CHAPTER XXIV.

RETURN OF THE NORTHERN DIVISION.

"Is not short payne well borne, that brings long ease, And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grace? Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas, Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please."

_Faërie Queene._

At three o'clock on the afternoon of the 13th of May the homeward march was commenced, our main object, of course, being to get back to the ship as speedily as possible.

Before starting, a couple of records, inclosed in two tin cases, were deposited on the floe. One was placed as near the centre of the floe as possible, the other was secured on the top of a hummock.

On the records was stated the latitude and longitude of the position, together with a few words regarding the condition of the party. If these are ever picked up it will be very interesting and important, as throwing light on the drift or tide in these high latitudes.

It is unnecessary to describe the incidents that occurred on each successive day during the return journey. Day by day did our strength diminish. Gradually, but surely, the men, one after the other, began to feel the cruel grasp of the disease, as they struggled manfully on, dragging their poor, helpless companions, in spite of racking pains and aching limbs. Although themselves attacked by the dreadful malady, the men who were still able to work suppressed their own sufferings in their endeavours to ameliorate those of their more helpless and ailing comrades. Unmindful of their own miserable plight, they devoted themselves to the tender and soothing functions of nurses with a thoughtful and careful tenderness that would have done credit even to those of the weaker sex.

Often had the same road to be traversed, as the sledges were advanced one at a time, and most fortunate was it that we were able to adhere to the road constructed during our outward journey. To do so, however, during the thick weather which constantly prevailed, was a task of great difficulty and very trying to the eyes; but we knew that if by ill-luck we should wander away and lose it, our chances of ever seeing the ship again would be poor indeed! The hours selected for travelling were between 6 P.M. and 6 A.M. By choosing this part of the day, or rather night, for working, we kept the sun as much as possible at our backs, and slept during the warmth of the day. Towards the end of May, although the temperature of the outside air was below the freezing point, the sun was so powerful that it would raise the temperature inside our tent, whilst we were sleeping, to as much as 70° or 80°, which would be quite unbearable! Frost-bites had become a thing of the past, and were no longer dreaded. The temperature did not rise above the freezing point until the month of June.

Snow fell heavily during the greater part of the return journey, and fogs were very prevalent. Gales of wind had to be endured, for to halt was out of the question--rest there was none--onward was the order of the day.

As the disease gradually assumed the mastery over the party, so did the appetites decrease, and in a very alarming manner, until it was with the greatest difficulty that anybody could be induced to eat at all. Instead of each man disposing of one pound of pemmican a day, the same quantity sufficed for the entire party in one tent; and even this, occasionally, was not consumed. Nor was the subject of eating and drinking so often discussed. During the outward journey, beefsteaks and onions, mutton chops and new potatoes, and Bass's beer formed the chief topics of conversation. On the return journey they were scarcely alluded to. Hunger was never felt; but we were all assailed by an intolerable thirst, which could only be appeased at meal times, or after the temperature was sufficiently high to admit of quenching our thirst by putting icicles into our mouths.

Aching bones and sleepless nights were the chief causes of our sufferings.

With all these hardships it was a great comfort to be able to put on dry foot gear. If it was fine when we encamped, our blanket wrappers and hose were spread out on the tent in the sun, so that when we got up they were not only dry, but _not frozen_, and were, therefore, limp and supple!

On the 17th of May we again, strange to say, crossed the track of a hare, being at the time about twenty-five miles from the nearest land. Like the track before seen, the footsteps were close together, indicating that the poor little creature was in a very exhausted state. Although the traces were very indistinct, they appeared to be going in a northerly direction.

Though our travelling was slow, we could see a perceptible decrease in the distance between ourselves and the land, whenever the weather was fine enough for us to observe it. "Old Joe," as the men irreverently termed Cape Joseph Henry, loomed nearer and darker, and we all regarded it with anxious, longing eyes.

On the 18th of May the first icicles were observed hanging from the edges of a few hummocks--a sure sign of the returning power of the sun.

Ominous symptoms of a disruption of the pack were seen on the same day, and again on the following one. A crack in some ice had opened considerably since we last passed over it, whilst small hummocks had been formed by the pressure of two floes, one against the other. These little indications made matters assume a still more serious aspect. They may have been due to tidal action, but they were undoubtedly warnings to get off the pack as speedily as possible.

On the 20th the snow crystals that fell actually melted on coming into contact with our clothes or any dark substance. These crystals were all of a beautiful stellar shape. A hummock passed, although composed, apparently, of one piece of ice, was of two different colours, a deep blue and a pale yellow. Portions of each were broken off for the purpose of testing their respective specific gravities, and also to carry back to the ship for analysis. In all probability the discolouration was caused by the presence of diatomaceæ. The hummocks, at about this date, began to assume a different appearance, the mild weather depriving them of their snowy covering, and causing them to lose much of their former resemblance to gigantic wedding cakes!

The men began to have an inkling of the nature of the disease from which they were suffering, although we studiously avoided all mention of it. It went with them by the name of the "Joseph Henry mange!" Their spirits were wonderful, and they joked each other as they hobbled along. Their lameness they called the "Marco Polo limp," and declared on their return to England they would introduce it as the fashionable gait!

Nothing appeared to subdue their courage or their zeal. Orders were always executed with the utmost willingness and good humour, and with as much alacrity as they were capable of evincing.

The men having heard that tea-leaves had been recommended as a good _vegetable_, the contents of the tea-kettle, after lunch and supper, were carefully collected, and devoured with avidity; but there is little faith, I fear, to be placed in their efficacy for warding off or subduing our terrible complaint.

Instead of our sledge loads appearing to diminish in weight as the provisions were consumed, they seemed to drag heavier, and we were at a loss whether to attribute this to the depth and softness of the snow over which we travelled, or to the increasing weakness of our party! It was hard work, and as much as we could do to make any progress at all. The men experienced great difficulty in moving their legs, the slightest exertion caused intense pain, and it was a piteous sight to witness them struggling bravely on, without uttering a murmur or complaint. They all knew that their only hope of safety was to get back to the ship as speedily as possible.

The 24th of May being the Queen's birthday, all the flags and banners were displayed during the short time we halted for lunch, and her Majesty's health was drunk by her most northern and not least loyal subjects. On that day, amongst the entire party, we could only muster four and a half good and sound pairs of legs! Still even those with "game legs" stuck to the drag-ropes nobly, and if they were unable to render much assistance, still the drag-ropes acted as a support, and therefore enabled them to keep up.

On the 25th the eighty-third parallel of latitude was recrossed.

The comparatively high temperature caused the snow over which we journeyed to assume a "sludgy" consistency, which clung tenaciously to our legs and to the sledge runners, rendering the work of dragging and walking all the more laborious.

On the 27th the condition of the party was so critical that it became only too painfully evident that, to insure their reaching the land alive, the sledges must be considerably lightened in order to admit of a more rapid advance. The state of the party was on that day as follows: five men were in a very precarious condition, utterly unable to move, and consequently had to be carried on the sledges; five others nearly as bad, but who nobly persisted in hobbling after the sledges, which they could just manage to accomplish, for, as the sledges had to be advanced one by one, it gave them plenty of time to perform the distance; whilst three others exhibited all the premonitory scorbutic symptoms. Thus only the two officers and two men[1] could be considered as effective! This was, it must be acknowledged, a very deplorable state of affairs.

I therefore decided to abandon the remaining boat, which would materially lessen the load to be dragged. This decision was only arrived at after long and anxious consideration. I had to decide which was the lesser of two evils.

For I well knew that should a disruption of the pack occur, and we had already observed ominous signs of such an event, without a boat the party would indeed be placed in a hopeless position; but again I knew that in retaining the boat, the weights to be dragged by our weakened crew would be so excessive as to preclude the possibility of reaching the shore before all the provisions would be expended, and starvation would be the result. Again it was of the utmost importance that haste should be made in order to reach the ship, and place the sick under proper medical treatment. The disease was extending so rapidly as to produce a marked change for the worse every day. The boat, therefore, and all superfluous weights were abandoned, and the march was again wearily resumed.

Many a silent prayer was offered up to God to protect and watch over us, for we felt, indeed, that we were in dire distress, and that without His aid and assistance we must perish; and we prayed for strength to enable us to drag our poor helpless and suffering companions to a place of safety. A record was left in the deserted boat, containing a brief account of our state and condition, with the latitude and longitude where it was abandoned.

On the following day great excitement was caused by the appearance of a snow bunting, which was seen fluttering about amongst the hummocks, uttering its sweet and pleasant chirp, which to us was the most pleasing music we had heard for many a long day. No wonder the sudden appearance amongst us of this little warbler was so interesting, for it was the first bird we had seen for nine long months. Even the invalids, as they lay on the sledges, requested that they might have their faces uncovered, so as both to see and hear the little friend that had flown off to us, as if it were a messenger to welcome our party back to life and friends. Long and anxiously was it watched as it winged its course towards the land, whither we also were slowly wending our way.

On the 29th the colours were again displayed at lunch time, in commemoration of the first anniversary of our sailing from England, and allusions were made to that ever-memorable day, comparisons being drawn between our condition then and now! On that evening our tents were pitched close to the boat that we had abandoned on our outward journey, and which we found exactly in the same state as when we left it, with its mast stepped and yard hoisted, standing out like a grim sentinel guarding those icy wastes.

On the 31st, whilst crossing some young ice between two heavy floes, one of the sledges broke through, and we had no little trouble in saving it from complete immersion, and the invalid who was on it from being drowned! These warnings were unmistakeable, and pointed to the necessity of reaching the land as quickly as possible. The falling snow and drift thawed upon our clothes, making us wet and extremely wretched and uncomfortable.

On the 1st of June the temperature was some two or three degrees above freezing point. This had the effect of thawing the surface snow and converting it into a thick sludge. Our foot gear in consequence was in a soaking wet state. Our working force on this day was reduced to six, and all suffering more or less.

On the 2nd the thick weather, which had so persistently clung to us, proved triumphant and robbed us of our road. Up to this date we had been able to avail ourselves of the road constructed with so much trouble and labour on our outward journey. On this day we wandered off it, and in spite of our efforts were unable to pick up the trail again. The severe and monotonous labour of road-making had again to be resorted to. On the 5th, to our very great joy, we succeeded once more in pitching our camp on _terra firma_, after an absence from it of two months. On first landing our hopes were excited on observing the recent traces of a sledge and human footprints, and we congratulated ourselves upon soon obtaining that relief we all so much required; but we were doomed to disappointment, for on reaching the depôt of provisions established near Cape Joseph Henry for our use, and which was found intact, we learnt that a sledge party with Captain Nares had left for the ship only two days previously! This was a bitter blow, for we knew that something more than provisions was needed for the safety of the party.

We learnt also that scurvy had made its appearance on board the "Alert," and that poor Petersen died from the effects of his last sledge journey, on the 14th of May.

Three hares had been kindly and thoughtfully left for us in a crevice amongst the hummocks by Captain Nares, and this furnished us with meals for a couple of days; it is needless to add, they were done ample justice to, not only for the sake of their goodness and the change they afforded, but also because we thought the fresh meat would act as a specific against the scurvy.

The tracks of a wolf were observed near the depôt, and the animal was frequently heard howling in a mournful manner, but we never saw it.

Obtaining a few supplies from the depôt, our march was again resumed; but so rapid had been the encroachments of the disease, that it was only too palpable that immediate succour was absolutely necessary for our salvation. At the rate of progress we were making, it would take us fully three weeks to reach the ship, although only forty miles distant; and who would there be left in three weeks' time? The few who were still strong enough to drag the sledges would barely last as many days! Assistance had, therefore, to be obtained. To procure it, one amongst us was ready and willing to set out on this lonely and solitary mission, with the firm reliance of being able to accomplish what he had undertaken, and with the knowledge that he possessed the full confidence of those for whose relief he was about to start on a long and hazardous walk. On the 7th of June Lieut. Parr started on his arduous march to the ship. Deep and heartfelt were the God-speeds uttered as he took his departure, and anxiously was his retreating form watched until it was gradually lost to sight amidst the interminable hummocks.

"All waste! no sign of life But the track of the wolf and the bear! No sound but the wild, wild wind, And the snow crunching under his feet."

Although the loss of one strong man, like Parr, from the party was seriously felt, still the knowledge that active steps had been taken to procure aid was sufficient to compensate for this reduction in our strength, and the men gallantly persevered at the drag-ropes, buoyed up by renewed hopes.

On the day previous to that on which Parr left, an Eskimo dog, to our great surprise, was seen threading its way to us through the hummocks. It was soon recognized to be one of our dogs, named Flo; but she was so timid that at first nothing would induce her to approach. After a little time, however, we coaxed her to us, and on having some pemmican thrown to her she ate it ravenously. Poor thing! she was wretchedly thin and emaciated; she, we concluded, had been cast adrift, or made her escape from the last dog-sledge that visited this neighbourhood. She joined our tail of cripples, hobbling, like them, after us and carefully walking in the track of our sledges.

On the 8th of June sadness and despondency prevailed amongst our little band. One of our number had received that summons to which all must at some time attend, and had been called to his long account.

"His soul to Him who gave it rose. God led it to its long repose-- Its glorious rest."

This was a terrible and unexpected blow to many who regarded themselves as being in a still more critical and precarious condition than was poor Porter. His end was calm and peaceful, and he retained his senses to within five minutes of the time of dissolution.

Sad and mournful, indeed, was the small procession that wended its way slowly to the new-made grave, dug out of a frozen soil, carrying the lifeless remains of their comrade, covered with the Union Jack, on the same sledge on which he had been dragged, whilst alive, for many weeks; and there, with the tears trickling down their weather-beaten and smoke-begrimed faces, with their hearts so full as to choke all utterance, they laid their late fellow-sufferer in his last resting-place.

A rude cross, improvised out of the rough materials that our own equipment supplied, with a brief inscription, marks the lone and dreary spot in that far-off icy desert where rests our comrade in his long sleep that knows no waking, and where probably human foot will never again tread.

"O World! so few the years we live, Would that the life that thou dost give Were life indeed! Alas! thy sorrows fall so fast, Our happiest hour is when at last The soul is freed."

Gladly, after the ceremony was concluded, was the order to renew the march received, every one being desirous of quitting a place so fraught with sad and melancholy associations; the day, as if in unison with the state of our own thoughts and feelings, was dull and gloomy.

The late mournful event produced a despondency in our little band to which we had hitherto been strangers.

One and all felt and knew that assistance, to be of any avail, must arrive speedily, and many a wistful glance was directed towards the south, in the faint hope of seeing that succour without which they would surely perish. They felt more their own weakness and helplessness, and dreaded a recurrence of what had recently taken place. The journey was silently and wearily resumed.

As many of the men were unable to eat their pemmican, on account of the soreness of their gums, and from a certain dislike that they had lately taken to it, a new "dish" was tried, consisting of preserved potatoes mixed with bacon fat, and although in flavour, if any was perceptible, it rather resembled what starch might be like, it was decidedly acceptable as a change, and each person consumed about two-thirds of a pannikin.

On the morning of the 9th a rainbow was seen, which, being an unusual sight, afforded much interest. On the same day, shortly after the march had been commenced, a moving object was suddenly seen amidst the hummocks to the southward. At first it was regarded as an optical illusion, for we could scarcely realize the fact that it could be anybody from the "Alert!" With what intense anxiety this object was regarded is beyond description.

Gradually emerging from the hummocks, a hearty cheer put an end to the suspense that was almost agonizing, as a dog-sledge with three men was seen to be approaching. A cheer in return was attempted, but so full were our hearts that it resembled more a wail than a cheer.

It is impossible to describe our feelings as May and Moss came up, and we received from them a warm and hearty welcome. We felt that we were saved, and a feeling of thankfulness and gratitude was uppermost in our minds, as we shook the hands of those who had hurried out to our relief the moment that Parr had conveyed to them intelligence of our distress. Those who a few short moments before were in the lowest depths of despondency, appeared now in the most exuberant spirits. Pain was disregarded and hardships were forgotten as numerous and varied questions were asked and answered.

We heard with delight that they were only the vanguard of a larger party, headed by Captain Nares himself, that was coming out to our relief, and which we should probably meet on the following day. A halt was immediately ordered, cooking utensils lighted up, ice made into water, and we were soon all enjoying a good pannikin full of lime-juice, with the prospect of mutton for supper!

After halting for the night Moss made a thorough medical inspection of the whole party. His report was by no means cheering: all were more or less affected, and some were in a very precarious condition. The presence, however, of a medical officer amongst us restored confidence, and acted as a powerful antiscorbutic!

On the following day we met the larger party coming out to our assistance, and with their help arrived alongside the "Alert" on the 14th of June, seventy-two days after our departure from the ship.

What a contrast did that departure afford to our return!

Then, on that bright but cold April morning, all were in the highest spirits, cheerful and enthusiastic, looking forward with confidence to a comparatively successful issue to their undertaking--a fine, strong, and resolute band.

Alas! how different was the return! Out of that party of fifteen men, one had gone to his long home, eleven others were carried alongside the ship on sledges dragged by a party despatched to their relief, and only the remaining three were capable of walking.[2] Even they were scarcely able to move one leg before the other, and were, on their return, placed with the others under the doctor's hands. It was, indeed, a sad and terrible calamity with which we had been afflicted, totally unexpected and unparalleled in the annals of Arctic sledging experiences. On our arrival alongside the ship, we were, of course, most warmly welcomed by every soul on board; before entering Captain Nares called for three cheers for our party, and then offered up thanks to Almighty God for having preserved us through many dangers and privations, and for guiding us back to our ship without further loss of life.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] John Radmore, chief carpenter's mate, and William Maskell, able seaman.

[2] Radmore, Jolliffe, and Maskell.