Part 7

But it must be admitted that the question of the depth to which our coal mines may be conveniently or even possibly worked, has an unpleasantly doubtful aspect. Of the stores which the Commissioners regard as available a vast proportion must be mined out from depths far exceeding any which have been at present reached in England. It is not as yet clear how far the increase of depth will add to the cost and risk of working; nor do I propose to discuss a subject which can only be adequately dealt with by those who possess practical knowledge of the details of colliery-working. I will content myself by quoting some remarks on the subject, in an inaugural address delivered by Mr. George Elliot (one of the Royal Commissioners) before the North of England Institute of Mining Engineers in 1868. ‘The great depth,’ he remarked, ‘at which many of our pits are worked, and the vast extent of their lateral ramifications, make it more than ever necessary that we should secure the best mode of rendering the supply of pure air certain, regular, and safe. It is maintained that ventilating by machinery ensures these desiderata; that the nicety with which mechanical appliances may be regulated, the delicate adjustment of power of which they are capable, and the complete safety with which they may be worked, place them far before the system they are intended to supersede. The extent of our coal supply will be materially increased by the improvement of which this is a type.... It is probable that the ordinary means of ventilation—whether by furnace or fan—may be aided by a change in the force or agency employed for the purposes of haulage and other independent work. As an instance of my meaning, I may mention that the apparatus which I have introduced in South Wales, and which, by means of compressed air used as a motive power instead of steam, draws trams and pumps water with complete success, is found to generate ice in an atmosphere which is naturally hot and oppressive. The mechanical usefulness of these new air-engines seems capable of indefinite extension; while, as their cooling properties form a collateral advantage arising out of their use, it is at least possible that they may prove valuable auxiliaries to the more regular means of ventilation in extending the security and promoting the healthfulness of our mines. _The difficulties of ventilation once surmounted, the extent of coal at our disposal is incalculably increased._‘

In the address just quoted there are some striking suggestions as to the possibility of working those coal fields which extend below the sea on our east and west coasts, especially in the counties of Durham, Northumberland, and Cumberland. Mr. Elliot remarks that ‘for all practical purposes these fields are as entirely within the reach of the mining engineer as the ordinary workings out of which coal is hewed.’ It is known that in many districts the coal strata extend ten or twelve miles beyond the shore; and Mr. Elliot believes that by sinking ventilating shafts in the German Ocean the coal below may be safely worked. The idea seems somewhat daring; yet, after the feats of engineering which have been achieved in our day, there seems no valid reason for doubting that at least when the pressure of a failing coal supply begins to be felt, the means will be found for rendering these immense submarine coal stores available. As to the difficulty of transport, Mr. Elliot remarks that, according to his estimates, ‘transport would neither be more costly nor more laborious than it has been in days gone by to convey coal the same distance after it was brought to the surface inland.’ The enormous importance of the subject is shown by the fact that ‘out of the minerals obtainable in Durham alone, one-third,’ Mr. Elliot tells us, ‘may be held to lie under the sea, and that all coalfields having a similar inclination of strata, and bordering on the ocean, will be similarly enlarged. This at once disposes,’ he adds, ‘of some of the fears expressed as to the duration of our coal supply; and while I am quite aware that these theories may be challenged, they are not put forward without due deliberation, and I am content to stake my professional reputation on their practicability.’

With regard to the future of this country, it appears to me that little anxiety need be entertained. Apart from the considerations I have urged, which seem to indicate that our consumption cannot long increase at the same rate as at present, it seems not unreasonable to anticipate that within the next few decades science will find the means of economising our coals in more ways than one. It does not indeed appear likely that any form of fuel will ever take the place of coal; but a portion of the work now derived from the consumption of coal may be expected to be derived in future years from some of the other substances now coming into use. It may be hoped, also, that science may suggest means for bringing coals to the surface with less waste, and even at less cost, than at present. And in other ways the process of exhaustion may be more or less effectively checked.

But while we may thus look somewhat confidently forward, as I judge, to the future of our country, serious questions are suggested as to the future of the human race. The period during which a nation flourishes, long as it seems by comparison with the life of man, yet sinks into insignificance when compared with the period during which civilised men will bear sway upon the earth. The thousands of years during which the coal stores of the earth may be expected to last will pass away, and then the descendants of those now living on the earth will have to trust to other force-supplies than those which we are now using so lavishly. It may seem fanciful to look so far forward, and yet by comparison with the periods which the astronomer deals with in considering the future of our earth, thousands of years are as nothing. As I have said elsewhere, ‘those thousands of years will pass as surely as the thousands which have already passed, and the wants entailed by wastefulness in our day will then be felt, and none the less that for so many years there had been no failure in the supplies contained within the great subterranean storehouse.’ It behoves us to consider thoughtfully the wants even of those distant eras. If the greatest good for the greatest number is to be regarded as the true rule for the conduct of intelligent beings, then unquestionably mere distance in point of time should not prevent us from anticipating the requirements of those remote descendants of ours. We should regard the consciousness of this duty and its performance as signs by which the superiority of our own over less civilised times is partly manifested. As man is in dignity higher than non-intelligent animals, in that he alone provides of his own forethought for the wants of his children, so our generation would be raised in dignity above preceding generations if it took intelligent charge of the wants of its remote descendants. We ourselves are now employing stores of force laid up for us by the unconscious processes of Nature in long past ages. As Professor Tyndall has finely said, we are utilising the Sun of the Carboniferous Epoch. The light ‘which streamed earthwards from the sun’ was stored up for us by the unconscious activity of ‘organisms which living took into them the solar light, and by the consumption of its energy incessantly generated chemical forces.’ The vegetable world of that old epoch ‘constituted the reservoir in which the fugitive solar rays were fixed, suitably deposited, and rendered ready for useful application.’ What the vegetable world did for us unconsciously during the Carboniferous Epoch, the scientific world of our epoch must do for our remote descendants. While we are consuming the stores of force laid up in past ages for our benefit, we must invent the means for obtaining directly from the solar rays fresh and inexhaustible supplies of motive energy.

(From the _St. Paul’s Magazine_, November 1871.)

_THE SECRET OF THE NORTH POLE._

If an astronomer upon some distant planet has ever thought the tiny orb we inhabit worthy of telescopic study, there can be little doubt that the snowy regions which surround the arctic and antarctic poles must have attracted a large share of his attention. Waxing and waning with the passing seasons, those two white patches afford significant information respecting the circumstances of our planet’s constitution. They mark the direction of the imaginary axial line upon which the planet rotates; so that we can imagine that an astronomer on Mars or Venus would judge from their position how it fares with terrestrial creatures. There may, indeed, be Martial Whewells who laugh to scorn the notion that a globe so inconveniently circumstanced as ours can be inhabited, and are ready to show that, if there were living beings here, they must be quickly destroyed by excessive heat. On the other hand, there are possibly sceptics on Venus also who smile at the vanity of those who can conceive a frozen world, such as this our outer planet, to be inhabited by any sort of living creature. But we doubt not that the more advanced thinkers both in Mars and Venus are ready to admit that, though we must necessarily be far inferior beings to themselves, we yet manage to ‘live and move and have our being’ on this ill-conditioned globe of ours. And these, observing the earth’s polar snow-caps, must be led to several important conclusions respecting physical relations here.

It is, indeed, rather a singular fact to contemplate, that ex-terrestrial observers, such as these, may know much more than we ourselves do respecting those mysterious regions which lie close around the two poles. Their eyes may have rested on spots which, with all our endeavours, we have hitherto failed to reach. Whether, as some have thought, the arctic pole is in summer surrounded by a wide and tide-swayed ocean; whether there lies around the antarctic pole a wide continent bespread with volcanic mountains larger and more energetic than the two burning cones which Ross found on the outskirts of this desolate region; or whether the habitudes prevailing near either pole are wholly different from those suggested by geographers and voyagers—such questions as these might possibly, be resolved at once, could our astronomers take their stand on some neighbouring planet, and direct the searching power of their telescopes upon this terrestrial orb. For this is one of those cases referred to by Humboldt, when he said that there are circumstances under which man is able to learn more respecting objects millions of miles away from him than respecting the very globe which he inhabits.

If we take a terrestrial globe, and examine the actual region near the North Pole which has as yet remained unvisited by man, it will be found to be far smaller than many imagine. In nearly all maps the requirements of charting result in a considerable exaggeration of the polar regions. This is the case in the ordinary ‘maps of the two hemispheres’ which are to be found in all atlases. And it is, of course, the case to a much more remarkable extent in what is termed Mercator’s projection. In a Mercator’s chart we see Greenland, for example, exaggerated into a continent fully as large as South America, or to seven or eight times its real dimensions.

There are three principal directions in which explorers have attempted to approach the North Pole. The first is that by way of the sea which lies between Greenland and Spitzbergen. I include under this head Sir Edward Parry’s attempt to reach the pole by crossing the ice-fields which lie to the north of Spitzbergen. The second is that by way of the straits which lie to the west of Greenland. The third is that pursued by Russian explorers who have attempted to cross the frozen seas which surround the northern shores of Siberia.

In considering the limits of the unknown north-polar regions, we shall also have to take into account the voyages which have been made around the northern shores of the American continent in the search for a ‘north-west passage.’ The explorers who set out upon this search found themselves gradually forced to seek higher and higher latitudes in order to find a way round the complicated barriers presented by the ice-bound straits and islands which lie to the north of the American continent. And it may be noticed in passing, as a remarkable and unforeseen circumstance, that the farther north the voyagers went the less severe was the cold they had to encounter. We shall see that this circumstance has an important bearing on the considerations I shall presently have to deal with.

One other circumstance respecting the search for the north-west passage, though not connected very closely with my subject, is so singular and so little known that I feel tempted to make mention of it at this point. The notion with which the seekers after a north-west passage set out was simply this, that the easiest way of reaching China and the East Indies was to pursue a course resembling as near as possible that on which Columbus had set out—if only it should appear that no impassable barriers rendered such a course impracticable. They quickly found that the American continent presents an unbroken line of land from high northern latitudes far away towards the antarctic seas. But it is a circumstance worth noticing, that if the American continents had no existence, the direct westerly course pursued by Columbus was not only not the nearest way to the East Indian Archipelago, but was one of the longest routes which could possibly have been selected. Surprising as it may seem at first sight, a voyager from Spain for China and the East Indies ought, if he sought the absolutely shortest path, to set out on an almost direct northerly route! He would pass close by Ireland and Iceland, and onwards past the North Pole into the Pacific. This is what is called the great-circle route; and if it were only practicable one, would shorten the journey to China by many hundreds of miles.

Let us return, however, to the consideration of the information which arctic voyagers have brought us concerning the north-polar regions.

The most laborious researches in arctic seas are those which have been carried out by the searchers after a north-west passage. I shall therefore first consider the limits of the unknown region in this direction. Afterwards we can examine the results of those voyages which have been undertaken with the express purpose of reaching the North Pole along the three principal routes already mentioned.

If we examine a map of North America constructed in recent times, we shall find that between Greenland and Canada an immense extent of coast-line has been charted. A vast archipelago covers this part of the northern world. Or, if the strangely-complicated coastlines which have been laid down really belong to but a small number of islands, the figures of those must be of the most fantastic kind. Towards the north-west, however, we find several islands whose outlines have been entirely ascertained. Thus we have in succession North Devon Island, Cornwallis Island, Melville Island, and Port Patrick Island, all lying north of the seventy-fifth parallel of latitude. But we are not to suppose that these islands limit the extent of our seamen’s researches in this direction. Far to the northward of Wellington Channel, Captain de Haven saw, in 1852, the signs of an open sea—in other words, he saw, beyond the ice-fields, what arctic seamen call a ‘water sky.’ In 1855 Captain Penny sailed upon this open sea; but how far it extends towards the North Pole has not yet been ascertained.

It must not be forgotten that the north-west passage has been shown to be a reality, by means of voyages from the Pacific as well as from the Atlantic. No arctic voyager, however, has yet succeeded in passing from one ocean to the other. Nor is it likely now that any voyager will pursue his way along a path so beset by dangers as that which is called the north-west passage. Long before the problem had been solved, it had become well known that no profit could be expected to accrue to trade from the discovery of a passage along the perilous straits and the ice-encumbered seas which, lie to the north of the American continent. But Sir Edward Parry having traced out a passage as far as Melville Island, it seemed to the bold spirit of our arctic explorers that it might be possible, by sailing through Behring’s Straits, to trace out a connection between the arctic seas on that side and the regions reached by Parry. Accordingly, M’Clure, in 1850, sailed in the ‘Investigator,’ and passing eastward, after traversing Behring’s Straits, reached Baring’s Land, and eventually identified this land as a portion of Banks’ Land, seen by Parry to the southward of Melville Island.

It will thus be seen that the unexplored parts of the arctic regions are limited in this direction by sufficiently high latitudes.

Turn we next to the explorations which Russian voyagers have made to the northward of Siberia. It must be noticed, in the first place, that the coast of Siberia runs much farther northward than that of the American continent. So that on this side, independently of sea explorations, the unknown arctic regions are limited within very high latitudes. But attempts have been made to push much farther north from these shores. In every case, however, the voyagers have found that the ice-fields, over which they hoped to make their way, have become gradually less and less firm, until at length no doubt could remain that there lay an open sea beyond them. How far that sea may extend is a part of the secret of the North Pole; but we may assume that it is no narrow sea, since otherwise there can be little doubt that the ice-fields which surround the shores of Northern Siberia would extend unbroken to the farther shores of what we should thus have to recognise as a strait. The thinning-off of these ice-fields, observed by Baron Wrangel and his companions, affords, indeed, most remarkable and significant testimony respecting the nature of the sea which lies beyond. This I shall presently have to exhibit more at length; in the meantime I need only remark that scarcely any doubt can exist that the sea thus discovered extends northwards to at least the eightieth parallel of latitude.

We may say, then, that from Wellington Channel, northward of the American continent, right round towards the west, up to the neighbourhood of Spitzbergen, very little doubt exists as to the general characteristics of the arctic regions, save only as respects those unexplored parts which lie within ten or twelve degrees of the North Pole. The reader will see presently why I am so careful to exhibit the limited extent of the unexplored arctic regions in this direction. The guess we shall form as to the true nature of the north-polar secret will depend almost entirely on this consideration.

I turn now to those two paths along which arctic exploration, properly so termed, has been most successfully pursued.

It is chiefly to the expeditions of Drs. Kane and Hayes that we owe the important knowledge we have respecting the northerly portions of the straits which lie to the west of Greenland. Each of these explorers succeeded in reaching the shores of an open sea lying to the north-east of Kennedy Channel, the extreme northerly limit of those straits. Hayes, who had accompanied Kane in the voyage of 1854-5, succeeded in reaching a somewhat higher latitude in sledges drawn by Esquimaux dogs. But both expeditions agree in showing that the shores of Greenland trend off suddenly towards the east at a point within some nine degrees of the North Pole. On the other hand, the prolongation of the opposite shore of Kennedy Channel was found to extend northwards as far as the eye could reach. Within the angle thus formed there was an open sea ‘rolling,’ says Captain Maury, ‘with the swell of a boundless ocean.’

But a circumstance was noticed respecting this sea which was very significant. The tides ebbed and flowed in it. Only one fact we know of—a fact to be presently discussed—throws so much light on the question we are considering as this circumstance does. Let us consider a little whence these tidal waves can have come.

The narrow straits between Greenland on the one side, and Ellesmere Land and Grinnell Land on the other, are completely ice-bound. We cannot suppose that the tidal wave could have found its way beneath such a barrier as this. ‘I apprehend,’ says Captain Maury, ‘that the tidal wave from the Atlantic can no more pass under this icy barrier, to be propagated in the seas beyond, than the vibrations of a musical string can pass with its notes a fret on which the musician has placed his finger.’

Are we to suppose, then, that the tidal waves were formed in the very sea in which they were seen by Kane and Hayes? This is Captain Maury’s opinion:—‘These tides,’ says he, ‘must have been born in that cold sea, having their cradle about the North Pole.’

But if we carefully consider the theory of the tides, this opinion seems inadmissible. Every consideration on which that theory is founded is opposed to the assumption that the moon could by any possibility raise tides in an arctic basin of limited extent. It would be out of place to examine at length the principle on which the formation of tides depends. It will be sufficient for our purposes to remark that it is not to the mere strength of the moon’s ‘pull’ upon the waters of any ocean that the tidal wave owes its origin, but to the difference of the forces by which the various parts of that ocean are attracted. The whole of an ocean cannot be raised at once by the moon; but if one part is attracted more than another, a wave is formed. That this may happen, the ocean must be one of wide extent. In the vast seas which surround the Southern Pole there is room for an immensely powerful ‘drag,’ so to speak; for always there will be one part of these seas much nearer to the moon than the rest, and so there will be an appreciable difference of pull upon that part.

The reader will now see why I have been so careful to ascertain the limits of the supposed north-polar ocean, in which, according to Captain Maury, tidal waves are generated. To accord with his views, this ocean must be surrounded on all sides by impassable barriers either of land or ice. These barriers, then, must lie to the northward of the regions yet explored, for there is open sea communicating with the Pacific all round the north of Asia and America. It only requires a moment’s inspection of a terrestrial globe to see how small a space is thus left for Captain Maury’s land-locked ocean. I have purposely left out of consideration, as yet, the advances made by arctic voyagers in the direction of the sea which lies between Greenland and Spitzbergen. We shall presently see that on this side the imaginary land-locked ocean must be more limited than towards the shores of Asia or America. As it is, however, it remains clear, that if there were any ocean communicating with the spot reached by Dr. Kane, but separated from all communication—by open water—either with the Atlantic or with the Pacific, that ocean would be so limited in extent that the moon’s attraction could exert no more effective influence upon its waters than upon the waters of the Mediterranean—where, as we know, no tides are generated. This, then, would be a tideless ocean, and we must look elsewhere for an explanation of the tidal waves seen by Dr. Kane.