XI. EXPEDITION TO LOCKWOOD ISLAND.

On the 29th of February, Lieutenant Lockwood went upon an experimental trip to Thank God Harbor preparatory to his proposed grand expedition along the coast of Northern Greenland. His companions were Brainard, Jewell, Long, and the Esquimaux, Frederick and Jans, with two dog-teams. As the dogs, constantly yelping and howling, competed for the mastery, they traveled rapidly, and, after many twistings and turnings, reached their destination, where they found the observatory still standing. They took a necessary inventory, and, after a survey of the dismal plain, visited the grave of C. F. Hall, where Lieutenant Lockwood recorded the following touching notice in his journal: “The head-board erected by his comrades, as also the metallic one left by the English, still stands. How mournful to me the scene, made more so by the howling of the winds and the thick atmosphere! It was doubtless best that he died where he did. I have come to regard him as a visionary and an enthusiast, who was indebted more to fortune than to those practical abilities which Kane possessed. Yet he gave his life to the cause, and that must always go far toward redeeming 140 the short-comings of any man. The concluding lines of the inscription on the English tablet, I think good: ‘To Captain Hall, who sacrificed his life in the advancement of science, November 8, 1871. This tablet has been erected by the British Polar Expedition of 1875, which followed in his footsteps and profited by his experience.’”

The American inscription on the wooden headboard was as follows:

IN MEMORY OF
CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,
LATE COMMANDER U. S. STEAMER POLARIS,
NORTH POLE EXPEDITION.
Died November 8, 1871.

    “I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”

After various struggles with the snow, fog, and cold weather, ending in frosted feet and faces, and after inspecting a boat left by Buddington, they returned by way of the snow-house at Cape Beechy, and, all very much exhausted, reached the station, receiving a hearty welcome. Greely had been very anxious about the party, owing to a storm of great violence, and had sent Dr. Pavy with men to their relief. The trip thus made covered not less than one hundred and forty miles. Lockwood now decided that on the 1st of April he would start upon his proposed expedition. This trip occupied his mind continually. He hoped he might be successful, yet there were many 141 chances of failure. Who could divine the future? He felt that he ought to be able to reach Cape Britannia, but that was not enough; he desired to do more.

As the time for taking his departure approached, Lockwood was greatly troubled with rheumatism, but still was very busy in maturing his plans. Lieutenant Greely wrote him a flattering letter, putting the whole plan of operations in his hands and placing at his disposal the entire personnel and material of the expedition. This would include almost all who could take the field. The men were becoming enthusiastic and were showing an admirable spirit, although they knew from experience that they were to engage in no child’s play. Almost all of those selected had shown pluck hitherto. Without this element no one could endure the hardships that they might have to undergo. Should any of those selected break down early, there were excellent substitutes among those left behind. Lockwood was pleased with an exhibition of pluck by Ellis, who walked all the way from Depot “A” with a frozen foot, refusing the offer of Jewell to bring him on the dog-sledge. Jewell, on returning from Lincoln Bay, had orders to convey stores to the “Gap,” where the boat previously sent over the strait lay. Hence, before starting, supplies would be placed at Depot “B,” at the “Gap,” and at a point intermediate on the frozen strait.

Having all things complete, Sergeant Brainard was to proceed at once with the supporting parties to Cape Sumner. He was to leave Depot “B” with a weight 142 to drag of one hundred and thirty pounds per man. Lockwood was to follow with dog-sledge loaded with five hundred pounds of pemmican. Thus they would concentrate at Cape Sumner with the six hundred rations in hand, together with seven hundred pounds of dog pemmican. The stores embraced pemmican, bacon, corned beef, roast musk-ox, raw musk-ox, English beef, hard bread, canned beans, potatoes, sugar, tea, chocolate, and coffee, besides which they carried alcohol for cooking and lime-juice as an anti-scorbutic. Their sledge ration had been made up by consultation with Lieutenant Greely, though, of course, it might be departed from if circumstances required. The diet list was purposely a varied one. No rum or spirits were taken except as a medicine. The main supporting party consisted of Sergeant Lynn, Corporal Ellison, and privates Biederbick, Whistler, and Henry.

Lieutenant Lockwood, Sergeant Jewell, and the Esquimaux Frederick formed the advance party, while Sergeants Brainard and Ralston, Corporal Saler, and privates Connell, Fredericks, and one other man constituted the second supporting party.

On the 2d of April, the main and second supporting parties moved off in good style, amid the waving of flags, firing of pistols, cheers, and other demonstrations. Both Lieutenants Greely and Lockwood took occasion to address the men a few words of encouragement and advice. Lockwood confined his remarks to the necessity of co-operation and subordination as the chief essentials to success. He would follow with Jewell and the dog-sledge, and, if he knew himself, would not return unsuccessful. He got off at 8 P. M., with Jewell, Frederick, and the dog-sledge Antoinette. The team of eight consisted of “Ritenbank, the king,” a large white dog, at whose growl all the rest trembled; “Major,” a friend of Ritenbank, and a very useful, good-natured old fellow, hard-working and quiet, without any special characteristics; “Howler,” a large, lean, mean, ill-natured brute, whom they took on board at Disco, and who lorded it over the rest till Ritenbank came on board at the place of the same name, when Howler was dethroned; since which he had been morose and misanthropic, and never associated with the other dogs. He set up the most unearthly howling whenever any other dog approached him, especially if that other dog had designs on something he was engaged in eating or trying to eat—a tin can, for instance. At the end of a march, when the pemmican was being cut up, and he, with the rest, was awaiting his opportunity to make a general rush, his howling became almost unendurable. But he was especially despicable, because he allowed any and every dog of the team to jump on and bite him. His only redeeming trait was his earnestness in pulling, for, when the sledge stuck in deep snow or rubble-ice, he was the last of the dogs to sit on his haunches and look while you got it out. On several occasions when Ritenbank was making efforts to get inside the tent and steal the meat while all were asleep, Howler had given the alarm by his unearthly howling. His place in the team was on the right flank, and he kept it all the time, never dropping 144 back and coming up in the wrong place, as did the other dogs. Next to Howler was the “Woolly dog,” a dirty-looking cur with long white hair, which made Howler’s life a burden all the time by snapping at him as he hauled by his side. Next came the “kooneys,” signifying in Esquimaux mother-dogs. They were called “Black Kooney” and “White Kooney,” and were both good workers. Then came “Ask-him,” a pup when brought on board in Greenland, but now of age, and bearing the airs of a veteran. He brooked insult from no dog but Ritenbank, and evidently bided his time to contest the throne with him. He had even taken upon himself the kingly custom of biting the adjoining dog whenever he felt the whip. On his left were two dogs already named, “Major” and the “Boss.” On the left flank was “Gypsy,” a little fat kooney dog which pulled only under the lash, and yet by foraging and stealing managed to get twice the rations of any of the rest, and was always plump and fat.

The advance party reached Depot “A” in good time, and took on five sacks (five hundred pounds) of dog pemmican and some cans of corned beef, which made their load very heavy.

On the 5th of April, Lockwood reached the snow-house, and there found Brainard and the rest, making thirteen altogether. They completely filled the house, and also the dug-out in the snow-bank adjoining, so that Lockwood and Jewell moved the provisions out of the tent, and slept there, and Frederick in the tunnel. The tent being snowed in to the ridge-pole, 145 and connected with the tunnel, they were quite comfortable. On the same day they saw an eagle on a floe-berg, which was considered a good omen. After needed rest all hands took their departure. The snow on the ice-floe was somewhat deep, and the loads very heavy. The route across the straits, previously determined on, was from Cape Beechy to within five or six miles of the east shore, and then as direct as possible to Cape Sumner. On reaching the tent on the straits, about four and one half miles out, Lockwood dropped his load, and went back to look after the sledges, then out of sight. He found Whistler sick and unable to pull, and Biederbick and Connell trying to pull the load without him—not an encouraging commencement of a long journey. Aided by the dog-sledge, all soon reached the tent and camped for the night. Lockwood, Jewell, and Frederick slept in the wall-tent, pitched there some weeks before. Lockwood writes at this point: “Finding it very cold, I was glad to get up and out, leaving Jewell to the unhappy work of getting breakfast. (Breakfast! what a misnomer in such cases!) I then went to the two tents occupied by the others to inquire for healths. Mr. Henry, correspondent of the ‘Chicago Times’ (as he called himself), the same who had written on the side of a large iceberg, ‘Ho! for Cape Britannia,’ said he could go no farther, as he had been suffering dreadfully all night with rheumatism; or, if he did go farther, we would have to haul him back, while from here he thought he could manage to hobble by himself to the snow-house, and, after resting there and 146 again at Depot ‘A,’ reach the station. Henry is a big fellow, over six feet in height, with apparently the strength and physique of Hercules. It was a bad omen for the rest of us when he broke down. Connell had frozen his feet the previous day quite badly, and only discovered the extent of the injury after getting into camp, but thought he could go on, or at least was determined to try. All hands looked very forlorn, but generally were resolute and determined. Finally, Jewell had the tea and canned meat warmed sufficiently, and we stuffed ourselves with all there was to stuff, and prepared to follow the others who had already started. We overtook Fredericks (the saddler) struggling along in the snow with a sledge all by himself. He was a dwarf by the side of the giant Henry. It was necessary to do something, and so I told Jewell he must join Fredericks, and leave the Esquimaux and me to manage the dog-sledge. I overtook the main party about a mile and a half from camp, doing their best. Connell could hardly walk at all, and it was utterly impossible for him to pull. He was very reluctant to go back, but there was no alternative; so, throwing off the load, I took him on the dog-sledge as far as Cape Beechy, whence he thought he could get along by himself. On returning I picked up the load, and proceeded to follow the trail of the others. The snow soon became worse, and the sledge so often stuck that I determined to double up—take half the load at a time. The Esquimaux dogs can pull a very heavy load, and through bad places, but the moment the sledge comes to a dead halt they sit on their haunches, 147 turn complacently round, and wait till the sledge is extricated. If not fully started, they will pull at random, or not at all. On these occasions the hard work comes upon the driver and others with the sledge.”

On the 7th, they joined the other wing of the expedition, finding them in camp some miles south-west of the gap. The wind had been blowing and snow drifting for some hours, and everything indicated a storm. Lockwood and Frederick pitched tent and went into camp, first bringing up the rest of the load.

While the storm was still raging, they got off with half the load, leaving the rest making preparations for a move, and took a course for Cape Sumner, whose steep, rocky face loomed up in the distance, terminated by a line of magnificent cliffs, which extended unbroken, except by “the Gap,” as far south as Cape Lupton of Polaris fame. They traveled upon level floes interrupted by ridges of hummocky ice, over which they had to get the sledge as best they could, and with frequent use of the axe. The wind blowing stronger, and the air being obscured with driving snow, they could with difficulty pick their way. Traveling over the straits was like navigating a ship in a tortuous channel. They soon found themselves in the midst of a mass of rubble-ice of the worst description; gaps and chasms between the crags and blocks of ice, often filled with loose snow, or entirely obscured by that flying through the air. They could barely see the cliffs on their right, and could 148 not recognize their position. The dogs became very much discouraged, Frederick also, and Lockwood himself felt in no very enviable frame of mind. After many ineffectual efforts, and unloading and reloading repeatedly, they left the load and attempted to explore a route to shore. Not succeeding, they hunted for some suitable snow-drift in which to burrow, and there await better weather; but saw none. Finally, the storm letting up for a moment, they found a level floe, and, with the use of the axe, Lockwood and Frederick got the sledge upon it.

On the 8th, at 3 A. M., they arrived at Cape Sumner, and, getting through the rubble-ice near the shore, gained the steep snow-slope which lay between the foot of the cliffs and the line of immense floe-bergs along the shore, stranded and pressed close up to the snow-slope. Between the bergs and the slope, the wind had made great gaps, deep and tortuous. The only way to get along was either through these gaps—often like pits—or to take the slope above and run the risk of tumbling down into them, sledge and all, sometimes fifteen or twenty feet. There was often no alternative but the latter. Lockwood expected to find it calm there by reason of the protection of the bluffs, but, on the contrary, the wind came down from above in gusts and whirlwinds, filling the air with eddying columns of snow. When about a mile from the Polaris Boat Camp, they encountered an immense mass of snow entirely filling up the ravine from top to bottom. Leaving the sledge, Lockwood went on to see if he could reach the Boat Camp, 149 but could hardly keep his feet on account of the wind. Returning, he and Frederick made a small hole in the side of a large drift, and, pulling in everything the dogs could possibly eat, prepared to “weather the storm.” By 9 A. M., supper had been eaten in darkness, for they had no candles, and Frederick, wedged close up to him in the frozen sleeping-bag, was snorting away like a steam-engine. Lockwood soon fell asleep too, but woke up to find the sleeping-bag and his footgear and clothes wet with the moisture such close quarters produced. Everything inside was thawing. Soon after, masses of snow falling down through a number of rents in the side and roof of the excavation, he began to think they would be smothered alive. But while thinking about it, he went to sleep again, leaving Frederick snorting as before. Just how long they slept in that snow-bank, they did not know, but when they did wake up and try to emerge, they found themselves completely snowed in, and only got out by vigorous use of their knives, so hard and compact had the ice and snow become. Frederick being able to understand only signs and a very few words chiefly referring to food, their conversation was very limited.

They found the dogs and sledge almost buried in snow. Hastily harnessing up, they reached the Boat Camp on Newman’s Bay at noon. Here they again went into camp by digging into a snow-bank and covering the hole with the tent. “Skaffer,” or eating, being first in order, they supplied themselves by thawing their prepared roast. Then they had a smoke—that great solace of the traveler in every clime. Snow-houses 150 and snow-holes, they concluded, have many objections, but they always have the merit of being warm. Feeling uneasy about Brainard and his party, imagining all manner of things about them, at 9 P. M., Lockwood left everything behind and went forth with dogs and sledge to hunt them up, and at midnight met them valiantly struggling along toward the Boat Camp. They had found shelter from the storm behind a large, friendly floe-berg, where the tent could stand. On the 10th, preceding them, he picked up the bags of pemmican he had put off, and returned to Boat Camp, where they came also and burrowed in the snow. All thus found themselves at their first station. Jewell, being originally of the party of the dog-sledge, lodged and fed with them when together, he sleeping in a single bag, and Lockwood and Frederick together. “It was,” Lockwood remarks, “a choice of evils which to prefer—Frederick groaning like a piece of machinery, or Jewell always getting the stockings and wraps mixed up, and invariably laying hold of the dry ones as his own.”

“Snow-holes,” he again says, “having the insuperable objection of asphyxiation, we repaired the tents and returned to civilization—that is, went really into camp. Whistler and Bender were found completely done up this morning both in flesh and spirits—all kinds of pains, shortness of breath, spitting of blood, faintness. Not being enthusiastic about going farther, I deemed it best to send them back, and they left at once for the station.”

They now had several things to look to before going 151 farther—to bring up the rations sent across to the Gap, also to bring over those left at the tent on the straits.

At midnight, Brainard and party, with three Hudson Bay sledges, started on this work, and Lockwood left two hours after, with a dog-sledge and Frederick, for the same purpose. Taking advantage of smooth ice, interrupted now and then outside the pack near shore, he soon overhauled Brainard, and they reached the Gap together. There they found the boat, which had been sent over with so much labor, a complete wreck. They, however, placed it out of reach of further damage, as it might yet become important to them. They then went into camp by going into a snow-burrow prepared there some weeks before when the boat had been brought over, and proceeded to have a feast, which possessed at least one merit, that of being enough, for Lockwood did not deem it necessary to adhere strictly to sledge rations till they had left their base of supplies. Leaving the others to load up and return to Boat Camp, he and Frederick left with the dog-sledge for the food put out on the straits en route. Part of this they took up and then joined the others at Boat Camp, men and dogs well spent and tired; but a good meal, a good smoke, and a snooze in their bags, set them all right.

Their number was now reduced to nine, two having been sent back soon after leaving the snow-house (Depot “B”), and two from Boat Camp. The Hudson Bay sledges were much worn, and likely to become useless. Lockwood now determined to return to the 152 main station for new runners, leaving the men under Brainard to bring up the supplies still out, and otherwise make ready for the advance. The round trip would be one hundred miles, and would add much to the labor of the dogs, but there was no help for it, as he could take no chances on the threshold of the long journey before them.

Soon after making this resolve, he and Frederick got off with their team, carrying nothing but an axe and half a pound of tobacco. The dogs were in fine condition, notwithstanding their recent hard work. True, they supplemented their rations and thus added to their strength by stealing thirty-five pounds of bacon! “It is wonderful,” Lockwood here remarks, “what these Esquimaux dogs can do. This team, which was regarded as a scrub affair—Dr. Pavy having had his pick of dogs—hauled ice all through the winter, made a trip beyond Cape Beechy in February, another to Thank-God-Harbor and Newman’s Bay in March, and then hauled a load to Lincoln Bay and four days after started on this present trip; yet now they travel along as lively as ever—so lively that the driver finds it difficult to keep up.”

They duly reached the station, and, of course, Greely and all were surprised to see them, probably taking them for another cargo of cripples. After a good sleep and a feast, they were off on their return at 10 P. M. of the 14th. They took on the runners, a feed of walrus-meat, a few other trifles, and also a heliograph, the last to open communication in case of delay or disaster. Stopping six hours at the snow-house 153 to rest and feed, they started across the strait with a small load of meat, and, notwithstanding some rubble-ice which delayed them, reached the Boat Camp at 5.30 P. M., very tired and very sleepy, too, having accomplished this remarkable journey of one hundred miles in fifty-four hours. During their absence, Brainard had brought in everything, and all was ready for the advance as soon as they could repair the sledges.

After repairing and rebuilding, they had for the trip:

1. Dog-sledge, Lieutenant Lockwood and Esquimaux Frederick; total weight, 743 pounds.

2. Large sledge (the “Nares”), drawn by Sergeants Brainard and Ralston and Corporal Saler; estimated total weight, 651 pounds.

3. Hudson Bay sledge (“Hall”), drawn by Sergeant Jewell and private Fredericks; estimated total weight, 300 pounds.

4. Hudson Bay sledge (“Hayes”), drawn by Sergeant Lynn and Corporal Ellison; estimated total weight, 300 pounds.

Of this weight, 225 pounds was of equipments, independent of weight of sledges, and 900 pounds, of food for men and dogs.

At 10.30 P. M., they left the Boat Camp and crossed Newman’s Bay, to a ravine, or narrow valley, directly opposite, which the lieutenant called Gorge Creek after finding it was not the route he had taken it for—that of Beaumont’s return. The others being far behind, he left the sledge and proceeded on alone 154 to explore. Passing through a narrow gap, the valley widened out as before, in some places the exposed stones offering a serious obstacle to heavily laden sledges. Returning, he and Frederick went back with the team and assisted in bringing up the foot-sledges. Then, after an advance of ten miles in eight hours, all went into camp again. Leaving the camp at 10 P. M., and doubling up from the start, they made their way up the valley, through the gap, and to the head of the valley beyond. They found the exposed stones so annoying that Lockwood regretted often he had not taken the route round Cape Brevoort, notwithstanding the rubble-ice. Though Lockwood felt confident he had reached the divide, yet, throwing off the load, he sent Frederick with the team back to assist the others, while he went ahead to further reconnoitre. Although he ascended a high hill, he could see little encouraging beyond. He returned to the load and continued down-stream until he met the others painfully advancing, when all went into camp, after making an advance of six miles in eight hours.

Got off again with half-load at 10 P. M. Preceding the others, Lockwood and Frederick made their way over slightly undulating plains, keeping as far as possible northward until they came to a decided depression in that direction, sometimes following blind leads, and then returning and continuing on their former way. Lockwood finally saw before him the crest of the bluff of a water-course, gaining which he found to his joy a stream running north, which he entered. Though filled with snow, it afforded good 155 traveling for the dog team. Continuing down this stream, he passed between two large masses of rock like a gateway. Here was a regular ca?on as straight as a street and nearly level, whose sides were almost perpendicular and extremely picturesque. Seeing no signs of the sea, he resolved to camp here. To this end, throwing off the half load, he went back for that left behind, expecting to meet the foot-sledges on the way. Disappointed in this, he returned to the ravine, and at 6 P. M. he and Frederick were into their sleeping-bags, feeling much uneasiness about their route, for they had already traveled a much greater distance than the English maps called for as lying between Newman’s Bay and the north coast.

Although the men with the drag-sledges had not come up, Lockwood resolved to leave everything behind and go ahead down the ca?on with the empty sledge till assured that he was en route to the sea by finding the sea itself. Carrying out this resolve at 10 A. M., the ca?on soon widened into a valley, with deep, soft snow-bed or stones, and inclosed by lofty mountains. He crossed this, and came to a gorge like a railroad-cutting, through which the stream ran. Ascending an adjacent hill, before him lay what seemed an extended plain, which he recognized as the sea, from a line of floe-bergs marking the coast.

Just where they were, he did not know, nor did he find out till their return. The sea had been found, so now they were to find and bring up the men and sledges. Lockwood and Frederick, with the wearied team, rapidly went back and happily found the absent 156 ones, safely, if not comfortably, camped alongside their load.

All broke camp at 7 P. M. and proceeded to bring up such of the impedimenta as had been left behind; after which they made their way with great labor through the ca?on, valley, and gorge to the sea, reaching there, at 4 A. M. of the 22d, with everything except a seal-skin mit, which got adrift and went flying before the wind over the hills like a bird; for a terrific snow-storm was then raging. They found great difficulty in making the tents stand, and, indeed, abandoned the attempt except as to one, into which they all huddled to weather out the storm. The cooking was confined to making a little tepid tea. They remained in their bags, sleeping at intervals, and even going without food and water rather than venture out.

Finally, on the morning of the 23d, the storm had abated, and they ventured out, to find that the dogs had taken advantage of the circumstances to eat up twenty pounds of bacon and twelve pounds of beef, although these had been secured, as was supposed, at the bottom of a sledge. They had also eaten a seal-skin mitten. After some repairs to the sledges, which had suffered by the stony route passed over, they proceeded on their way along the coast, keeping on the ice-foot which here ran along a low, sloping shore backed by a range of hills. At Drift Point, the snow formed steep slopes, extending from the bluffs (now near the sea) to the tops of the line of floe-bergs along shore. There, the sledge “Nares” breaking down, it was necessary to abandon it and 157 increase the loads on the other sledges, carrying along the good parts of the “Nares” to repair the others when needful. Doubling up, they made their way along those steep slopes until near Black Horn Cliffs. Here the slopes became so abrupt that they were driven on to the rubble-ice near the shore. So difficult was their way over this with the heavily loaded sledges, that in many places by standing pulls only could progress be made. Near these cliffs they went into camp after bringing up the half-loads left behind, having advanced five miles in eight and a half hours. Leaving half their stuff, they then made their way over the rubble-ice, frequently using the axe, till they came to the end of the cliffs, when the sledges went back for the rest of the stuff, while Lockwood looked for a more practicable route. Off shore, half a mile seaward, he found a fair route, following which he reached Cape Stanton. He thought Stanton Gorge, where Beaumont had left forty rations, to be near. These, however, he failed to find. After taking a short nap in the lee of a hummock, he returned to find Frederick and the dog-sledge. The others coming up, all went into camp fully tired out, for, besides the roughness of the ice, they had encountered a stiff wind. Two ptarmigans were seen near Cape Stanton.

On the 25th of April Frederick declined breakfast—evidence of something wrong with him. Lockwood, therefore, resolved to go up to a gorge he had seen the previous day, and there go into camp and lie over a day. Frederick could hardly walk, and hence 158 rode when it was possible. Finding a snow-slope inside the hummocks, they made good progress and reached “Gorge Rest” in one hour. In the mean while the sun came out, and the air became calm and warm, affording a good opportunity for drying wet clothes and bags. Lockwood gave a drink of brandy to Frederick, and then displayed Mrs. Greely’s silk flag, as they had now attained a point higher than any American had before reached. In the afternoon, Jewell and Ralston succeeded in finding Beaumont’s cache farther on, and, as proof of their discovery, brought back a can of rum marked “Bloodhound,” the name of his sledge. It was about there that his first man was sent back with the scurvy. Afterward, when all but two had the disease, they had to go on or die in the traces.

On the 26th, Frederick was well, otherwise he would have been sent back. They built a cache and left one day’s ration for men and dogs; also, to lighten load, snow-shoes, head and foot gear, blankets, indeed everything they could do without. They reached Stanton Gorge, dropped load, and Frederick was sent back with the team for the rest of their stuff. The men came in without doubling, having also found Beaumont’s cache on a high hill. They all agreed that such unnecessary labor was enough to bring on the scurvy. They found there fifty-six pounds of pemmican, ten pounds of bacon, and a large box containing bread, potatoes, chocolate, tea, sugar, onion-powder, and stearine used for fuel, all of which were taken on to Cape Bryant. Beyond this point, to Cape Stanton, 159 their route lay along the foot of steep snow-slopes beneath the cliffs, with lines of floe-bergs and hummocks outside, and was exceedingly rough. Lockwood and Frederick, after crossing Hand Bay, passed the men moving slowly and laboriously. Their troubles were increased by frequent upsettings of the sledges along the slope and by the friction of the splintered bottoms owing to the runners cutting through.

It was not till 8 P. M. that they all reached Frankfield Bay, and, thoroughly tired out, went into camp, after an advance of nine miles in thirteen hours.

Here they cached one day’s rations for all, and then traveled along the low shore which skirted the base of Mount Lowe, and came upon the snow-covered surface of Frankfield Bay, a small and pretty harbor surrounded by steep mountains. Beyond this bay, they crossed a spit of land, going up a steep slope, and down another equally steep at a run. There they threw off a half load and went back for the rest. Afterward all proceeded with half-loads, Lockwood taking his post at the traces and pulling with the men. After a while he dropped off to help Frederick, while the men went on to Cape Bryant. Taking advantage of an interval of leisure, he got out the lamp and made just two pint-cups of tea for Frederick and himself. “Of all the occasions,” he says, “when a draught of tea tasted particularly good, none like this lingers in my memory. Though without milk and with very little sugar, it tasted like nectar. In fact, as the gods never undertook any Arctic sledge-journeys, their nectar was not half so delicious.”
160

On the 27th, Lockwood shot five ptarmigans or Arctic quails. Sitting on a floe-berg, they were scarcely distinguishable from the snow. The traveling on that day was on the whole fair; yet so heavily were the sledges loaded, and so much worn, that when, after making fifteen miles in twelve hours, they reached Cape Bryant at 8.30 P. M., both men and dogs were nearly exhausted. To add to their joylessness, they had to be very sparing of their rations. Cracker-dust was with them the grand panacea for short rations. This went into every stew, was mixed with their tea, and was even taken alone, and found to be very filling. By its aid, they persuaded themselves that the short allowance was a hearty repast.

On the 28th, Brainard and others made an unsuccessful search for a cache left there by Beaumont, but got a good view of Cape Britannia from a high cliff. Lockwood and Jewell also saw it from a height back of the camp. Beaumont had seen Cape Britannia, but never reached it. He got only thirty miles farther than Cape Bryant; that is, to the opposite side of the fiord which here appears, and which they called “Beaumont’s Fiord.” While Frederick brought up some stores left behind, Lockwood busied himself with many details connected with his further advance toward the north, for now his supports were to leave him and return to the Boat Camp, while Brainard, Frederick, and himself, with the dog-sledge, were to proceed alone.

Lockwood now satisfied himself by a careful inspection of the sledges that the supporting party 161 could go no farther, especially as some of the men were suffering with snow-blindness. He therefore broke up one of the sledges, and with it repaired the remaining drag-sledge and the dog-sledge. Brainard, also suffering with snow-blindness, remained in the tent, while Lockwood with the others built a cache and deposited therein the Beaumont stores and such others as they could not take on. Food for the return party to Boat Camp having been dropped en route, he decided to take with him twenty-five days’ rations. Hence their advance must be limited to the time these rations would feed them, going northeast and returning to Cape Bryant.

He started, therefore, with—
Men-rations, weighing     230     pounds.
Dog-pemmican, weighing     300     ”
Equipments, weighing     176     ”
Dog-sledge, weighing     80     ”
Total     786     ”

or about 98 pounds to each dog.

The weather, though cold, causing some frost-bites, had been beautiful during their stay here. The men had done their parts well, and had endured uncomplainingly much hard work, hardship, and exposure. The supporting party left at 4 P. M., after hearty hand-shaking and wishing good luck to Lockwood, Brainard, and Frederick, leaving the three lonely and depressed on that desolate shore.

And now, as the returning party disappeared in 162 the distance, the explorers turned toward Cape Britannia. Although they started with a very heavy load, yet the traveling was fine, and, all three pushing, they made rapid progress, having Cape May directly ahead and across the fiord. The dogs seemed to object to going over the sea, and kept deflecting constantly to the right, the only difficulty arising from the deepening of the snow and its becoming soft. When they got stuck, Brainard would pull at the traces, while Lockwood would push at the upstand, and Frederick divide his energies between helping them and inducing the dogs to do so.

At 1 A. M. on April 30th, they camped on the fiord, well satisfied with their advance of sixteen miles in eight hours without once doubling.

Moving off at 5 P. M. with full load, they had not gone far before they were forced to throw off half of it, and soon with this half they found it difficult to get along, for the sledge would sink down to the slats and the men to their knees through the deep, soft snow. Lockwood could fully appreciate poor Brainard’s efforts and labors in a fiord at the southwest, when he crawled through snow waist-deep, and on hands and knees, for two hundred yards. At 9 P. M. they came to hummocks, pitched tent, threw off load, and, while Lockwood prepared supper, the others went back with the team to bring up what they had thrown off. They had to adhere strictly to the allowance, for they had rations for just so many days. They had advanced six miles in seven hours and three quarters.

They started again the next morning with full 163 load, but soon had to pitch off again. Had better traveling, on the whole, than on the previous day, though meeting with ranges of old floes and hummocks filled in with snow. Shortly after midnight, they came abreast Cape May, the desire of Beaumont, but which, with his crew broken down with scurvy, and with heavy sledges loaded down with all kinds of equipments, he never attained. The party pitched tent near an immense floe extending as far back as the eye could reach. Brainard and Frederick went back for the dismounted stuff, while Lockwood turned cook again, the first thing being to pulverize a lot of ice and set it on the lamp to melt. Cape Britannia and Beaumont Island were very distinctly seen, the latter from refraction double. Their allowance of alcohol was a constant source of trouble. They could not afford meat for both breakfast and supper, hence their supper consisted of tea, cracker-dust, and bean-stew. Advanced twelve miles in fourteen hours.

Lockwood and Brainard now took turns in cooking, Frederick being excused. The two former did not sleep well, and, as usual, the Esquimaux blew his trumpet loudly, but not sweetly. They left at 7 P. M. with full load, but as usual threw off a portion, leaving Brainard with it. Toward midnight they came to an open crack in the ice ten feet wide, through which sea-water could be seen below, and had to follow it several hundred yards before coming to a crossing. Thinking this a favorable chance to get a deep-sea sounding, they threw off the load, and Frederick went back for Brainard and the balance of the stores, while 164 Lockwood got into a sleeping-bag and read “King Lear” until their return. In sounding, they ran out all the line they had, then four coils of seal-thongs, then some rope, and finally Frederick’s dog-whip, and got no bottom at eight hundred and twenty feet. They began to haul up after debating whether they should not risk the dog-traces, when, presto! the rope broke, and all below was lost. Leaving their treasures in the deep, they moved on with half-load over a low line of hummocky ice having the same general direction as the crack, namely, toward Beaumont’s Island. Beyond was an unbroken field of snow extending apparently to Cape Britannia. Ice being required for supper, they went into camp on the hummocks, going back, however, for the stores left behind, having advanced eight miles in ten hours.

After taking bearings, they broke camp at 4 P. M., and, with a full load, proceeded over the level snowfield, broken here and there only by hummocks trending in a curve toward Cape Britannia. Until midnight the snow-crust sustained the sledge, but after that, failing to do so, they had to reduce load. Wind and snow coming on, they camped near a small ice-mound, after advancing fourteen miles in fourteen hours, and again brought up the stores left behind.

The next morning proved clear and calm, and gave them a full view of the long-desired cape, which they reached at 8 P. M., pitching tent on the ice-foot—four miles in one hour and a half. Lockwood had read so much of scurvy, deep snows, etc., as associated with sledge-journeys in the experience of the English 165 expedition, that he had come to regard them as inseparable from such enterprises. Yet here they were, at a point which Beaumont saw only from afar, without the first and without serious difficulty from the others. Cape Britannia had been the ultima Thule of Beaumont’s hopes, and quite as far as Lieutenant Greely expected Lockwood to reach. But he was able to go much farther, and would do so. He built a cairn, and deposited a record of their journey to date, also rations for five days for use on their return, the spare sledge-runner, and everything they could do without. Leaving Frederick to see that the dogs did not eat up the tent and everything in it, Lockwood and Brainard climbed the adjacent mountain, two thousand and fifty feet high, to view the magnificent prospect spread out before them from that point. “We seemed,” Lockwood writes, “to be on an island terminating some miles to the north in a rocky headland. To the northeast, seemingly twenty miles away, was a dark promontory stretching out into the Polar Ocean, and limiting the view in that direction. Intermediate, were several islands separated by vast, dreary fiords, stretching indefinitely southward. Extending halfway round the horizon, the eye rested on nothing but the ice of the Polar Sea; in-shore, composed of level floes, but beyond, of ridges and masses of the roughest kind of ice. The whole panorama was grand, but dreary and desolate in the extreme. After erecting a monument, we were glad to escape the cold wind by returning.”

While here, Lockwood took several astronomical 166 observations. They broke camp at 7 P. M., and traveled northward over smooth ice free from snow, to the promontory, where they came in sight of the distant headland northeast, which they had seen from the mountain-top. Hearing a low, moaning sound, and looking to the north, they saw a line of hummocks, and near it their old acquaintance, the tidal crack, stretching in one direction toward Beaumont Island, and in the other, curving toward Black Cape, as Lockwood named the headland northeast of them. Repairing their sledge, which had given way, they proceeded toward this headland, having fairly good traveling though somewhat obstructed by soft and deep snow, and camped at midnight near a hummock and not far from the crack, from which Frederick tried, without success, to get a seal. This would have relieved his mortified feelings at the loss of a ptarmigan he had shot at the cape, and which Ritenbank had stolen. Took observations for latitude and longitude before turning into their sleeping-bags. Advanced eleven miles in five hours.

The observations were repeated next morning, and they then went on their course. After going a considerable distance, they halted to rest and to view the tide-crack, now near them and about one hundred yards across, filled in here and there with young ice or detached masses. This crack was incomprehensible, differing from those seen in the straits, which were near shore and so narrow as to attract little attention. Frederick gave Lockwood to understand by signs and gestures that after a while the ice outside, 167 or north of the crack, would move oft seaward. Resuming their way, they soon after passed Blue Cape, and thence crossing a small fiord got to Black Cape, the bold, rocky headland they had seen from the mountain. Beyond Black Cape, and in the same general direction, but seen indistinctly, appeared a dark, rocky cape, which Lockwood called Distant Cape, because, seeming so near, it was yet so far, as they afterward found. At Black Cape were seen bear-tracks, also those of the fox, hare, and lemming, in great numbers. The tide-crack here came near the shore, and then extended directly across to the next cape. The ice along shore indicated having sustained enormous pressure. Great bergs and hummocks, weighing thousands of tons, had been pushed upon the ice-foot like pebbles.

The ice-foot offering better traveling, they followed that course, though it took them somewhat away from Distant Cape. Leaving it, they crossed what seemed to them a little bay, but it took them one hour and a half to reach the cape on the farther side. Seeing a large fiord intervening between them and Distant Cape which they had wished to reach before encamping, they gave up the effort and pitched their tent. Soon after, Frederick shot a hare, but only wounding him, they had to expend all their remaining strength in running him down. But food was now everything, and they spared neither the hare nor themselves. They called that point Rabbit Point, in memory of the friend who served them a good turn. Advanced seventeen miles in ten hours.
168

Having, on account of a snow-storm, failed to get the sun on the south meridian, Lockwood waited until it should come round to the north meridian, as this matter of observations was important, and difficult to attend to en route. In the mean time, they cached some rations. Saw some ptarmigans, but failed to shoot them. Left near midnight, and having crossed the hummocks thrust in against all these capes, reached the level surface of an immense bay which they were two and one quarter hours in crossing, after untold labor and fatigue, through deep snow, so wet that they seemed to be wading through soft clay. They reached the opposite shore, bathed in perspiration, Lockwood going in advance to encourage the dogs. Sometimes they went down waist-deep. The mass of hummocks came up so near the cliffs as to force the travelers outside. Still, Distant Cape was farther on, with a fiord intervening. At four o’clock, they reached this long-sought point, and looked ahead to see what lay beyond. Away off in the same general direction (northeast) was seen another headland, separated from them by a number of fiords and capes, which lay on an arc connecting Distant Cape with that in the far distance. Inclining to the right, they made their way toward one of these intermediate capes. Sometimes seeing it and sometimes not, they finally reached it at 6 A. M., and, being unable to see anything ahead, went into camp. Soon afterward a pyramidal island loomed up through the storm in the northeast. They enjoyed part of their rabbit for supper, almost raw, for they had no alcohol to waste on 169 luxuries, and carefully laid away the other half for further indulgence. But Ritenbank saw that half rabbit stowed away, and he too liked rabbit, as will be seen. After supper Lockwood made observations, and of trials and tribulations this was not the least. Face chilled, fingers frozen, and sun so low as to require him to lie in the snow; the sun like a grease-spot in the heavens, and refusing to be reflected; snow-drifts over artificial horizon cover; sextant mirrors becoming obscure, vernier clouded, tangent-screw too stiff to work; then, when one had nearly secured a contact, some dog interposing his ugly body or stirring up the snow; such were some of the difficulties to be overcome. Still, these observations must be made, and carefully and correctly made, or otherwise the chief value of the expedition would be lost. They secured double sets of observations here, which delayed them, but got off near midnight from this cape, which Lockwood called Low Point, and made good time toward the dim headland at the northeast. In two hours and a half they reached the cape, which he named Surprise, because they came upon it unexpectedly looming up through the gloom. Beyond and to the right was seen through the storm a dome-capped island, the inevitable inlet intervening. The traveling proving good, they reached it at four, and found it to be the end of a long line of grand, high, rocky cliffs, bearing far to the south.

The ice-foot here being free from snow, the dogs took the sledge along at a trot, and the explorers rode by turns—the first time since leaving 170 Boat Camp. The trend of the coast-line becoming nearly east, Lockwood began to think the time had come for leaving the coast and striking off directly toward the pole, as arranged for in his orders. As this was a matter requiring full consideration, he stopped to get an observation, but, defeated in this by the drifting snow, they went into camp at 6 A. M., having advanced seventeen miles in less than seven hours.

After sleeping, Lockwood rose to take observations. While so doing, and hence out of the tent, he heard a noise in it, and suspected mischief. Sure enough, there was that old thief, Ritenbank, coolly eating up the remains of the rabbit they had kept for a second feast. A dash and a blow, and the dog scampered off, dropping part of the animal in his flight. They had reached the state of not being particular about what they ate, so they gathered up the remains and ate them on the spot.

Resuming their journey at 1 A. M., they traveled under a long line of high cliffs, with hills in the rear. The travel was excellent, but the weather abominable—high winds, with falling and drifting snow. After three hours of progress in an easterly course, a headland was seen obliquely to their left, between which and themselves lay a wide fiord. After an observation of the sun, they struck directly across this fiord for the headland in question, which they finally reached after repeatedly losing themselves in the mist and gloom. Here they stopped awhile to eat pemmican and view the surroundings. Found many rabbit-tracks, but saw none of the animals. In 171 Arctic traveling, one craves warm meat, but seldom gets any but that which is frozen. Continuing along this coast over a good ice-foot, they were pleased to see on their left a small island with a high, narrow ledge, a few hundred yards long. This they reached and went to the north side or end of it. Mist and snow shutting in the land farther on, and also that already passed, they camped, having advanced twenty-two miles in nine and a half hours.

Finding traveling so troublesome in the storm, and much difficulty in getting observations, Lockwood resolved to remain there for better weather, all sleeping as much and eating as little as possible. Indeed, Brainard agreed with Lockwood that, if the easterly trend of the coast should continue, they had better spend their time in going directly north over the sea. On the 11th, it being still stormy and no other land in sight, they remained in their sleeping-bags on the island, which from its shape was first called “Shoe Island,” but afterward “Mary Murray.” All of them suffered greatly with cold feet in the mean while; and, although Lockwood’s feet were wrapped in blankets, furs, and socks, they were like lumps of ice. To husband their few rations, they had eaten very little of late, and doubtless to this may be attributed their cold feet. The dogs were ravenous for food. When feeding-time came, it was amid blows from the men and fights among the dogs that the distribution was made. Old Howler was conspicuous on these occasions. That he might secure all he could, he bolted ball after ball of the frozen mass, and then would wander around, uttering 172 the most unearthly howls while the mass was melting in his stomach. He was, indeed, a character. He had an air of utter weariness and dejection, as well he might, for who can be more miserable than the dethroned monarch, jeered, cuffed, and condemned by his late subjects? One day one of the dogs swallowed a live lemming, and the little animal went squealing all the way down to the corporation.

The weather clearing up a little the next morning, Lockwood took sun observations, and soon after saw a cape with very high land behind it, at the northeast. But the storm setting in again, they could not attempt to cross the mouth of the deep fiord intervening between them and the cape until nearly two hours after midnight. The traveling being good, and aided by a high wind, they made good time across the fiord toward the cape, alternately visible and invisible, and reached it in two hours. This cape proved to be the extremity of a line of high, rocky cliffs, stretching toward the southeast. Here they found the ice-foot entirely obstructed by lines of floe-bergs and hummocks pressed up nearly to the foot of the cliff, and to add to their difficulty, the tide-crack ran here close to the cape. With great labor they got the dogs and sledge upon a hummock, thence along its surface, using the axe, and finally lowered them down again, and, by a bridge over the crack, gained a level floe half a mile beyond the cape. There, finding a branch crack twelve or fifteen feet wide, Frederick went forth to seek a crossing, while Lockwood and Brainard obtained a peep at the sun for position. The fog rising, 173 the grandest view they had yet seen was suddenly disclosed. To their right were seen the high cliffs connected with the cape just passed, bending to the southeast to form an inlet. Away beyond and across this inlet, and east of them, was the farther shore—a line of very high cliffs, terminating in a bold headland northeast of their position. Back of the cape and cliffs, the land became higher and higher, till, just east of the travelers, stood a peak apparently four thousand feet high. Between them and the cliffs below the peak was seen an island of pyramidal shape and quite high. The explorers made good time toward it, over a level floe, as some hummocks and tide-cracks at the mouth of the inlet prevented them from going direct to the cape. Thence, after a short rest and a relish of pemmican, they took their way toward the cape, now standing nearly north of them. Soon the snow became so deep and soft that the sledge often sank below the slats, the dogs to their bellies, and the men to their knees. Fortunately, the load was very light, and yet, had not the deep snow soon after become dry and feathery, they could not have proceeded. It was then that Lockwood promised himself never to undertake another sledge-journey, a resolve afterward easily forgotten when in camp with a full stomach. Time, rest, plenty to eat, and a good smoke, sometimes make philosophers, was the reflection recorded. About noon, after changing their course around an easterly bend of the cliff, they came to what might be regarded as the northern extremity of the cape, beyond which lay the inevitable fiord. Here they 174 camped on the ice-foot, below a mass of picturesquely colored rocky cliffs, and essayed, but failed, to get observations. Their advance was sixteen miles in ten hours.

On the 14th of May, occurred a storm so violent that it seemed as if the tent must be blown down. Ritenbank took advantage of it to burrow under the tent and lay hold of a bag of pemmican, but a timely blow on his snout “saved their bacon.” After discussion with Brainard, Lockwood concluded to go no farther, as their remaining rations would hardly suffice to enable them satisfactorily to determine their present position. While waiting for the sun that this might be done, they improvised a checker-board from the chopping-board, and played some games. After a while, finding that the cliffs somewhat interfered with the observations, they moved the tent farther west, stopping to build a cairn, large and conspicuous, and depositing a full record of their journey and a thermometer. This cairn stood on a little shelf or terrace below the top of the cliff. Brainard also cut “XXX Bitters” on the highest rock of the cliff he could reach, Lockwood telling him he only wanted to get a bottle for nothing on the strength of his advertisement. They were engaged until midnight, chiefly in taking observations and in collecting specimens of rocks and vegetation. Some snow-birds were seen.

The next morning the weather became warm, beautiful, and delightful, the sun bright and sky clear, and there was no wind—surely a bit of sunshine in a shady place.

They took advantage of this to bring out hand-gear, foot-gear, bags, and rubber blankets to dry, everything having been damp or wet for nearly a week. Lockwood and Brainard got but a few short naps after supper, for it was necessary for one of them to be awake to insure their getting up at the right time to take “double altitudes,” etc. They secured a complete set of observations, thirty-six in all. A few hours later, Lockwood and Brainard started to make the ascent of the cliffs and of the height beyond. They gained a considerable elevation, and stood on a little plateau overlooking both sides of the promontory, the sea, and a large extent of mountainous country to the south thickly covered with snow. Lockwood unfurled Mrs. Greely’s pretty little silk flag to the breeze, and felt very proud that, on the 15th day of May, 1882, it waved in a higher latitude than was ever before reached by man. By careful astronomical observations under peculiarly favorable circumstances, they found themselves in latitude eighty-three degrees and twenty-four and a half minutes north, longitude forty degrees and forty-six and a half minutes west of Greenwich, thus surpassing the English, who sent the Nares Expedition of 1875-’76, costing upward of a million dollars, for the express purpose of reaching the north pole, and which expedition sent its chief sledge-party directly north over the ice for the purpose of making latitude alone. The view from their lofty station was grand beyond description. At their feet, toward the east, was another of those innumerable fiords, 176 a bald headland forming its farther cape, bearing northeast. Seemingly projecting from its foot was a low point of land, doubtless separated from another by still another fiord. This was as far as Lockwood could see in that direction—probably fifteen miles. Thence round toward the north and in the direction of Cape Britannia lay the vast Polar Sea, covered with ice and desolate in the extreme. Toward the south lay a vast panorama of snow-capped mountains, so overlapping and merging one into another that it was impossible to distinguish the topography of the country. They stayed on the top only twenty minutes, and at 4.50 reached camp again, greatly to the delight of Frederick. He had seemed a good deal “down at the mouth” of late, which Brainard thought was caused by their long distance from home and the absence of dog-food and “skaffer.” Hastily packing up their small load, they started on their return at 5.30 P. M. Though taking a more direct course across the first fiord, they met with soft snow, which was very tiresome to pass through. The weather now commenced to cloud up again, threatening another storm. It was very fortunate that they reached their farthest just in time to take advantage of the thirty hours of fine weather. However, they were now homeward bound, and did not care for storms or anything else, provided they could “move on,” nor did they require any policeman to help them in that particular.

And now that Lockwood is returning from his special expedition in safety and good health, a few 177 additional facts and a passing reflection on his exploit will not be out of place. Lieutenant Lockwood’s motives in undertaking this special expedition, in which he was so successful, he explained in these words: “My great wish is to accomplish something on the north coast of Greenland which will reflect credit on myself and on the expedition. But there are many ifs in the way—many visible contingencies on which success depends, as well as many invisible ones which have never suggested themselves. Among the former, scurvy stands like a giant, and if this giant attacks us, far from accomplishing anything, we may not ourselves get back.” As we think of Lockwood, at the end of his journey, with only two companions, in that land of utter desolation, we are struck with admiration at the courage and manly spirit by which he was inspired. Biting cold, fearful storms, gloomy darkness, the dangers of starvation and sickness, all combined to block his icy pathway, and yet he persevered and accomplished his heroic purpose, thereby winning a place in history of which his countrymen may well, and will be, proud to the end of time. Of all the heroic names that have blossomed on the charts of the Arctic seas during the present century, there is not one that will hereafter be mentioned with more pride and enthusiasm than that identified with Lockwood Island, memorable as the nearest point to the north pole ever reached by man.