Pettersen. Pettersen enlisted as carpenter as well as sailor. With these six persons added to her company, making it 20 in all, the United States left Upernavik to enter upon the earnest work of the expedition. The settlement had scarcely faded in the distance, when the icebergs were seen marshalling their forces to give the little voyager battle. A long line of them was formed just across her course, some more than 200 feet high and a mile long. They were numberless, and at a distance seemed to make a solid jagged ice wall. When the schooner was fairly in among them, the sunlight was shut out, as it is from the traveler in a dense forest. She felt the wind in a cat's paw now and then, and so the helm lost its control of her, and she went banging against first one berg and then another. The bergs themselves minded not the little breeze which was blowing, but swept majestically along by its undercurrent. The navigators were kept on the alert to keep the vessel from fatal collision with its huge, cold, defiant enemies, as the surface current drew it helplessly on board. Sometimes, as they approached one, the boats were lowered and the vessel was towed away from danger. At another crisis, as it neared one berg, an anchor was planted in another in an opposite direction, and she was warped into a place of security. Occasionally they tied up to a berg and waited for a chance for progress. While dust be set with dangers, there were occasions of some pleasant excitement. The birds were abundant and of many varieties, affording sport for the hunters and fresh food for the table. The seals sported in the clear water and were shot for the larder of the dogs, and Dr. Hayes and Professor Sontag found employment with their scientific instruments. Such had been the state of things for four days, when one morning the vessel was born towards a large berg of a kind the sailors called Tajminats. It was an old Voyager, whose jagged sides, high towers, deep alleys and swelling hills showed that time the sun and the tides had laid their hands upon it. Such bergs are about as good neighbors as an avalanche on a mountainside, just ready for a run into the valley below. Warps and towboats, instantly invigorously used, failed to stop the schooner's headway. She touched the berg, and down-dropped fragments of it larger than the vessel, followed by a shower of smaller pieces, but they went clear of the vessel. Now the berg began to revolve, turning towards explorers, and as its towering sides settled slowly over them, fragments poured upon the deck, a fearful hailstore. There was no safety for the men except in the forecastle, and there appeared to be no escape for the schooner. But just in time an immense section of the base of the berg, which seemed to be far below the waterline, broke off, and rose to the surface with a sudden rush, which threw the sea into violent commotion. The balance of the berg was changed, it paused, and then began, slowly at first but with increasing rapidity, to turn in the opposite direction. If this was intended as a retreat of the bergy foe, it defended well its rear. At its base, from which the piece had just been broken, was an icy projection towards the vessel. As the berg revolved, this tongue came up and struck the keel. It seemed intent upon tossing the vessel into the air, or rolling her over and leaving her bottom side up upon the sea. The men seized their poles, and pushed vigorously to launch the vessel from the perilous position, but in vain. Just in time again, the unseen hand interfered for their deliverance. Defining reports, like a park of artillery, saluted their ears, and a misty smoke arose above the berg. Its opposite side was breaking up, and launching its towering peaks into the sea. The berg paused again and began to roll back, and thus for the moment released the vessel. The boat head in the meantime fastened an anchor in a grounded berg, and the welcome shout came, hall in. Steadily and with a will the men drew upon the rope, and the vessel moved slowly from the scene of danger. Not, however, before returning top of the berg had launched upon her deck a shower of ice fragments, in fearful assurance that its whole side would soon follow and bury them, as the shepherd's hut is buried by a mountain slide. A few moments later, and the sight came down with a tremendous crash, sending its spray over the escaped vessel, and tossing it, as the driftwood is tossed in the eddies beneath the waterfall. All that day the roar of the icy cannon was continued, as if a naval battle was in progress for the Empire of the North, and berg after berg went down, strewing the sea with their shattered fragments, while misty clouds floated over the field of conflict. Chapter 28 Colliding Flows After this ice encounter, the expedition put into a little port called Thessui-Sag to complete their outfit of dogs. An impatient terry of two days enabled them to count, on the deck of the little vessel, thirty first-class howling dogs, whose amiable tempers found expression in biting each other, and making both day and night hideous with their noise. This port was left on the 23rd of August, and much to the joy of all, the dreaded Melville Bay was clear of the ice pack. The icebergs, however, kept their watch over its storm-tossed waters. Through these waters, driven before a fierce wind, and buried often in a fog, so dense that the length of the vessel could not be seen, the United States sped. Its anxious commander was on deck night and day, not knowing the moment when an icy wall, as fatal to the vessel as one of Granite, might arrest its course, and send it instantly to the bottom of the sea. Once, they passed so near a berg, just crossing their track, that the four-yard grazed its side, and the spray from its surf-beaten wall was thrown upon the deck. A berg at one time, hoe in sight, was an arch through it large enough for a passageway for the schooner. The explorers declined, however, the novel adventure. The passage of Melville Bay was made, with sails only, in fifty-five hours. The pack which had invariably troubled explorers seemed to have been enjoying a summer vacation, and the bergs were of duty. The expedition had reached the North Water and lay off Cape York. The ocean current, which sweeps past this Cape, and opens the way to the other side of Bethen Bay, is wonderful. It is the great polar current, which comes rushing down through Spitzburg and sea, along the eastern coast of Greenland, glade in with ice, and taking the waters of its rivers, with their freight of driftwood as it passes. Living most of the wood along its shore, a welcome gift to the people, it sweeps around Cape Farwell, courses near the western shore in its run north, until it has passed Melville Bay. When it has crossed outward to the American shore near Jones Strait, it joins the current from the Arctic Sea, turns south, and makes a long journey until it reaches our own coast, dropping its ice freight as it goes, and sending its cooling air through the heat-opressed atmosphere of our summer. As our explorers approached the shore of Cape York, they looked carefully for the natives. Soon a company of guests came over, seeing, making their wild justiculations to attract attention. A boat was lowered, and Dr. Hayes and Professor Sontag went ashore, and as they approached the landing place, one of the Eskimo called them by name. It was our old friend Hans of the Cane Voyage, who, the reader will recollect, left his white friends for an Eskimo wife. The group consisted, besides Hans, of his wife and baby, his wife's mother, an old woman having marked talking ability, and her son, a bright-eyed boy of twelve years. Hans had found his self-imposed banishment among the savages of this extreme north rather tedious. He had removed his family to this lookout for the whale ships, and had watched and waited. It was the dreariest of places, and his hut, pitched on a bleak spot, the better to command a view of the sea, was the most miserable of abodes. It had plainly cost him dear to break his face, with his confiding commander and the friends of his early Christian home. Dr. Hayes asked Hans if he would go with the expedition. He answered promptly, Yes. Would you take your wife and baby? Yes. Would you go without them? Yes. He was taken on board with his wife and baby. The mother and her boy cried to go, but the squander was already overcrowded. Leaving Cape York, the vessel spread her sails before a ten-knot breeze, and dodging the icebergs with something of a reckless daring, seemed bent on reaching the polar sea before winter sat in. At one time, what appeared to be two icebergs a short distance apart, lay in the course of the vessel. The helmsman was ordered to steer between them, for to go round involved quite a circuit. On dashed the brave little craft for the narrow passage. When she was almost abreast of them, the officer on the lookout shuddered to see that the seeming bergs were but one, and that the connecting ice appeared to be only a few feet below the surface. It was too late to stop the headway of the vessel, or to turn her to the right or left. She rushed onward, but the water of the opening proved to be deeper than it appeared, and her keel but touched once or twice, just to show how narrow was the escape. Hans was delighted with his return to ship life. His wife seemed pleased and half bewildered by the strange surroundings. The baby crowed, laughed, and cried, and ate and slept, like other babies. The sailors put the newcomers through a soap and water ordeal, to which was added the use of scissors and combs. Eskimo do not bathe, nor practice the arts of the barber, and consequently they keep numerous borders on their persons. When this necessary cleansing and cropping was done, they donned red shirts and other luxuries of civilization. With the new dresses they were delighted, and they were never tired of strutting about in them. But the soap and water was not so agreeable. At first it was taken as a rough joke, but the wife soon began to cry. She inquired of her husband if it was a religious ceremony of the white man. The vessel made good time, until she came within three miles of Cape Alexander. It was now August 28th, and so it was time these arctic regions should begin to show their peculiar temper. A storm came down upon them, pouring the vials of its rust upon the shivering vessel for about three days. During a lull in the storm, the schooner was hauled under the shelter of the highlands of Cape Alexander and anchored. She rocked and plunged fearfully. At one time, when these gymnastics were going on, the old Swedish cook came to the commander in the cabin with refreshments. But he was hardly able to keep his sea legs. He remarks as he comes in. I fall down once, but the commander sees I keep the coffee. It's good and hot, and very strong, and go right down into the boots. Bad night on deck, cook remarks the captain. Oh, it's awful, sir. I never see it blow so hard in all my life, and I swallowed the sea more than 40 years. And then it's so cold, my galley is full of ice and the water it frees on my stove. Here, cook, is a currency for you. It will keep you warm. Thank you, sir, says the cook, starting off with his prize. But encouraged by the kind peering of his captain, he stops and asks, would the commander be so kind as to tell me where we is? The gentleman fool me. Certainly, cook, the land over there is Greenland, the big cape is Cape Alexander, beyond that is Smith Sound, and we're only about 800 miles from the North Pole. The North Pole, where's that? The commander explains as well as he can. Thank you, sir. What for we come to fish? No, not to fish, cook, for science. Oh, that it. They tell me we come to fish. Thank you, sir. The old cook pulls his greasy cap over his bald head and thinks. Science, the North Pole. He don't get the meaning of these through his cap, and he tumbles up the companion ladder, and goes to the galley to enjoy his currency. Dr. Heis and Nor went ashore and climbed to the top of the cliffs, 1200 feet. The wind was fearfully breezy, and Nor's cap left and went sailing like a feather out to sea. The view was full of arctic grandeur, but not flattering to the storm-bound navigators. Ice was evidently king, a little farther north. Soon after the explorers returned to the vessel, the storm gathered fresh power, and the anchors began to drag. Soon one hawther parted, and away went the schooner with fearful velocity, and brought up against the berg. The crash was appalling, and the sternboat flew into splinters. The spars were either bent or carried away. And as they attempted to hoist the mainsail, it went to pieces. The crippled craft was with difficulty worked back into the projecting covert of Cape Alexander. Her decks were covered with ice, and the dogs were perishing with wet and cold, three having died. Having repaired damages as well as they could, they again pushed into the pack of Smith Sound, which lay between them an open water, visible far to the north. Entering a lead under full sail, they made good progress for a while. But suddenly a solid flow shot across the channel, and the vessel was full headway, struck it like a battering ram. The cut water flew into splinters, and the iron sheeting of the bows was torn off as if it had been paper. Pushing off from the flow, and passing through a narrow lead, they emerged into an area of open water. But the flow was on the alert. This began to close up, and taking a hint of foul play, the explorers steered towards the shore. But the ice battalions moved with celerity, piled up across the vessel's bow, and closed in on every side. In an hour they held her as in a vice, whilst the reserve force was called up to crush her to atoms. The foe was jubilant, for the power at his command was kindred to that of the earthquake. An ice field of millions of tons, moved by combined wind and current, rushed upon the solid ice field, which rested against the immuble rocks of the shore. Between these was this corner, less than an eggshell between her lighting, heavily laden freight trains. As the pressure came steadily, in well a short strength, she groaned and shrieked like a thing of conscious pain, writhing and twisting, as if striving to escape her pitiless adversary. Her deck timbers bowed, and the seams of the deck planks opened, while her sides seemed ready to yield. Thus far the closing forces were permitted to strike severely on the side of the helpless vessel, to show that they could crush her as rotten fruit is crushed in a strong man's hand. Then he, without whose permission no force in nature moves, and at whose ward they are instantly stayed, directed the flow under the strongly timbered bilge of the hull, and with a jerk which sent the men reeling about the deck, lifted the vessel out of the water. The flows now fought their battle out beneath her, as if they disdained, like the lion was the mouse in his paw, to crush so small a thing. Great ridges were piled up against her, and one underneath lived her high into the air. Eight hours she remained in this situation, while the lives of all on board, seen suspended on the slenderest thread, then came the yielding and breaking up of the flows. Once, at the commencing of the giving way, an ice prop of the bow suddenly yielded, led the forward end of the vessel down, while the stern was high in the air. But finally, the battered craft settled squarely into the water. She was leaking badly, and the pumps were kept moving with vigor. The rudder was split, and two of its bolts broken. The stern post started, and fragments of the cut water and keel were floating away. But strange to say, no essential injury was done. She was slowly navigated into Harststein or Itach Bay, where we have been so often, anchored safely, and repairs immediately commenced. End of Chapter 20A Chapter 29 of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Mudge This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 29 The Winter Home One more effort, after the repairs were finished, was made to push through the ice flow of Smith's Sound. This resulting in failure, it was plainly impossible to get farther north. The vessel was brought into Itach Bay again. A harbour found eight miles northeast of Cape Alexander, and eighty by the coast from the harbour of the advance, though only twenty in a straight line, and preparations were at once begun for winter. Peter, the Eskimo dog driver and hunts, were appointed a hunting party. Sontag, the astronomer, with three assistants, was mainly engaged in scientific observations and experiments. There was work for all the rest. Some were engaged in unloading the cargo, and lifting it by Derek to a terrace on the shore, far above the highest tide, where a storehouse was made for it. The hold of the schooner was cleared, scrubbed and whitewashed, a stove set up, and made a home for the sailors. The sails and yards were sent down. The upper deck roofed in, making a house eight feet high at the ridge, and six and a half at the sides. The crew moved into their new quarters on the first of October. The event was celebrated by a holiday dinner. There was joy on shipboard, thankful for escapes granted by the great protector, trustful for the future, and greatly encouraged by present blessings. None were unhappy. The hunters were very successful, bringing in every day game of the best kind, and in great abundance. A dozen reindeer were suspended from the shrouds and clusters of rabbits and foxes were hung in the rigging. Besides these, deposits of reindeer were made in various directions. The hard-working men ate heartily of their relishing fresh food, and laughed to scorn the scurvy. They called the place of their winter quarters Port Folk. When the flow became frozen, the sledges were put in readiness for the dog teams. The dogs, having been well fed, were in fine condition. Locks of ice were used to make a wall about the vessel. From the float to the deck, between which and her sides, the snow was crowded, making a solid defense against the cold. On the 15th of October, the sun bathed them for well for four months, and they anticipated the coming darkness under circumstances, certainly much better, that had been often granted to Arctic sojourners. As there was yet a long twilight, dog trips were very exhilarating. Dr. Hayes once rode behind his dogs 12 measured miles in an hour and one minute without a moment's halt. Sontag and the captain raced their teams, the captain beating as was becoming by four minutes. The dogs were made to know their masters, and knowledge quite necessary for the good of all. Jensen observed that one of his team was getting rebellious. You see that beast, he said. I take a piece out of his ear. The long lash unrolls, the sinewy snapper on its tip touches the tip of the dog's ear, and takes out a piece as neatly as a sharp knife would have done. The same day, Jensen's skill at dog driving was put to a severe test. A fox crossed their path, up went their tails curling over their backs, their short ears pricked forward, and away they went in full chase. In such a case, woe be to the driver, who cannot take a piece of flesh out of any dog in the team at each snap of his merciless whip. Jensen was usually master of such a situation, but it so happened that a strong wind blew directly in the face of the team, and carried the lash back before it reached its victim. Missing its terrible bite, the dogs became for a while unmanageable, and raced after the fox at full speed. To make matters worse, treacherous ice lay just ahead. The dogs were already on the heels of the fox, and about to make a meal of him, when Jensen regained full control of his whip. It stung severely. Now this one and then that. Their tails drooped, their ears drooped, and they paused and obeyed their master. But they were greatly provoked at the loss of the game, and at the harsh subjection, and with characteristic amiability, they commenced to snap at and bite each other. Jensen jumped from the sledge, and laid the whip stock on them, knocking them to the right and left, until, it is presumed, made very loving by the process. They went about their assigned business. Parties of the explorers were out nearly every day, hunting or pursuing their scientific inquiries. Norr, the secretary of the commander, was off with hunts. He had his adventure to talk about on his return. He wounded in the valley a reindeer, which hobbled on three legs up a steep hill. The young hunter followed, and getting within easy range, brought it down by a well-aimed shot. The deer, being in a line with Norr, came sliding down the hill, and knocking against him both went tumbling down together. Fortunately he carried no broken bones, but only bruises to the vessel as mementos of his deer hunt. Sontag on the same day had his perilous incident. He had climbed to the top of a glacier by cutting steps in the ice. Across the ice was a crack, bridged over with thin ice, but entirely concealed by it. Stepping on this, he broke through and fell into the chasm. Fortunately it was a narrow one, and the barometer which he carried, crossing the creek, broke the fall and probably saved his life. On what a slender thread hangs this mortal existence. During this sledging season Dr. Hayes visited the homes of our old acquaintance at Itach, which was only four miles from the schooner, but they were deserted. Near the huts was a splendid buck, busily engaged in pawing up and eating the moss, from under the snow. He seemed so unsuspecting, and was also honestly engaged that the doctor, though he had crept on the leeward side, was in easy range, was reluctant to fire. Twice he aimed, and twice dropped his gun from its level, bringing it to sight the third time he fired, and the ball went crashing through the noble animal. We hear nothing of compunction in eating him on the part of any on shipboard, and probably the pitying reader would have had none. Our old friend Hans does not appear so favorably in the present narrative as he did in that of Dr. Cain. His five years of chosen exile among his purely his and countrymen does not seem to have left many traces on his Christian education. Some allowance, however, must be made for a difference of estimate of his character by his former and present commander. In Dr. Hayes' judgment he is a type of the worst phase of the Eskimo character. Hans' domestic relations are represented as not of the most happy kind. His wife's name is Merkut, but is known to the sailors as Mrs. Hans. She passes for a beauty, as Eskimo beauty goes. Has a flush of red on rather a fair cheek when, exceptionally, she uses soap and water enough for it to be seen through the usual coating of dirt. Their baby, ten months old, bears the pleasant name of Pingasuk, pretty one. Hans has a household of his own. He pitched a tent when the schooner went into winter quarters, under the roof of the upper deck. The Eskimo Marcus and Jacob make a part of his family. Here, wrapped in their furs, where they choose to be, they huddle together, warm as fleece in a rug, though the temperature is seldom higher than about the freezing point. Little pretty one creeps out of the tent about the deck, having for covering only the ten months accumulation of grease and dirt, not unfrequently accompanied by its mother, who on such occasion is guiltless of costly array or much of any whatever. Hans' gentlemen lodgers were taken on board as dog drivers, but they seem to have been of no possible use except to give occasion for the merciless jokes of the sailors. Peter, chief dog manager, a converted Eskimo, brother to Jacob, gave his commander excellent satisfaction and stood high in his esteem. He was skillful, industrious and trustworthy, between him and Hans' an intense jealousy existed. Hans had, under Dr. Cain, no rival in his sphere. Peter was now at least a peer, and so the glory of his exaltation from Eskimo hot life was greatly eclipsed. His master even preferred Peter before him, but Professor Sontag Klang was a little of the daughter Cain's partiality, just a favorite of the former voyage. Hans had no reason, however, to complain of the consideration shown him by his chief. At one time he gave him to quiet his jealousy, a new suit of clothes, with the very reddest of flannel shirts. In these he appeared at the Sunday inspection and religious service, quite as elated at his personal adornment, though probably not more so, as the fine gents of our home Sabbath assemblies. End of Chapter 29. Chapter 30 of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Munch. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 30 Glaciers The glacier is one of the wonderful things of the northern regions. We will visit one with Dr. Hayes and on our return to the vessel, listen to some curious and interesting facts concerning it. Although there was no sunshine at the time of the first glacier excursion, the twilight was long and clear. It was October 21st. The run was made to the foot of the glacier from the vessel with the dogs in 40 minutes. It appeared here as a great ice wall, 100 feet high and a mile broad. The glacier is descending the valley extended in breadth, not quite to the slope of the hills, so it left between them and each of its sides a gorge. It is very curious that the ice should not lean against the hills as it slips along and thus fill up all the valley as water would. Our party first stopped and examined the front face of the glacier. It was nearly perpendicular but bulging out a little in the middle. It was worn in places by the summer streams which run over it and marred in other parts by the fall of great fragments into the valley below. While our visitors were gazing at it, a crystal block came down as an angry hint for them to stand from under. Visually heeding the warning, they turned up one of the gorges between the glacier side and the hill. Here was rough traveling and we should think dangerous too. There were strode along in their path ice fragments from the glacier on one side and rocks on earth which had slid down the hill on the other. If the glacier was as evil disposed as its children the icebergs, it might let loose some of its projecting crags on their heads. Finding a favorable place they began to cut steps in the side of the glacier in order to mount to its surface. Having reached the top they cautiously walked to the center of the icy stream, drove two stakes on a line in it and then two halfway between these and the sides of the glacier. They then measured the distance of these stakes from each other and sighted from their tops fixed objects on the hills. They purposed to come in the spring and examine the distance apart of the stakes and sight from them the fixed objects so as to determine how fast the frozen river was moving down the valley. Having set the stakes they scampered back to the vessel. After a little rest another journey to the glacier was made, this time without the dogs, the sledges having a light outfit being drawn by the men. These were young nor the sailor McDonald, Mr. Haywood, a landsman from the west, an amateur explorer, the Dane Peterson and the Eskimo Peter. When they arrived at the gorge the way was so rough that they were compelled to carry the sledge loads in parcels on their backs. It was rough work and they sought an early camp, but with the frowning ice cliffs on one side and hill crags on the other, both evil-minded in the use of their icy and rocky missiles and with also the uneven bed of rocks beneath them, no wonder they did not sleep. They were soon astir pushed farther up the gorge and finding a favorable place began to cut steps up the glacier. The first one who attempted to mount reached some distance, then slipped and in sliding down carried with him his companions who were following and the whole company were promiscuously tumbled into the gorge. The one going ahead had better luck the next trial carrying a rope by which the sledge was drawn up and all mounted in safety. They now started off up this ice river towards the great sea of ice from whence it flowed. The surface was at first rough and of course slightly descending towards its front edge. Dr. Hayes walked in advance of the sledge party carrying a pole over his head grasped by both hands, being fearful of the treacherous cracks hidden by their ice. Soon down he went into one but the pole reached across the chasm and he scrambled out. The depths of the chasm remained a mystery to this day. The ice grew smoother as they proceeded and they made about five miles, pitched their canvas tents, cooked with their lamp a good supper, made coffee, ate and drank like weary men, crept into their four sleeping bags and slept soundly, though the thermometer was about 15 degrees below zero. The next day they travelled 30 miles and came upon an even plain where the surface of the ice sea was covered with many feet of snow, the crust of which broke through at every step. This made very hard travelling, yet the following day they tremped 25 miles more. Now came the ever attend Arctic storm. They camped, but lower and lower felt the temperature and fiercer and fiercer blew the wind. They could not sleep, so they decided to turn their faces homeward. The frost nipped their fingers and assailed their faces as they hastily packed up and started. They were 5,000 feet above the level of the sea and 70 miles from the coast and were standing in the midst of a vast icy desert. There was neither mountain nor hill in sight. As in mid ocean the sailor beholds the sea, bounded only by the sky, so here they beheld only ice which stretched away to the horizon on every side, truly a sea of ice. Clouds of snow whirled along its surface, at times rising and disappearing in the cold air or drifted across the face of the setting moon. Beautiful clouds of lissy whiteness to the eye, but burning to the flesh as they pelted the retreating explorers, like the fiery sand clouds of the great Sahara. They scud before the wind, which they dared not for a moment face, nor halted until they had travelled 40 miles and descended 2000 feet. They then pitched their tents, the cold and wind having lessened, though yet severe. They arrived at the ship the next evening, not seriously the worse for their daring sea voyage on foot. Having been refreshed by food and rest, no doubt our explorers discussed the great glacier problem and pleasantly chased away many an hour in talk about what they had seen and what they had read on this interesting subject. We think their conversation included some of the following facts. The ice upon which they had been voyaging is a part of a great ocean of ice, covering the central line of Greenland, from Cape Farwell on the south, to the farthest known northern boundary, a distance of at least 1200 miles. Instead of being formed of drops of water like more southern oceans, it is made up of crystallized dew drops and snowflakes, which have been falling for ages and which in these cold regions have no summer long enough, nor of sufficient heat, to convert them into water again. But if the crystal dews and snows continue to fall for ages and never melt, what prevents them from piling up to the sky and sinking the very continent? The all-wise director of the universe has made a very curious arrangement to prevent such result. This ice ocean runs off into the sea in great ice rivers, which find their way to the shore on both sides of the continent, just as the water does, which falls from the clouds on the top of the Andes of South America. There we see the mighty Amazon, one of its rivers, almost an ocean of itself, as it sweeps along its banks between mountains and through immense forests. Greenland has its Amazons in vastness and grandeur, as well as its smaller rivers and little streams. It has also its lakes and sublime Nyagoras, its falls and cascades, but they are ice instead of water. That is all the difference between this Arctic circulation and that of warmer regions. But of course, this ice is not like that which many of the readers see every winter. It is a half-solid, pasty kind of substance. It holds together, yet slides along from the higher land where it accumulates, filling up the volleys, breaking through the openings in the mountain and hilly ridges, and pouring over the precipices, slowly, silently, but with mighty force, ever pressing onward until it reaches the sea. These ice rivers move very slowly. It will be remembered that Dr. Hayes drove some stakes down in the one he visited in October. In the following July he visited the glacier again and compared the relation of these to the landmarks he had noted. He just found that this ice river moved over 100 feet a year. It had come down the valley 10 miles. Two more miles would bring it to the sea. Some glacier streams which they visited were yet many miles from the shore, one as far away as 60 miles. The great glacier of Humboldt, farther north, was several times visited by Dr. Cain and parties of his explorers. Its face is a solid, glassy wall 300 feet above the water level, and in extending from Cape Agassiz, a measured distance north of 60 miles, and then disappearing in the unknown polar regions. Surely, this must be the mouse of the Amazon of glacier rivers. But the history of these rivers does not end when they reach the sea. When their broad and high glassy front touches the water, it does not melt away nor fall to pieces, but goes down to the bottom, and if it be a shallow bay or arm of the sea, pushes the water back and fills up the whole space. It may be for many miles. When it reaches water so deep, that more than 7 eighths of its front is below the surface, it begins to feel an upward pressure, just as a piece of wood when forced below its natural water line will spring back. So after a while, this upward pressure breaks off the massive front, perhaps miles in extent, and many hundred feet in height. As this is launched into the sea, its thunder crash is heard for miles, and the water boils like a cauldron, while the disengaged mass rolls and plunges until, finding its acrylic room, it sails away a majestic iceberg. Hereafter, the snow will at times cover, it was a mantle of pure whiteness. The fierce storms will beat upon its defined brow. The beams of the rising and setting sun will display their sparkling glories on its craggy top, or falling upon the misty cloud which envelops it, will encircle it with all the varying hues of the rainbow. As it voyages in stately dignity southward, anchored it may be at times for months, it will pause in silent silence, the drear, long, dark arctic night, and emerge into the brief summer to be enlivened at the home of innumerable seafowl who will rear their young upon its cold breast. Ultimately, it will go back to the drops of water from which it came, to make a part of the great ocean, and possibly to sail away in clouds over the frozen regions, and to drop again upon its glossy plain in sparkling crystals. End of Chapter 30. Chapter 31 Of North Pole Voyages by Zaharia A. Maj. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 31 A Strange Dream and Its Fulfillment The winter was fully settled down upon port folk, but the developers in the squander United States knew nothing of the anxieties and suffering from cold and hunger which most of the arctic voyagers have known. There was one foe, however, which they, in common with all who had gone before them, had to fight, namely, depression of mind produced by the weeks of inactivity and darkness. We have seen how many means were used by earlier, as well as later explorers, to meet and vanquish this foe. Dr. Hayes availed himself of the hints given by his predecessors, and had some devices peculiarly his own. To the School of Navigation, dramatic performances and the publishing of a weekly newspaper, was added the pleasant stimulus of a celebration of the birthday of every man on board. Such occasions were attended by special dinners, the passing of complimentary notes of invitations to the intended guests, which included all, and by fun-making, at which all laughed as a matter of course. On Sunday, all assembled in their clean and best suits, brief religious service was performed in the presence of all, and the day was spent in reading or conversation, saves the performance of the necessary routine work. During the favoring light of the moon, some excursions were attempted. One was made by Professor Sontag, accompanied by Hans and Jensen, with two dogsledges. The object was, to reach the harbour, where Dr. Cain's advance had been left, and a certain if possible her fate. He started early in November, but returned in a few days, baffled by the hammocks, and wide, intervening, treacherous ice-cracks. The party had an encounter with, and captured a bear and her cub. The mother fought with maternal fury for her child, tossed the dogs one after another until some of the stoutest and bravest retired bleeding and helping from the field, and at times charged upon and scattered the whole pack, while the cub itself behaved bravely in its own defence. When the men came up, they threw in, of course, the fatal odds of rifle balls. Once Hans, his gun having failed to go off, seized an Eskimo lance, and ran at the beast. Accepting the challenge of a hand-to-hand fight, she made at him with such spirit, that he dropped the lance and ran, and nothing stave the cub from supping on Eskimo meat, but two well-directed balls, which whizzed at the right moment from the guns of Sontag and Jensen. The bears made a splendid resistance to the unprovoked attack upon them in the peaceable pursuit of an honest calling, that of getting a living, but were conquered and eaten. Among the sad events of the winter was a fatal disease among the dogs. They all died, but nine by the middle of December. This was alarming, for upon them depended mainly the spring excursions north poleboard. Such being the situation, Sontag took at this time the surviving dogs, and on a sledge with Hans as a driver, started south in pursuit of Eskimo. If they could be brought with their dogs into the vicinity of the ship and fed, there would be a fair chance of having dog sledges when they were wanted. The nearest known Eskimo family was at Northumberland Island a hundred miles off, and others were at the south side of Whale Sound, 50 miles farther. Perhaps all had gone to the most distant point. They departed in fine spirits and well equipped. Hans cracked his whip, and the dogs well fed an eager for a run, caused the sledge to glide over the ice with the velocity of a locomotive. Their companions sent after them a hippie pora and a tiger. The moon shed her serene light on their path, and all seemed to promise a speedy and successful return. The second night after their departure, the solicitous commander had a strange, disquieting dream. He says in the journal of the following morning, I stood with Sontag far out upon the frozen sea, when suddenly a crash was heard through the darkness, and in an instant a crack opened in the ice between us. It came so suddenly and widened so rapidly, that he could not spring over it to where I stood, and he sailed away on the dark waters of a troubled sea. I last saw him standing firmly upon the crystal raft, his erect form cutting sharply against the streak of light, which lay upon the distant horizon. Christmas came, and was duly regarded. Stores of nice things, the gifts of friends far away, were brought out from secret corners where they had been hid. The tables were loaded with that which satisfied the appetite and gratified the eye, while the rooms of officers and men blazed with cheerful lights. Outside, a feeble aurora seemed to be trying to exhibit an inspiring illumination, which contrasted strongly with its cloudy background. January 1861 came, and half its days passed, yet no tidings came from Sontag. The twilight had returned, and already the coming sun was heralded along the golden horizon. The commander was becoming uneasy concerning the missing ones, and began to devise ways of knowing what has become of them. Mr. Dodge was sent to follow their tracks, which he did as far as Cape Alexander, where he lost them and returned. A party was instantly put in redness for further search, and was about to start on the morning of January 27th, when a violent storm arose, detaining it two days. As it was on the instant of starting again, two Eskimos suddenly appeared at the vessel's side. One of them was Utina, who appears so creditably in the narrative of Dr. Hayes' boat voyage. They were bearers of sad news. Professor Sontag was dead. Hans was on his way to the vessel with his wife, father and mother, and their son, a lad who was left behind with mother, when Hans was first taken on board of the schooner. Some of the dogs had died, and the family were necessarily moving slowly. Two days later, Hans came in, with the boy only, having left the dogs and the old people near Cape Alexander, and come on for help. He was very cold and much exhausted, and both were sent below for food, warmth and rest, before being questioned concerning the disastrous journey. The large sledge, drawn by fresh men, was sent for those left behind. The old people were found coiled up in an excavation made in a snowbank, and the dogs huddled together near them, neither dogs nor Eskimo being able to stir, and so all were bundled in a heap on the sledge and drawn to the schooner. The hardy savages soon revived under the influence of good quarters and good eating, but the dogs, five in number, the remnant of the strong force of 36, lay on the deck unable to stir and not disposed to eat. Hans' story was this. They made a good run the first day, passing Cape Alexander, and camped in a snow hut on Sunderland Island. The next day, they reached an Eskimo settlement, but found its hut forsaken. Grasting and eating here, they started for Norsemberland Island, and having travelled about five miles, Sontag, becoming chilled, sprang from the sledge and ran ahead of the dogs for warmth by exercise. Hence, having occasion to halt the team to disentangle a trace, fell some distance behind. He was urging forward his team to overtake his master, when he saw him sinking. He had come upon thin ice, covering a recently open crack, and had broken through. Hans hastened up and helped him from the water. A light wind was blowing, which disposed Sontag not to attempt to change his wet clothes, the fatal error. They hastened back to the hut in which they had spent the night. At first, the professor ran, but after a while jumped on the esledge, and when he reached the hut, he was stiff and speechless. Hans lifted him into the hut, drew off his wet clothes, and placed him into his sleeping bag. Having tightly closed the hut, he set the lamp ablaze, and administered to him a portion of brandy from a flask found on the sledge. But the cold had done its fatal work. He remained speechless and unconscious for nearly twenty-four hours, and died. Hans closed up the hut to prevent beasts of prey from disturbing the body. He continued south, and on the second night came upon a village, where he was rejoiced, to find several native families who were living in the midst of abundance. Here, Hans rested, until two Eskimo boys whom he hired was the Sontag presents, could go to Cape York after his wife's parents and their son. They overdraw or starved four of the dogs which were left by the way. The natives whom he found were already on the moment of his arrival, to return to the vessel with him, and Uti Niach and his companion were the first to show their goodwill by starting with Hans on his return. A few weeks later the body of Sontag was brought to the vessel, and eat coffin was made for it, and the whole ship's company followed it, mourning to its last resting place. The burial service was read, and it was carefully secured from all the station. At a later period a mound was raised over it, and a chiseled stone slab, with his name and age, marked the head. August Sontag was only twenty-eight years of age, when thus suddenly cut off. His loss to the expedition was very great. Hans' parents and brother were added to his own family on deck, and proved to be much more efficient helpers in domestic affairs than Mrs. Hans. The boy was washed and scrubbed and combed by the sailors, with whom he became a great favourite, feeling much the place on board as a pet monkey, and proved to be full as annoying to the old cook, who, in his extreme vexation at this mischievous tricks, threatened to kill him a little. The old folks getting tired of the close quarters on board, built after a while a snow hut on the floor, and set up housekeeping for themselves. End of Chapter 31. Chapter 32 of North Pole Voyages by the Harrier A. Munch This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 32 The Crowning Sledge Journey The glorious sun reappeared February 18, tearing only a moment, but giving a sure prophecy of a coming to stay. Scarcely less welcome was the appearance soon after of Kalutuna, Tatarat and Miok, all all the acquaintances whom the reader will not fail to recognise. Kalutuna was Angacoc and Naligac, priest and chief. His gruff old rival, who advised the starvation policy toward the escaping party in the miserable old hut, had been harpooned in the back, and buried alive under a heap of stones. These comers brought the much-desired dogs, and they were followed by other old friends from Northumberland Island with additional dog teams. These natives were treated with consideration. They were made content with abundant food and flattered with presents, all of which told favourably upon the success of the enterprise of the generous donors. In the middle of March the Northward excursions commenced. The first consisted of a party of three, Dr. Hayes and Kalutuna driving a team of six dogs, and Jensen was a sledge of nine. It was to be a trial trip, and the experiment began rather roughly. A few miles only had been made when Jensen, whose team was ahead, broke through the ice, and dogs and man went floundering together into a cold bath. The other team, fortunately, was just at hand, so they were drawn out and all returned to the vessel for a fresh and warm start. The next trial they were gone for days and traversed the Greenland shore to Cape Agassiz and to the commencement of the Great Glacier. They called that one time was sixty-eight and a half degrees below zero. Yet the sun's rays, through even such an atmosphere, blistered the skin. The grains of snow became like gravel, and the sledgerunners grated over it as if running on the summer sand of our own seashore. Kalutuna had an ingenious remedy for this. He dissolved snow in his mouth, and pouring the water into his hand coated the runners with it. It instantly freezing made something like a glass plating for them. Kalutuna was greatly puzzled in attempting to understand why this journey was made, but his perplexity took the form of disgust when the fresh tracks were seen of a bear and cub, and the white chief forbade the chase. He argued in the interest of Dr. Hayes, who might thereby have a new forecoat, pointed to the hungry dogs, and finally pleaded for his own family, who were longing for bear meat, but all in vain. The circumstances had changed since, in the same spot nearly, he had urged the dogs after a bear in spite of Dr. Cain, and thus defeated the purpose of his long trip. On their return, they turned into one rancelier harbour, the place made so famous by Dr. Cain's expedition. Everything there was changed, instead of smooth ice, over which Dr. Cain's party came and went so often, there were hammocks piled up everywhere in the wildest confusion. Where the advance was left when her men took at last look at her, was an ice pile, towering as high as where her moth heads. Old localities were undisournable from the snow and icy aggressions. A small piece of a deck plank picked up near Butler Island was all that could be found of the advance. The eskimo told nearly as many diverse stories of her history after the white men left her, as there were persons to testify, and some individuals apparently to increase the chance of saying some item of truth told many different stories. According to these witnesses, she drifted out to sea and sunk, the most probable statement. She was knocked to pieces so far as possible and carried off by the eskimo, and she was accidentally set on fire and burned. The graves of Baker and Peer remained undisturbed, but the beacon built over them was broken down and scattered. The result of this experimental trip was the decision of the commander not to attempt to reach the open polar sea by the Greenland shore, but to cross Smithstown at Kernpoint, a few miles north of the schooner. To this point provisions were immediately carried on the sledges for the summer journey beyond. On the 3rd of April the grand effort to reach the North Pole commenced. The party consisted of 12 persons who were early at their assigned positions alongside of the schooner. Jensen was at the head of the line of march on the sledge Hope, to which were harnessed eight dogs. Nor came next, the whip of the perseverance, with six dogs. Then came a metallic lifeboat, with which the polar sea was to be navigated, mounted on a sledge and drawn by men, each with shoulder strap and trace. Flags fluttered from boat and sledges, all was enthusiasm, and at the word march the dogs dashed away. The men bent bravely to their earnest work. The swivel on deck thundered its goodbye, and the party were soon far away. The very first day's exposure nearly proved fatal to several of the party. One settled himself down in the snow muttering, unfreezing, and would have proved in a half hour his declaration had not two more hardy men taken him in charge. The spirits of the men ran low, and there were two hours in building a snow hut, in which to hide from the pitiless wind. A rest at Kernpoint, an increased experience gave them more energy, and the next snow hut was made in less than one hour. They proved the snow shovel a fine-hate generator. On the fifth night out, they were overtaken by a storm, and were detained two days in their hut. This was a pit in the snow, eighteen feet long, eight wide and four deep. Across its top were placed the boat oars. Across these, the sledge was laid. Over the sledge was thrown the boat's sails, and over the sails, snow was shoaled. They crawled into this hut through a hole, which they filled up after them with a block of snow. Over the floor, a levelled snow floor, they spread an India rubber cloth. On this was laid a carpet of buffalo skins, and over this another of equal size. Between these they crept to sleep, the outside man of the row having no little difficulty in preventing his companions from pulling the clothes off. The wind without blew its mightiest blow, and piled the snow up over the poor dogs, which were huddled together for mutual warmth, and were kept restless in poking their noses about the drift. The cooks were obliged to call to their help the commander in order to keep the lamp from being puffed out, and two hours were consumed in getting a steaming pot of coffee. But after a while the bread and coffee, and dried meat and potato hash, were abundantly and regularly served, and the men can thrive to pass in talc and song and sleep, the hours of the really dreary imprisonment. Before the storm had fully subsided, the party went on the back track to bring up to this point a part of the provisions they had been obliged to deposit. This done, they put their faces to the opposite or American side of the sound. But the difficulties were truly fearful. The ice, like great boulders, was scattered over the entire surface, now piled in ridges ten, twenty and even a hundred feet high, and then scattered over a level area with only a narrow and ever twisting way between them. Over these ridges and the sledges had to be lifted, the load often taken off, and carried up in small parcels, and the sledges and boat drawn up and let down again. Frequently in the midst of this toil, a man would fall into a chasm up to his waist. Another would go out of sight in one. These terrible traps were so covered with a crust of snow that they could not be discerned. The boat was, of course, capsized often and much bettered. When a ridge had been scaled and the party had picked their way for a time through the winding path among the ice boulders, they would come to a sudden, impossible barrier and be obliged to retrace their steps. A whole day of gigantic exertion and of many miles of zigzag travel would sometimes advance them only a rifle shot in a straight line. Of course it was simply impossible to carry the boat, and it was abandoned. They were yet only about 30 miles from Cairn Point, but had traveled perhaps five times that distance. For several days after this, the heroic explorers struggled on. A fresh snow with a half-frozen crust was added to their other obstacles. Hammocks and ridges and pitfalls grew worse and worse. The sledges broke, the limbs of the men were bruised and sprained, their strength exhausted, and at last their spirits failed. They had toiled 25 days, advanced halfway across the sound, and brought along about 800 pounds of food. On the 28th of April, the main party was sent homeward. Dr. Hayes, Nor, Donald and Jensen pushed on towards the American shore. Their way was, as one of the party remarked, like a trip through New York over the tops of the houses. They progressed a mile and a half and traveled at least 12, carrying their provisions over the ground by repeating the journey many times. Such was the daily experience varied by many exciting incidents. Jensen sprained a leg, which had been once broken. The dogs were savage as the wildest wolves with hunger, though having a fair amount of food. Once Nor, in feeding them, stumbled and fell into the midst of the pack, and would have doubtless been devoured as a generous morsel of food tossed to them, had not MacDonald pounced upon them at the moment, with lusty blows from a whip-stalk. All four of the explorers held out bravely in this fearful strain on mind and body, even young Nor, never shrinking from the hardest work, nor the longest continued exertions. On the 11th of May the party encamped and there's a shadow of Cape Hawks on Greenland, off the American coast. The distance from Cairn Point in a straight line north-west was 80 miles. They had been travelling 31 days and made a twisting and clambering route of 500 miles. The travel up the coast had the usual variety of dangers, hairbreds escapes an exhausting toil. A little flagstaff planted by Dr. Hayes during the Cain expedition was found bravely looking out upon the drear field it was set to designate. But the flag it bore had been blown away. Remains of Eskimo settlements long deserted were found, a raven croaked a welcome to the strangers, or it may be a warning, and followed them several days. On the first day up the coast Jensen, the hardiest of the vessel's company utterly failed. He had strained his back as well as leg and groaned with pain. What could be done? The party could not proceed with a sick man, nor would they for a moment think of leaving him alone. So the following course was adopted by the commander. McDonald was left in the snow hut with Jensen, with five days food and five dogs, with orders to remain five days, and then if Hayes and Nor who were to continue on had not returned, to make his best way with Jensen back to the vessel. The journey of Dr. Hayes and Nor was continued two full days. On the morning of the third day they had proceeded but a few miles when they came to a stand. They head on their left the abrupt rocky ice-covered cliffs of the shore. On their right were high ridges of ice, through which the waters of an open sea broke here and there into bays and inlets which washed the shore. Further progress north by land or ice was impossible. They climbed a cliff which towered 800 feet above the sea, whose dark waters were lost in the distance towards the northeast. North, standing against the sky, was a noble headland, the most northern known land, and only about 450 miles from the North Pole. The spot on which our explorers stood was about one degree farther north than that occupied by Morton of Cain's expedition, yet on the shore of the same open water. Now, if they only had the boat, they were obliged to leave among the hammocks in Smith's Sound, with the provisions and men they had hoped to bring to this point. How soon would they solve the mystery locked up from the beginning, and in the keeping of his frosty majesty of the pole itself. But alas, there were neither boat nor provisions, and the movement of the treacherous flows warned the daring strangers that the bridge of ice, over which they had come to this side, might soon be torn away and make a return impossible. They built a monument of stones, raised on it a flag of triumph, deposited beneath it a record of their visit placed in a bottle, and turned their faces homeward. End of Chapter 32