Читать книгу The Great White North - Helen S. Wright - Страница 9

Table of Contents

Nineteenth century, continued: Scoresby and Clavering.—Former visited Jan Mayen Island in 1817, later visited east coast of Greenland, discovered Scoresby Sound.—In 1824, Captain Lyon surveyed Melville Peninsula.—Adjoining straits and shores of Arctic America.—In 1825, Captain Beechey in the Blossom sailed through Behring Strait and passed beyond Icy Cape.—Surveyed the coast as far as Point Barrow, adding 126 miles of new shore.—Second voyage of Captain John Ross.—Undertaken in 1829.—Discovers Boothia.—Wintered in Felix Harbor.—Discovery of North Magnetic Pole by nephew of Captain John Ross.—Commander James Clark Ross.—Valuable observations.—Sledge journeys to mainland.—Four years spent in the Arctic.—Perilous retreat.—Safe return.—Land journey by Captain Back.—The Great Fish-Back River.—Point Ogle.—Point Richardson.—Back’s farthest point was 68° 13´ 57´´ north latitude, 94° 58´ 1´´ west longitude. Land journeys of Simpson and Dease, 1836.—Descend the Mackenzie River to the sea.—Surveyed west shore between Return Reef and Cape Barrow.—In 1839, they explored shores of Victoria Land as far as Cape Parry.—Crossed Coronation Gulf.—Descended the Coppermine.—Reached the Polar Sea.—Overland journey in 1846 by Dr. John Rae confirmed Captain John Ross’s statement that Boothia was a peninsula.

The names of Scoresby and Clavering hold their own special interest in the long list of heroes of the north. A practical whaleman, of an intelligent and scientific frame of mind, Scoresby, as early as 1806, had penetrated to within five hundred geographical miles of the Pole. In 1817 he had made an excursion to Jan Mayen Island, and later ascended Mitre Cape, whose summit is estimated at three thousand feet above the level of the sea. But not until 1822 did his discoveries reach the greatest importance. In this year, while searching for better fishing grounds, he fell in with the eastern coast of Greenland, a shore almost entirely unknown, except where the Dutch colonies of Old Greenland were supposed to have been situated. Skirting this bleak and barren coast, Scoresby named inlets, bays, and capes as he discovered them, passing Jameson Land and finally reaching Scoresby Sound.

The coast of Jameson Land seemed especially fertile, and evidences of rude habitations were seen, but no human beings discovered. Proceeding northward, still following the coast-line, he was soon beset with ice, and though he named other points of land and inlets, he was obliged to return, not having run across the whales which it was his business to secure.

Good fortune, however, favoured him, for on the 15th of August numerous whales appeared round the ship; three were secured, and the ship now “full-fished” could make a happy return to England after a most successful year.

The following season, Captain Clavering, commander of H. M. S. Griper, conveyed a Captain Sabine to Hammerfest in Norway, where Sabine desired to make certain scientific observations on the comparative length of the pendulum as affected by the principle of attraction. Other northern points were to be touched for similar purposes, and Spitzbergen and the east coast of Greenland were designated, the latter point being reached early in August. “He landed his passenger and the scientific apparatus on two islands detached from the eastern shore of the continent, which he called the Pendulum Islands, and of which the outermost point is marked by a bold headland rising to the height of three thousand feet.” (“Arctic Adventures,” Sargent.) While waiting for Captain Sabine, Clavering reconnoitred the coast, and was more fortunate than Scoresby in running across some of the natives, who closely resembled those described by Parry. By the beginning of September, Sabine having completed his observations, the Griper made her way, not without difficulty and delays, by way of Drontheim, back to England.

MELVILLE PENINSULA

In 1824, Captain Lyon, commanding the Griper, was given the task of the survey of Melville Peninsula, adjoining straits, and the shore of Arctic America. Overladen and unseaworthy, the Griper was totally unfit for such an expedition, and upon reaching Roe Welcome, she was struck by a gale which threatened the destruction of both the ship and crew. After being battered around at the mercy of the storm for three days and nights, in which commander and crew had taken no rest or sleep, she was finally brought to anchor in a shallow bay, later designated as God’s Mercy. Here she was still in imminent danger of being grounded, and there seemed little hope of her surviving the high seas then running. The crew were ordered to prepare for the worst, and to this end each man was commanded to put on his warmer clothing. Of this scene, Captain Lyon writes:—

“Each, therefore, brought his bag on deck and dressed himself, and in the fine athletic forms which stood exposed before me, I did not see one muscle quiver, nor the slightest sign of alarm. Prayers were read, and they then all sat down in groups, sheltered from the wash of the sea by whatever they could find, and some endeavored to obtain a little sleep. Never, perhaps, was witnessed a finer scene than on the deck of my little ship, when all hope of life had left us. Noble as the character of the British sailor is always allowed to be in cases of danger, yet I did not believe it to be possible that among forty-one persons, not one repining word should have been uttered. Each was at peace with his neighbor and all the world; and I am firmly persuaded that the resignation which was then shown to the will of the Almighty, was the means of obtaining His mercy. God was merciful to us, and the tide, almost miraculously, fell no lower.”

As soon as the weather conditions permitted, they attempted to proceed up Melville Channel, but another storm overtook them, and, after consulting with his officers, it was decided to turn the crippled ship for home.

Another expedition that set out about this time (1825) was commanded by Captain Beechey. The Blossom was directed to round Cape Horn and enter the Arctic by way of Behring Strait. In describing this great gateway to the north, Captain Beechey writes:—

“We approached the strait which separates the two great continents of Asia and America, on one of those beautiful still nights well known to all who have visited the Arctic regions, when the sky is without a cloud, and when the midnight sun, scarcely his own diameter below the horizon, tinges with a bright hue all the northern circle.

“Our ship, propelled by an increasing breeze, glided rapidly along a smooth sea, starting from her path flocks of aquatic birds, whose flight, in the deep silence of the scene, could be traced by the ear to a great distance.”

To the north of Cape Prince of Wales, they were visited by Eskimos with whom they bartered and had friendly intercourse. By the 22d of July, the ship reached Kotzebue Sound, and after exploring a deep inlet on its northern shore, which they named Hotham Inlet, they continued their course to Chamisso Island, where they hoped to fall in with Sir John Franklin’s expedition, then in the field. Skirting the coast by Cape Thomson, Point Hope, Cape Lisburn, Cape Beaufort, and Icy Cape, they began to see evidences of the approach of winter, and rather than risk being frozen in, they returned to Kotzebue Sound. From here Captain Beechey despatched the barge in charge of his lieutenants to survey the coast. This they successfully accomplished as far as Point Barrow, a distance of one hundred and twenty-six miles of new shore.

The last of August, 1827, found the Blossom again at Chamisso Island, where intercourse was renewed with the Eskimos. By October, no news having been received of Franklin, Captain Beechey reluctantly shaped his homeward course. Not until the following year, October 12, 1828, did he arrive in England, after an absence of three years and a half.

ROSS’ SECOND VOYAGE

We now return to Captain John Ross, whose professional reputation had suffered for ten years, under the cloud of his early failure. Ever anxious to retrieve his unfortunate mistakes, he had in vain implored the British Admiralty to send him once more to the Arctic. Undaunted by their refusal and indifference, he persevered in his determination, and at last found a liberal supporter in Felix Booth, a rich distiller, who contributed seventeen thousand pounds toward the proposed expedition, Captain Ross adding his own entire fortune, which was about three thousand pounds more.

A small Liverpool steamer called the Victory, one hundred and fifty tons, was purchased and provisioned for three years. Accompanying Captain Ross, as second in command, was his nephew, James Ross, who had sailed with him on the first voyage to the Arctic, and had also accompanied Parry on all his voyages. Setting sail in May, 1829, with the avowed object of making, if possible, the Northwest Passage by some opening leading out of Regent Inlet, they neared the Danish settlement of Holsteinborg, in Greenland, toward the last of July, where they received a most hospitable welcome from the governor. Their stores were replenished and certain other additions made, including six Eskimo dogs, a present from the governor. Sailing northward, they sighted the imposing mountains of Disco Island, partially covered with snow, and later, Hare Island, which they found clear, approaching latitude 74°, where the Hecla and Fury had been ice-bound in 1824. No ice whatever was encountered. Not without emotion, Captain Ross entered Lancaster Sound, the scene of his early blunder. Now he found scarcely any trace of ice, and he sailed through the middle of it, passing, on the 10th of August, Cape York, after which the land turns southward and, with the opposite coast of North Somerset (Boothia), forms the broad opening of Prince Regent Inlet. Some days later they passed the scene of the Fury’s wreck. They examined the spot, and found that though the hull had entirely disappeared, the tents and poles were still standing. The canisters of preserved provisions were in perfect condition, also the wine, sugar, bread, flour, and, cocoa, and, after replenishing their own stores, they left a large quantity behind.

By the middle of August they had crossed the mouth of Cresswell Bay and reached Cape Parry, the farthest point seen by Parry on his previous voyage, but here they found difficulty in navigating, owing to the compass being useless by proximity to the Magnetic Pole. Ice conditions also became alarming and obliged them to make fast to the drifting floes, which sometimes carried them forward, but more often backward, so that considerable time and distance was lost in this manner. In the few weeks remaining, before the winter cold held them ice-bound, Captain Ross explored some three hundred miles of coast land, going as far as Brentwell Bay, thirty miles beyond Cape Parry. Here Captain Ross went ashore and formally took possession in the king’s name, calling this land Boothia.

Wintering in Felix Harbor, the party had several occasions for intercourse with the Eskimos, from whom they gathered remarkable information regarding the geography of the country. This led Captain Ross to send out several expeditions, hoping to establish the possibility of a passage through to the west, when the summer should again free their ships, but after careful inspection it was concluded that their only hope was to the north. Though the observations were made from several distant points, and much valuable information collected, the months rolled by in hopeless succession, with no apparent prospect of leaving this desolate spot.

JAMES CLARK ROSS

Not until the 17th of September were the ships free, and even then they advanced only three miles to find themselves blocked once more, and a few days later hopelessly frozen in for another dreary winter. Not until April, 1830, were any excursions attempted, and in one of these Commander James Clark Ross had the good fortune to discover the North Magnetic Pole in latitude 70° 5´ 17´´, longitude 96° 46´ 45´´ W.

“The place of the observatory,” he writes, “was as near to the Magnetic Pole as the limited means which I possessed enabled me to determine. The amount of the dip, as indicated by my dipping-needle, was 89° 59´, being thus within one minute of the vertical; while the proximity at least of this pole, if not its actual existence where we stood, was further confirmed by the action, or rather by the total inaction, of the several horizontal needles then in my possession.”

“As soon,” continues Commander Ross, “as I had satisfied my own mind on the subject, I made known to the party this gratifying result of all our joint labors; and it was then that, amidst mutual congratulations, we fixed the British flag on the spot, and took possession of the North Magnetic Pole and its adjoining territory in the name of Great Britain and King William IV. We had abundance of materials for building in the fragments of limestone that covered the beach, and we therefore erected a cairn of some magnitude, under which we buried a canister containing a record of the interesting fact, only regretting that we had not the means of constructing a pyramid of more importance, and of strength sufficient to withstand the assaults of time and the Eskimos. Had it been a pyramid as large as that of Cheops, I am not quite sure that it would have done more than satisfy our ambition under the feelings of that exciting day.”

The succeeding summer was hardly more encouraging than the previous one. Not until the last week in August were they successful in reaching open water by the laborious effort of warping and towing, and, after encountering gales and ice-floes, they were again fast in the ice by the 27th of September, after a discouraging navigation of only four miles.

The thought of a third winter in the dreary Arctic had a most disheartening effect upon the crew. Their only hope of ultimately extricating themselves from their forlorn situation was in abandoning the Victory, taking to their boats, and making their laborious way to the wreck of the Fury, where, supplying themselves with a fresh stock of provisions, they could push on to Davis Strait, in the hope of being picked up by a passing whale-ship. The general health of the men was showing a decline; scurvy showed itself as early as November of this trying year.

By April 23, 1832, the first part of the expedition started on the wearisome journey of some three hundred miles to Fury Beach. Owing to the weight of the loads, combined with snow-drifts and ice barriers, it was necessary to go back and forward and cover the same ground several times; thus after a month they had travelled three hundred and twenty-nine miles in this trying and circuitous manner to gain thirty in a direct line.

THE RETREAT

On the 29th of May, final leave was taken of the Victory, her colours nailed to the mast, a parting glass drunk in her honour, and the brave old ship left to her Arctic loneliness. Not until the first of July did the whole crew reach Fury Beach, after incredible obstacles had been encountered and overcome, the slow and laborious advance made more arduous by the heavy loads they carried.

Immediately, however, they set to work and reared a canvas shelter, which they called Somerset House. The following month was spent in fitting out their boats. An open sea now gave them hope of reaching, through Barrow Strait, to Baffin Bay. Icebergs and gales proved most disastrous to their hopes and, after making a heroic attempt, they found it necessary to return to Fury Beach and spend their fourth winter in the Arctic.

The winter proved exceedingly severe, and their canvas shelter quite inadequate to keeping out the cold. However, matters were improved by a thick snow wall. Sickness, in the dreaded form of scurvy, caused much uneasiness, and in February, 1833, one of their number succumbed to the disease. Their situation had now become alarming, for if they were not liberated the following summer, there was little chance of any of their number surviving another year.

As early in the season as it was possible to travel, they set forth on their life-and-death struggle for safety. Reduced in strength, many of the men being sick, the laborious process of advancing their loads was even slower than the preceding year. However, by the 12th of July, they all reached their boat station in Batty Bay. Not until August 14 was a lane of water leading northward discovered, and, embarking at an early hour the following morning, they pursued their course with rising spirits. On the evening of the 16th, they were at the northeastern point of America with the open sea ahead of them. Icebergs were numerous, but their courage was gaining every moment, and they took small note of such obstacles. Passing through Barrow Strait, they made that day seventy-two miles. Delayed by contrary winds, they did not reach Navy Board Inlet until the 25th, where they harboured for the night.

Early the following morning, they were aroused from sleep by the lookout man calling “a sail,” but though they made every effort to reach this ship, it passed them by unobserved. At ten o’clock they sighted another vessel which was becalmed. By hard rowing they reached her and found her to be the Isabella of Hull, a ship in which Ross had made his first voyage to those seas. The captain and mate could hardly believe their eyes when Ross announced that he and his party were the survivors of the Victory, which had been given up for lost more than two years previously. Ross describes the scene on board that followed:—

“The ludicrous soon took the place of all other feelings; in such a crowd, and such confusion, all serious thought was impossible, while the new buoyancy of our spirits made us abundantly willing to be amused by the scene which now opened. Every man was hungry, and was to be fed; all were ragged, and were to be clothed; there was not one to whom washing was not indispensable; nor one whom his beard did not deprive of all human semblance. All, everything, too, was to be done at once; it was washing, shaving, dressing, eating, all intermingled; it was all the materials of each jumbled together, while in the midst of all there were interminable questions to be asked and answered on both sides; the adventures of the Victory, our own escapes, the politics of England, and the news which was now four years old.

“Night at length brought quiet and serious thoughts, and I trust there was not a man among us who did not then express, where it was due, his gratitude for that interposition which had raised us all from a despair which none could now forget, and had brought us from the very borders of a most distant grave, to life and friends and civilization. Long accustomed, however, to a cold bed on the hard snow or the bare rocks, few could sleep amid the comfort of our new accommodations. I was myself compelled to leave the bed which had been kindly assigned me, and take my abode in a chair for the night, nor did it fare much better with the rest. It was for time to reconcile us to this sudden and violent change, to break through what had become habit, and inure us once more to the usages of our former days.”

After five years in the Arctic, Captain Ross and his crew were homeward bound, carrying with them a record unprecedented in Arctic history. Boothia Felix had been discovered; the connecting isthmus had been crossed to the mainland of America and explorations made in the direction of Franklin Passage, Victoria Strait, and King William Sound; the Magnetic Pole had been located; and a series of most valuable observations kept during the entire period.

Previous to his arrival in England, the prolonged absence of Captain Ross had caused great anxiety to his countrymen, and, although his expedition had been a private affair in no way connected with the Admiralty, the government nevertheless felt it to be a national concern that his fate and that of the crew should be ascertained if possible.

LAND JOURNEY OF CAPTAIN BACK

Subscriptions were raised to promote a relief expedition, liberally added to from the public treasury, and an expedition fitted out in charge of Captain Back, who had volunteered his services, accompanied by the surgeon and naturalist, Dr. Richard King. With three men, they left Liverpool, February 17, 1833, on a packet-ship bound for New York, where they landed after a rough voyage of thirty-five days. From New York they went to Montreal, where they secured four more volunteers from the Royal Artillery Corps and some other assistants, and embarked on the St. Lawrence in two canoes. Making a brief stop at Sault Ste. Marie, for the purpose of purchasing a third canoe, they directed their course to the northern shores of Lake Superior.

On May 20, they arrived at Fort William. By the first week in June, the canoes reached Fort Alexander at the southern extremity of Lake Winnipeg. Coasting this lake, Captain Back made for Norway House, where he secured his full complement of men, eighteen in all, and they started in high spirits for Fort Resolution, the eastern shore of the Great Slave Lake. The chief annoyance experienced on this long canoe trip was the torment from myriads of sand-flies and mosquitoes, of which Captain Back writes:—

“How can I possibly give an idea of the torment we endured from the sand-flies? As we dived into the confined and suffocating chasms, they rose in clouds, actually darkening the air; to see or to speak was equally difficult, for they rushed at every undefended part, and fixed their poisonous fangs in an instant. Our faces streamed with blood, as if leeches had been applied, and there was a burning and irritating pain, followed by immediate inflammation, and producing giddiness, which almost drove us mad, and caused us to moan with pain and agony.”

After securing all possible information from the Indians and others, relative to the course of the northern rivers of which he was in search, Captain Back divided his party. Leaving several under the escort of Mr. McLeod, an employee of the Hudson Bay Company, he proceeded with four men in search of the Great Fish River, later named after Back himself.

On August 19, Captain Back began the ascent of the Hoar Frost River, and made his laborious way through woods, swamps, cascades, and rapids. From the summit of a high hill, Back discovered a beautiful lake, studded with islands, to which he gave the name of Aylmer Lake, after the governor-general of Canada at that time. Some of his men were despatched to investigate this lake, and in their absence Back accidentally discovered the source of the river which they had ascended, in Sand Hill Lake.

“For this occasion,” he writes, “I had reserved a little grog, and need hardly say with what cheerfulness it was shared among the crew, whose welcome tidings had verified the notion of Dr. Richardson and myself, and thus placed beyond doubt the existence of the Thleu-ee-choh, or Great Fish River.”

Moving on, they found it was impossible to navigate Musk-Ox Lake in their frail canoes, owing to the force of the rapids. Reaching Clinton Golden Lake, they met with some friendly Indians. At Cat or Artillery Lake the canoes were abandoned, and the rest of their return journey was made on foot over gorges, ravines, and precipitous rocks, where a false step would have proved fatal.

Upon reaching Fort Reliance, they found Mr. McLeod had erected the framework of their winter quarters. All hands immediately turned to, and by the 5th of November they exchanged their cold tents for the more hospitable abode. The winter now set in with unusual severity. The unfortunate Indians of this locality came daily to the camp and implored food for themselves and their starving families. “Famine with her gaunt and bony arm,” writes Back, “pursued them at every turn, withered their energies, and strewed them lifeless on the cold bosom of the snow.

“It was impossible to afford relief to all, and the poor creatures would stand round while the men were taking their meals, watching every mouthful with the most pitiful, imploring look, but never uttering a word of complaint. Seated round the fire, they would take bits of their reindeer garments, roasting these and eagerly devouring them. A few handfuls of mouldy pemmican intended for the dogs, was received with gratitude.

“Often,” adds Back, “did I share my own plate with the children whose helpless state and piteous cries were peculiarly distressing; compassion for the full-grown may, or may not, be felt, but that heart must be cased in steel which is insensible to the cry of a child for food.”

On January 17 the thermometer stood at 70° below zero. Of this extreme cold Captain Back writes:—

“Such indeed was the abstraction of heat, that with eight large logs of dry wood on the fire, I could not get the thermometer higher than 12° below zero. Ink and paint froze, the sextant cases and boxes of seasoned wood, principally fir, all split. The skin of the hands became dry, cracked, and opened into unsightly, smarting gashes, which we were obliged to anoint with grease. On one occasion after washing my face within three feet of the fire, my hair was actually clotted with ice before I had time to dry it.”

Had it not been for the timely assistance of Akaitcho, a friendly Indian chief who had arrived with a supply of men and who brought them game, their sufferings might have had a disastrous ending, but this old brave expressed his sentiments in the noble words:—

“The great chief trusts us, and it is better that ten Indians perish than one white man should perish through our negligence and breach of faith.”

With the approach of spring, Captain Back began preparations for his intended journey to the sea-coast, but on April 25 a messenger arrived with the welcome news that Captain Ross and the survivors of the Victory were alive and had arrived safely in England. Extracts from the Times and Herald were shown Captain Back to confirm the news.

“In the fulness of our hearts, we assembled and humbly offered up our thanks to that merciful Providence, which, in the beautiful language of the Scripture, hath said, ‘Mine own will I bring again, as I did some time from the deeps of the sea.’ The thoughts of so wonderful a preservation overpowered for a time the common occurrences of life. We had just sat down to breakfast: but our appetite was gone, and the day was passed in a feverish state of excitement. Seldom, indeed, did my friend Mr. King or I indulge in a libation, but on this joyful occasion, economy was forgotten, a treat was given to the men, and for ourselves the social sympathies were quenched by a generous bowl of punch.”

The four months spent in the remarkable journey of Captain Back and his men to the Polar Sea are one continual recital of hairbreadth escapes in the falls, rapids, and cataracts of the Thleu-ee-choh, and of the incredible suffering and hardship bravely endured by all hands. In describing one of their narrow escapes, where the boat was obliged to be lightened to shoot the rapids, Captain Back writes:—

“I stood on a high rock, with an anxious heart, to see her run it. Away they went with the speed of an arrow, and in a moment, the foam and rocks hid them from view. I heard what sounded in my ear like a wild shriek; I followed with an agitation which may be conceived, and to my inexpressible joy, found that the shriek was the triumphant whoop of the crew, who had landed safely in a small bay below.”

VICTORIA LAND

On the 29th, while threading their course down the great river, they saw headlands to the north which gave them the assurance that the coast was not far distant. To this majestic promontory, Back gave the name Victoria.

“This then,” he writes, “may be considered as the mouth of the Thleu-ee-choh, which after a violent and tortuous course of five hundred and thirty geographical miles, running through an iron ribbed country, without a single tree on the whole line of its banks, expanding into five large lakes, with clear horizon most embarrassing to the navigator, and broken into falls, cascades, and rapids, to the number of eighty-three in the whole, pours its water into the Polar Sea, in latitude 67° 11´ N., and longitude 94° 30´ W., that is to say, about thirty-seven miles more south than the mouth of the Coppermine River, and nineteen miles more south than that of Back’s River, at the lower extremity of Bathhurst’s Inlet.”

The following days were a succession of incredible hardships, the result of the damp weather, the barrenness of the coast, and the soft snow and slush into which the men plunged knee-deep at every step. No fire could be lighted, and in consequence they had no means of securing warmth or cooked food; the men became low-spirited and discouraged. The country was flat and desolate, an “irregular plain of sand and stones; and had it not been for a rill of water, the meandering of which relieved the monotony of the sterile scene, one might have fancied one’s self in one of the parched plains of the East, rather than on the shore of the Arctic Sea.”

Making a heroic advance, Back discovered and named Point Ogle and Point Richardson, caught a sight of Boothia Felix, and then having reached latitude 68° 13´ 57´´ N., longitude 94° 58´ 1´´ W., he unfurled the British flag and took formal possession in the name of His Majesty, William IV, amid the enthusiastic cheers of his comrades. They left the cold Arctic shores the middle of August, and not until the 17th of September did they meet Mr. McLeod at Sandy Hill Bay, according to appointment, and with him reached Fort Reliance on the 27th.

A second winter was passed in the wilderness of the inhospitable north, devoted by Back and Dr. King to writing their journals, mapping their discoveries, and arranging their scientific data, the crew occupying themselves in hunting and fishing expeditions.

The last of March, Captain Back, having left instructions for Dr. King to proceed as soon as the weather would permit to the company’s factory at Hudson Bay, there to embark for England in their spring ships, proceeded through Canada, and by way of New York to England, where he arrived at Liverpool the 8th of September. Dr. King reached England a month later.

For this remarkable discovery and voyage down the Great Fish River, Captain Back received from the Royal Geographical Society their Royal premium (a gold medal). In 1835 he was knighted, having already had the congratulations and approbation of His Majesty, the King.

The following year Captain Back made another Arctic voyage, in command of the ship Terror, up Hudson Strait. Unfortunately the ship got fast in the ice off Cape Comfort, and there remained at the mercy of the destructive ice-pack through a dreary winter until the following July. She had become so disabled that she was barely equal to crossing the Atlantic, but the return voyage was fortunately accomplished in safety.

SIMPSON AND DEASE

In 1836 the Hudson Bay Company, desiring to complete the survey of their northern territories, especially the coastline of Arctic America, sent out two of their employees, Dease and Simpson, with a party of twelve men.

Descending the Mackenzie River to the sea, they surveyed the westward shore-line between Return Reef and Cape Barrow. Two large rivers were discovered, the Garry and Coleville. Though the season was midsummer, the ground was frozen, and northeasterly winds made progress very trying.

By the 1st of August, further navigation proved impracticable and, dividing the party, Simpson, with some of the men, continued the journey on foot, and Dease remained with the rest of the crew in charge of the boats. Simpson fell in with Eskimos, of whom he hired an oomiak, a large canoe, to aid him as occasion demanded. A few days later he writes:—

“I saw with indescribable emotions Point Barrow stretching out to the northward and enclosing Elson Bay, near the bottom of which we were now,” Lieutenant Elson having been in charge of the Blossom’s barge which reached this “farthest” in 1826. Upon the return of Simpson the party took up winter quarters at Great Bear Lake.

The following June they descended the Coppermine, where, in shooting the rapids, they “had to pull for their lives, to keep out of the suction of the precipices, along whose base the breakers raged and foamed, with overwhelming fury. Shortly before noon, we came in sight of Escape Rapid, of Franklin; and a glance at the overhanging cliffs told us that there was no alternative but to run down with full cargo.” “In an instant,” continues Simpson, “we were in the vortex; and, before we were aware, my boat was borne toward an isolated rock, which the boiling surge almost concealed. To clear it on the outside was no longer possible; our only chance of safety was to run between it and the lofty eastern cliff. The word was passed and every breath was hushed. A stream which dashed down upon us over the brow of the precipice, more than one hundred feet in height, mingled with the spray that whirled upwards from the rapid, forming a terrific shower-bath. The pass was about eight feet wide, and the error of a single foot on either side would have been instant destruction. As, guided by Sinclair’s consummate skill, the boat shot safely through those jaws of death, an involuntary cheer arose.

“Our next impulse was to turn round to view the fate of our comrades behind. They had profited by the peril we incurred, and kept without the treacherous rock in time.”

Hardly had they reached the coast before they were stopped by the ice, and hopelessly delayed many days. The season was rapidly advancing, and yet no real work had been accomplished. On the 20th of August, Simpson and seven men started on a ten days’ walk to the eastward of Boathaven. Progress was both difficult and discouraging. On the 23d they reached an elevated cape, beyond which further progress was impossible. Of this scene Simpson writes:—

“I ascended the height, from whence a vast and splendid project burst suddenly upon me. The sea, as if transformed by enchantment, rolled its free waves at my feet, and beyond the reach of vision to the eastward. Islands of various shapes and sizes overspread its surface, and the northern land terminated to the eye in a bold and lofty cape, bearing east-northeast, thirty or forty miles distant, while the continental coast trended away southeast. I stood, in fact, on a remarkable headland, at the eastern outlet of an ice-obstructed strait. On the extensive land to the northward, I bestowed the name of our most gracious sovereign, Queen Victoria. Its eastern visible extremity I called Cape Pelly, in complement of the governor of the Hudson Bay Company.”

In 1839, Simpson and Dease made a more successful journey. The ice conditions being better, they sailed through the strait that separates Victoria Land from the mainland. They pushed on to Simpson Strait, which divides Boothia from the mainland, and later doubled Point Ogle. Upon reaching Montreal Island in Back’s Estuary, they found certain provisions left there by Captain Back five years before. On the 25th of August, 1839, they erected a cairn at their farthest point near Cape Herschel.

Exploring 150 miles of the shores of Victoria Land as far as Cape Parry and the Bays of Wellington, Cambridge, and Byron, they crossed Coronation Gulf and finally reentered the Coppermine River, after a voyage of more than 1600 miles in the Polar Sea. For his remarkable achievements, Simpson was awarded the Founder’s Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society of London.

RAE’S OVERLAND JOURNEY

In 1846, the Hudson Bay Company fitted out another expedition to be sent into the field for the purpose of surveying the northeast corner of the American mainland; the mouth of the Castor and Pollux to the Gulf of Akkolee, so as to link the discoveries of Dease and Simpson and those of the second voyages of Ross and Parry.

An employee of the company, Dr. John Rae, was chosen for this purpose and put in command of twelve men. Dr. Rae is described as a man of unusual attainments, a surgeon, astronomer, an able steersman; combining with his abilities for leadership the accomplishments of a first-rate snow-shoe walker and dead shot.

After a canoe trip of two months’ duration, the party arrived at York Factory early in October. Here they passed the winter, and, as soon as the weather would permit, set sail in two boats, and skirted the shores of Hudson Bay.

At Fort Churchill they found natives engaged in capturing white whales, which make their way to these waters. They secured the services of two Eskimos, father and son, Oolig-buck by name, who accompanied the expedition as interpreters.

In passing Chesterfield Inlet, they heard the grunting and bellowing of walruses, “making a noise,” says Rae, “which I fancy would much resemble a concert of old boars and buffaloes.” At Republic Bay they bought sealskin boots from the Eskimos, and of the incident Rae says, “One of our female visitors took them out of my hands, and began chewing them with her strong teeth, for the purpose of softening up the leather.”

Proceeding on their toilsome journey, they traced the coast from Lord Mayor Bay to within ten miles of Fury and Hecla Straits, confirming Captain Ross in his statement that Boothia was a peninsula; and not returning to York Factory until September, 1847.

Their long winter was spent at Repulse Bay, where they built a stone house and procured provisions by hunting and fishing. Dr. Rae, being an excellent shot, secured in one day as many as seven deer within two miles of their shelter. In the month of September, sixty-three deer, five hares, one seal, one hundred and seventy-two partridge, and one hundred and sixteen salmon and trout were secured. By the middle of October the deer became scarce, but two hundred partridges were secured, also a few salmon, so that by the time all game had migrated, they had a fairly well-stocked larder. However, the question of fuel was a vexing one, as there was no wood to speak of, but the capture of two seals supplied them with oil for their lamps.

Toward February it was found necessary to limit the men to one meal a day.

As the spring advanced, they made a series of journeys. Of these Dr. Rae describes making camp after a fatiguing day’s travel:—

“Our usual mode of preparing lodgings for the night was as follows: As soon as we had selected a spot for our snow-house, our Eskimos, assisted by one or more of the men, commenced cutting out blocks of snow. When a sufficient number of these had been raised, the builder commenced his work, his assistants supplying him with material. A good roomy dwelling was thus raised in an hour, if the snow was in a good state for building. Whilst our principal mason was thus occupied, another of the party was busy erecting a kitchen, which, although our cooking was none of the most delicate or extensive, was still a necessary addition to our establishment, had it been only to thaw snow. As soon as the snow-hut was completed, our sledges were unloaded, and every eatable (including parchment-skin and moose-skin shoes, which had become now favorite articles with the dogs) taken inside. Our bed was next made, and, by the time the snow was thawed or the water boiled, as the case might be, we were all ready for supper. When we used alcohol for fuel (which we usually did in stormy weather) no kitchen was required.”

After days of exposure and hardship, Dr. Rae writes:—

“We were again on the march, and arrived at our home at half past eight P.M., all well, but so black and scarred on the face, from the combined effects of oil, smoke, and frost-bites, that our friends would not believe but that some serious accident from the explosion of gunpowder had happened to us. Thus successfully terminated a journey little short of six hundred English miles, the longest, I believe, ever made on foot along the Arctic coast.”

Of another trip made in May, Dr. Rae writes:—

“Our journey hitherto had been the most fatiguing I had ever experienced; the severe exercise, with a limited allowance of food, had reduced the whole party very much. However, we marched merrily on, tightening our belts,—mine came in six inches,—the men vowing that when they got on full allowance they would make up for lost time.”

By the last of August, 1847, the party returned to civilization, where Dr. Rae was awarded four hundred pounds by the Hudson Bay Company for his important services.