XVIII. THE FINAL CATASTROPHE.

While the following pages will contain necessarily brief notices of the life of the party during an entire winter, they must conclude with the record of the great calamity which befell the band of heroes. Shortly after they found themselves settled for a campaign of idleness, as they expected it to be, Lockwood was again confined to his sleeping-bag on account of an injury to his feet which had not been properly protected; his discomforts being aggravated by the reflection that both provisions and fuel were beginning to reach a low-tide level. The constant hunger which was experienced by all hands went far to make their circumstances dismal and depressing; while the only entertainment that could be provided was the reading aloud, by one of the men, of a story and some newspaper scraps which Rice had picked up at Cape Sabine. A little excitement was afforded by a lottery for the distribution of some clothing and two mattresses which had been brought ashore from the Proteus, one of the latter falling to the lot of Lockwood. And now came a proposition for a sledge expedition, not to discover islands, glaciers, fiords, and prominent capes, but to go after the abandoned whale-boat which had 297 floated down with the floe. This must be broken up and used for fuel. Then followed another expedition, occupying not less than eight days, to Cape Isabella, to obtain one hundred pounds of preserved meat left there by the English. Feeling the want of exercise, Lockwood occasionally took a long walk, and on one occasion was so hungry when he returned, that he could not wait for the regular evening meal, but fastened upon a lot of moldy potatoes which had been abandoned, and with these filled his stomach, almost expecting that the feast would cause his death. Some of the men went still further, for, when a blue or a white fox was killed, even the entrails of the animal were devoured. Food was the constant subject of conversation with all of the party—what they would be able to get, what they had enjoyed in former years at their distant homes, and what they expected to enjoy after their return from the North. Not only were their supplies getting lower day by day, but the only warm thing they could now afford was a cup of tea, excepting on Sunday, when they had a little rum with a bit of lemon.

On the 25th of November, the sun disappeared from view, not to be seen again until the following February, and now the gloom of the time and place was greatly increased. On that day Lockwood recorded in his journal the following: “I have intended writing a letter home recounting my experiences since leaving Fort Conger, but so far the discomforts of this life have prevented me. It is difficult to get the blubber-lamp for more than a few minutes during the day, and 298 sometimes it can not be had at all. The lamp is blown out every evening when we are ready to retire, which is generally about eight o’clock.”

Nor were their troubles in any way alleviated by the discovery that one of the men had been seen, or was suspected of, visiting the store-room to fill himself with food—especially despicable thieving. The expedition to Cape Isabella resulted in finding the food which, however, was abandoned in returning, as one of the men, Ellison, became very sick, and had his hands, feet, and nose frozen. He was brought home by a relief party in a helpless condition, Lockwood and the other men of the party having completely worn themselves out by exposure to the cold and hard work. As it was feared that the men would become insane if they did not stop talking about food, Lieutenant Greely began to deliver some lectures on the geography of the United States and their natural productions; and this was followed by miscellaneous discussions in regard to places for business. Whistler, for example, praised the city of Independence, in Kansas, as a splendid place; Long said he was going to set up a restaurant at Ann Arbor in Michigan; Fredericks would follow suit at Minneapolis in Minnesota; while Jewell counted upon a grocery-store in Kansas.

After commenting upon the terrible weather, Lockwood gave expression to the following: “These short rations make me feel the cold dreadfully. It is a constant effort to keep one’s hands and feet comfortable, or even comparatively so. I find my spirits first up and then down. Sometimes, when I think of the 299 months before us of this life of misery and suffering, I do not see how we can possibly pull through. At other times I feel much more hopeful; but this is a life of inexpressible misery.”

For several days before the arrival of Thanksgiving-day, a great feast was anticipated and on that day enjoyed, including a favorite dish called by them “son-of-a-gun,” composed of bread, raisins, milk, and a little blubber; nor did the exiles omit the reading of a few chapters from the Bible. In the evening Lockwood entertained the party with his experiences as a farmer at Annapolis, all being interested, and he wound up by inviting the whole of the company to assemble there and enjoy a dinner with him on the next Thanksgiving-day, the said dinner to be composed in part of a roast turkey stuffed with oysters and eaten with cranberries. In return for this compliment, each one of the audience invited Lockwood to partake with him of a feast after their return home, and expatiated with great gusto on the dishes that he proposed to have served. The promise made by Lynn was a roasted turkey; Ralston, hot hoe-cake; Ellis, spare-rib; Long, pork-chops; Biederbick, old regiment dish called buffers; Connell, Irish stew; Bender, a roasted pig; Snyder, tenderloin-steak; Brainard, peaches and cream; Fredericks, black cake and preserves; Saler, veal cutlets; Whistler, flapjacks and molasses; Jewell, roasted oysters on toast; Rice, clam-chowder; Israel, hashed liver; Gardiner, Virginia pone; Ellison, Vienna sausage; Pavy, paté-de-fois-gras; Henry, Hamburg steak; Kislingbury, 300 hashed turkey, chicken, and veal; Greely, Parker House rolls, coffee, cheese, omelette, rice, and chicken curry. It was after this jolly discussion of imaginary good things that the party sat down to a stew of seal-blubber and nothing more. The next day Lockwood partook of his first dish of seal-skin which he found as hard to digest as it was difficult to swallow.

On one occasion, when nearly all were asleep, a scratching noise was heard upon the roof, and it was ascertained that a blue fox was trying to make an entrance. The same night the ears of the sleepers were saluted by a loud roar, caused by the ice moving down the straits, a sound most terrible to human nerves. At one time, after Lockwood had expressed his gratitude for enjoying warm feet for a whole night, he resumed the subject of food, and then penned the following: “My mind dwells constantly on the dishes of my childhood at home. O my dear home, and the dear ones there! Can it be possible I shall some day see them again, and that these days of misery will pass away? My dear father, is he still alive? My dear mother and sisters, Harry, and my nieces and brothers-in-law, how often do I think of them! Only three days more to the top of the hill!” (alluding to the longest night, or winter solstice).

“As to my bread, I always eat it regretfully. If I eat it before tea, I regret that I did not keep it; and if I wait until tea comes and then eat it, I drink my tea rather hastily and do not get the satisfaction out of the cold meat and bread I otherwise would. What a miserable life, where a few crumbs of bread 301 weigh so heavily on one’s mind! It seems to be so with all the rest. All sorts of expedients are tried to cheat one’s stomach, but with about the same result. By way of securing the idea of a warm piece of meat, I sometimes pour upon it a bit of my hot tea, but the effort proves futile.”

On the 21st of December, the day which Lockwood had long been anticipating with pleasure, he expressed his gratification in these words: “The top of the hill! the most glorious day of this dreary journey through the valley of cold and hunger has at last come, and is now nearly gone. Thank God, the glorious sun commences to return, and every day gets lighter and brings him nearer! It is an augury that we shall yet pull through all right.” In view of his ultimate fate, how unutterably touching are these hopeful words!

Before the close of that day, however, he made another record in his journal, which forcibly illustrates their deplorable condition, as follows:

“Had a good fox-stew this evening. By a great effort I was able to save one ounce of my bread and about two ounces of butter, for Christmas. I shall make a vigorous effort to abstain from eating it before then. Put it in charge of Biederbick as an additional safeguard.”

Among the entertainments enjoyed by the party were lectures by Lieutenant Greely on the several States of the union. After one of them, on Louisiana, had been delivered, Lockwood added to it an account of his trip from Baltimore to Texas, and 302 that from New Orleans to Cincinnati, all of which narrative was well received.

For several days before Christmas, all were eagerly looking forward to the grand forthcoming dinner and talking about it, a number of them, like Lockwood, saving up a part of their scanty daily allowance for the occasion. Lockwood mentioned that when he proposed to exchange the promise of a fine Christmas-dinner on their return home for a piece of dog-biscuit delivered at once, he found no one ready to accept his liberal offer. The Christmas-dinner was similar to that on Thanksgiving-day; various songs were sung, and, at the close of the feast, hearty cheers were given for Lieutenant Greely, Corporal Ellison, Rice the photographer, and the two cooks.

On Christmas-night all the party enjoyed a refreshing sleep, and the next day there was much talk about the distant homes and friends. Lockwood was greatly pleased to learn that his comrades had formed a high opinion of his father from what Greely and he had occasionally told them; and, while describing the family reunions in Washington, he was affected to tears for the first time during his Northern campaign, excepting when Rice had come from Esquimaux Point with the Garlington records, when his tears were the result of gratitude.

In a region where eating had become pre-eminently the chief end of man, it is not strange that the business of marketing should have become popular. How it was managed may be gathered from the following paragraph: “To-day has been a market-day, everybody 303 trading rations—bread for butter, meat for bread, bread for soup, etc. A great deal of talking done, but not many solid trades made. I traded about half of my to-morrow’s son-of-a-gun for about eight ounces of bread; then I gave Brainard one ounce and a half of butter for two dog-biscuits, but my trading did not prove profitable.”

As for New-Year’s-day, it came and departed without any special demonstrations: the son-of-a-gun was enjoyed by all parties; many of the ice-bound hearts were warmed by memories of home; and Greely and Lockwood had a long talk about the condition of affairs, and the prospects for the future.

The business of trading among the explorers being discouraged, did not long continue, but was succeeded by some other importations from civilization, viz., the taking of property of other people without leave or license. A report was made to Lieutenant Greely that some one had taken a quarter of a pound of bacon, left in the stearine by the cook; also that a barrel of bread had been broken open and two pounds taken away. This proved that the bears and the foxes were not the only thieves to be found in the Arctic regions. The man suspected of the deed was closely watched and had a narrow escape from being properly punished.

On the 10th of January, the case of poor Corporal Ellison was again brought up for discussion and prompt action. It had been hoped that his frosted feet would be restored to their normal condition, but this was not to be, for they were both amputated by 304 Nature, and two of his fingers besides. Strange to say, this was accomplished without his being aware of what was taking place, so little vitality remained in these parts. When we recall the sufferings of this man, in connection with his surroundings and his distance from the comforts of home, we must conclude that the stories of fiction can not eclipse the wonders of actual life and experience. What a combination there of cold and hunger, bodily pain and mental anguish, darkness and perpetual storms!

As we pass over the daily records made by Lockwood in his journal at this particular time, we find food and the dangers of starvation to be the absorbing themes. It seems strange that, in a land of ice and snow, there should have been any apprehensions about a sufficient supply of drinking-water; but this was the case, and the fact came home to the exiles when they found that their supply of tea had to be reduced to half a cup per man. Good water was not only scarce, but could not be obtained from the neighboring lake, their sole dependence, without great toil in chopping away the ice. They had the ice, of course, but there was not sufficient fuel to reduce it to a liquid.

As they could keep warm only by remaining in their sleeping-bags, the manner of visiting each other was simply to exchange sleeping-bags; and thus, when Lockwood wanted to have a talk with Greely, one of the companions of the latter would exchange bags with the visitor.

On the 18th of January, another cloud was thrown 305 upon the party by the death of Cross. He died of a kind of heart-disease, induced, it was supposed, by intemperance in drinking. For several hours before his death he uttered low moans which seemed a kind of echo from the grinding of the far-off ice-fields. His remains were enveloped in coffee-sacks and an American flag, and deposited in a stony grave near the neighboring lake, the only funeral remarks having been made by Lieutenant Lockwood.

On the 21st, Lockwood had a talk with Greely about his own health; said he was very weak, and had been so for two weeks, but had not mentioned it for fear of depressing the men; he could not account for it, and concluded by saying that if he should not be well or better when the time came to make the contemplated passage of the straits, he desired to be left behind with his share of the rations, and then be sent for from Littleton Island. To this Greely replied that he would never harbor such an idea for a single moment; that he would never abandon a living soul.

On the 2d of February, Rice and Jans started to test the passage of the straits, hoping to reach Littleton Island, where they expected to find some provisions or a relief-ship. But, alas! they were stopped by open water, and not successful, though they traveled about fifty miles up and down the floes, and were absent four days. Owing to the bad weather, they did not even get a glimpse of the coast of Greenland. All were greatly disappointed, and some felt that death from starvation was staring them in the face; 306 and yet they found some relief in the increased light preceding the reappearance of the sun. Lockwood, who now became despondent and apathetic, endeavored to peer into the future, and wondered whether his bones were really to be left in the Arctic regions. He mourned over the fact that he had not been as good a son and as kind a brother as he might have been, and hoped that the dear ones at home would remember him as he wished to be, and not as he had been. As to the end, he hoped it would come soon, whatever it might be; and he declared himself possessed by a feeling of indifference to hunger, cold, and gloom, “all of them enemies of existence.” After mourning over the approaching fate of Ellison, he recorded these touching words: “How often I think of the dear ones at home, the Sunday evening reunions, and all the bright and happy pictures that present themselves! My dear, good old father! may he look with charity on my many short-comings! My dear mother and sisters and Harry, brothers-in-law, and nieces! I trust that they are well and happy, and, if I do not pull through this, will learn to look on my memory kindly!” An allusion that he now made to his companions in suffering was to this effect: “The party presents a bold front, and is not wanting in spirit. If our fate is the worst, I do not think we shall disgrace the name of Americans and of soldiers.” The attempt of Rice to cross the straits to Littleton Island was heroic in the extreme, and his pluck was further exemplified by a proposition that he submitted to Greely to make a second effort to cross 307 the straits, and that, too, unattended by any companion; but the idea was not sanctioned.

On the 22d of February, strange to say, a raven made its appearance in the vicinity of the Arctic camp, but was not killed, although it might have been enjoyed at the forthcoming dinner. It must have been a great relief to some of the party that it disappeared without uttering its dreadful cry, “Nevermore!” as translated by the poet, Poe.

On the 27th, not knowing what might happen to him, Lockwood wrote the following in his journal: “The chronometer in my pocket is the one used on the trip to 83° 24′ and on all my trips in this region. My intention is to buy it, but, in case I do not get back, I would have it purchased and kept in the family.”

When the sun first made its appearance above the horizon, as it carried his mind away to his far-distant home, he gave expression to this emotion: “O God! how many years of my life would I give to be there!”

Every day, observations were made from neighboring elevations to ascertain the condition of the straits separating them from the Greenland coast which was distinctly visible in clear weather, hoping without hope to see it frozen over from shore to shore; but the lateness of the season precluded all reasonable expectation of such a result, and the daily reports of open water were depressing in the extreme. On the 13th of March, the announcement was made that the supplies of coffee, chocolate, and canned vegetables were all exhausted, and that henceforth they would have 308 to depend almost entirely on pemmican, bacon, bread, and tea, all of which, though given in one-third rations only, would not last for more than a month, thus leaving them without supplies to cross the straits in the event of a satisfactory freeze. In view of all these circumstances, it is impossible to imagine how they could quietly continue their preparations for a journey to the supposed goal at Littleton Island. Surely the hope which inspired the sufferers was eternal and supreme in its strength and pathos. “The straits,” said Lockwood, “are open, and I see no prospect of their freezing so that we can get across. Of course, I hope to the contrary; for this means death, if we can find no game here.” On a subsequent day he writes as follows: “We look to the end with equanimity, and the spirits of the party, in spite of the prospect of a miserable death, are certainly wonderful. I am glad as each day comes to an end. It brings us nearer the end of this life, whatever that end is to be.”

On the 23d of March, the last of the regular fuel was exhausted, and the food was so nearly gone that the men actually began to collect their seal-skin clothing and foot-gear for any emergency that might happen. Game was not only scarce, but the men were getting almost too weak to endure a hunt. To avoid long tramps, which were sure to be unsuccessful, they turned their attention to shrimp-fishing, but, as one man could only get three pounds in one day, the prospect in this direction was not hopeful.

During the month of March and the early part of April, there was nothing done by the able-bodied members 309 of the party but to try to secure some game, the only incidents occurring to interrupt the monotony being the deaths of the Esquimaux Frederick Christiansen, and Sergeant Lynn. The former had been complaining for a week or more, but nobody thought him in danger, and he died unexpectedly. Lockwood’s tribute to him was to this effect: “He was a good man, and I felt a great affection for him. He constantly worked hard in my service, and never spared himself on our sledge-trips. His death makes me feel very sorrowful.” He was buried by the side of Cross, near the lake. The death of Lynn was also unexpected. He fully appreciated his condition, and gave some directions regarding his last wishes. He was much liked, and highly spoken of by all. After the burial service had been read at the house by Lieutenant Greely, his remains were also placed by the lake-side with those of Cross and the Esquimaux.

The drama was about to close, the curtain already falling upon the band of heroes:

“And their hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums were beating

Funeral marches to the grave.”

The phantom of Starvation, which had long been following them over the ice and snow, and dallying with their hopes and fears as they lay in their comfortless camps, had now become a terrible reality, determined to assert all his powers. Three of his victims were already under the snow, and were soon followed by several others, including the one who had 310 directed them in many of their duties and befriended them in trouble, and whose honored name, attached to a noted island and a famed headland in the Arctic world, will be forever remembered with pride and affection by his countrymen.

The concluding paragraph in Lieutenant Lockwood’s journal was written on the 7th of April, 1884, and alludes to the sickness and death of his two comrades. In the last allusion that he makes to himself, he speaks of his excessive weakness, and of the fact that he could not rise from his sleeping-bag without great difficulty. His death occurred two days afterward.

Having been permitted to examine an elaborate and interesting journal kept by Sergeant Brainard, a few notices relating to the closing days and the death of Lieutenant Lockwood are reproduced, as follows:

January 12, 1884.—Lieutenant Lockwood is very weak. He has been saving the greater portion of his bread and meat for several days, and talks to himself about food. He frequently looks intently at the lamp, and requests that it be kept burning all night.

January 20th.—Lieutenant Lockwood is growing weaker and weaker. He said to me a few days ago, “Brainard, I have lost my grip,” meaning that he had lost his last hope of life.

January 24th.—Lieutenant Lockwood seems to be in better spirits to-day.

January 28th.—The doctor said to-day that if Lieutenant Lockwood did not brace up, he would never recover.
311

January 30th.—Lieutenant Lockwood is growing steadily weaker, and talks but seldom now. I wish he would try to be more cheerful.

February 15th.—Lieutenant Lockwood is better, but does not improve so rapidly as I would wish.

April 4th.—The rations of Lieutenant Lockwood and Linn have been increased to one fourth of a dovekie each per day.

April 5th.—I am afraid that Lieutenant Lockwood and Linn will soon follow the faithful Esquimaux, who has just died. They can not, or they will not, eat shrimps any more. Although they are both given an extra allowance of dovekie, it is not sufficient to restore them.

April 7th.—Lieutenant Lockwood and Jewell will soon follow Linn. They are very weak and failing rapidly.

April 8th.—Lieutenant Lockwood fell in a faint in the alley-way, and much difficulty was experienced in resuscitating him.

April 9th.—Lieutenant Lockwood became unconscious at an early hour this morning, and at 4.20 P. M. he breathed his last. His end was painless and without a struggle. This will be a sad and unexpected blow to his family, who evidently idolized him. To me it is also a sorrowful event. He had been my companion during long and eventful excursions, and my feelings toward him were akin to those of a brother. Biederbick, who was with him at the last moment, and I straightened his limbs and prepared his remains for burial. It is the saddest duty I have ever 312 been called on to perform, and I hope I may never experience the like again. A few days prior to his death he had spoken of writing to his family, but, owing to weakness, had deferred the matter until too late.

April 10th.—The last sad rites were performed over the remains of our late comrade, and he was interred with the others on Cemetery Ridge, Lieutenant Greely reading the Episcopal service.

To the above may be added the following remark made by Brainard in regard to his friend Lockwood: “The lieutenant was buried in an officer’s blouse. It affected me deeply to pass his grave, as I thought of the leader of our little party which had carried the Stars and Stripes beyond the English Jack; but this feeling soon wore away, and, as I had so many other horrible things to occupy my mind, I became somewhat indifferent.”

But wholly indifferent he could not be, even when he saw two men in one sleeping-bag, one of them a corpse, and the other too weak to assist in pulling the body out for burial.

Another and most touching reference made by Brainard to the burial-place of his friend Lockwood occurs in his journal under date of May 31, 1884, and is as follows: “In my daily journeys across Cemetery Ridge, it was but natural at first that my reflections should be sad and gloomy. Here lie my departed comrades, and to their left is the vacant space where, in a few days, my own remains will be deposited if sufficient strength remain to those who may survive me. The 313 brass buttons on Lieutenant Lockwood’s blouse, worn bright by the flying gravel, protruded through the scanty covering of earth which our depleted strength barely enabled us to place over him. At first these dazzling buttons would awaken thoughts of those bright days spent at Fort Conger, of the half-forgotten scene of his death, and of the universal sorrow that was felt at his departure. But later my own wretched circumstances served to counteract these feelings, and I would pass and repass this place without emotion, and almost with indifference.”

The supply of food had been almost entirely exhausted during the first few days of April, and it was impossible to obtain any game or rations from distant caches. An effort made by Rice to secure certain provisions that had been abandoned on a former expedition in order to save the life of Ellison when frozen, resulted in his own death, breathing his last in the arms of Fredericks, his only companion, who buried him in a lonely, ice-made grave. Nor were the horrors of the situation lessened by the discovery that the man Henry had been guilty of stealing their food, for which, after ample warning, under orders from Lieutenant Greely, he was summarily shot, according to the law of self-preservation. His remains were not deposited in the cemetery, but by themselves in a place near by.

The total number of deaths out of the twenty-five composing the complete party of explorers was nineteen, and, while twelve of them were buried at Camp Clay, the remainder, like the lamented Rice, were 314 buried elsewhere or where they died. Jans was lost in his kyack. During a discussion that occurred, about the final disposition of the dead, Lieutenant Greely expressed the wish that the remains of his men might be left undisturbed. They had died, he said, beneath Arctic skies. Arctic desolation witnessed their sufferings, heard their cries of anguish. They are buried in Arctic soil. Let them lie where they fell. Lockwood told me that he wanted to rest forever on the field of his work. Why disturb them? Why not respect their wishes?

Before closing this chapter it seems proper that an allusion should be made to alleged cannibalism at Camp Clay. The writer of this was informed by Sergeant Brainard that such might have been the case, but that not a single one of the survivors had ever known or witnessed anything of the kind. So far as Lieutenant Lockwood was concerned, it was positively established, by unimpeachable testimony, that his remains were not mutilated in the least degree. When carefully carried, with all the others, on board the ship that was to bring them to the United States, his remains were perfect in every respect, and of this his father has the assurance of those who saw them.

In view of the fact that Sergeant David L. Brainard accompanied Lieutenant Lockwood in all his explorations, it seems only proper that a notice of his life should appear in this volume. He was born in Norway, Herkimer County, New York, December 21, 1856, his parents having come from Massachusetts. His father was of French extraction and his mother 315 of English stock. He attended a district school until his eleventh year, when he removed with his family to Freetown, Cortland County, New York, where he attended the State Normal School. On the 18th of September, 1876, he enlisted at New York city in the regular army, being assigned to Company L, Second Cavalry, then stationed at Fort Ellis, in Montana Territory. He joined his troops late that year after an arduous journey of five hundred miles on horseback from Corinne, Utah. In the following spring he participated in the Indian campaigns under General Miles, along the Yellowstone River and its tributaries, and was wounded in the face while in action with the Sioux, at Muddy Creek, Montana, May 7, 1877. In August of the same year, he was selected as one of four men to act as escort to General Sherman and party in their tour through the National Park. In October following, he was made a corporal, and in July, 1879, was promoted to be a sergeant. He was frequently in charge of parties in the field on detached service, and was intrusted with important missions by his commanding officers. Lieutenant Doane, Second Cavalry, recommended him for detail on the Howgate Polar Expedition in May, 1880, Brainard visiting Washington for that purpose. The enterprise having been abandoned, he was ordered back to his regiment at Fort Assiniboin, on Milk River. Early in the spring of 1881, Lieutenant Greely requested his detail on the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, and, on his arrival in Washington, appointed him first sergeant of the expedition, which position he 316 held during the three years of Arctic service. On the 1st of August, 1884, he was transferred, with the rank of sergeant, to the United States Signal Corps, having always acquitted himself with ability and honor as a man, a soldier, and an explorer.