CHAPTER IX.

OUR ARCTIC EXPEDITIONS.

The Latest Arctic Expedition—Scene at Portsmouth—Departure of the _Alert_ and _Discovery_—Few Expeditions really ever pointed to the Pole—What we know of the Regions—Admitted and unadmitted Records—Dutch Yarns—A Claimant at the Pole—Life with the Esquimaux—A Solitary Journey—Northmen Colony—The Adventurer kindly treated—Their King—Sun-worshippers—Believers in an Arctic Hell—The Mastodon not extinct—Domesticated Walruses—The whole story a nonsensical _Canard_.

On the afternoon of May 29th, 1875, the old town of Portsmouth presented in an unusual degree that gala aspect which it can so readily assume at short notice. It is true that it was the official anniversary of Her Majesty’s birthday, and a military review had been announced; but granting full credit to the loyalty of Hants, there was still something to be explained, for visitors had crowded into the town by tens and tens of thousands, and the jetties, piers, and shores presented the aspect of a popular holiday, so lined were they with well-dressed and evidently expectant masses of people. The shipping in the harbour and out to Spithead displayed the flags of the whole signalling code, while from the flag-posts of every public, and hundreds of private, buildings, the coastguard stations, forts, and piers, depended a perfect wealth of bunting. What was the cause of this enthusiasm?

In the dockyard a quieter scene explained the reason. Two vessels, of no great size, and which at any other time would not have attracted special attention, were lying, with full steam up and bows pointed to the stream, ready for immediate departure. They bore the names of the _Alert_ and _Discovery_, and were about to start on a prolonged Arctic voyage. On the jetty the relatives and friends of some 120 officers and blue-jackets were assembled to bid the last farewell, the last God-speed to men about to encounter many known and unknown dangers in a field of action where peril is the daily concomitant of existence. We can well believe that the fate of Franklin and his gallant band—in numbers almost literally identical with the two ships’ companies about to depart—_would_ recur to the minds of some, and that many a mother prayed that night, and later—

“O Heaven, my child in mercy spare! O God, where’er he be; O God, my God, in pity spare My boy to-night at sea!”

We shall not attempt to depict a scene familiar to all who have voyaged or who know much of seaport life, although this was a special case.

“A sailor’s life must be Spent away on the far, far sea, And little of him his wife may see,”

Sings Dr. Bennett; and the partings were not confined to mother or wife, but were shared by many a father, brother, sister, and sweetheart, who were nevertheless proud of the service in which their sailor-boy was to be engaged. Still prouder were they as, at four o’clock, the vessels steamed out of the harbour; “such cheers upon cheers rent the air” as, said our leading journal, “were never before heard in Portsmouth,” while “an unbroken mass of waving hats and fluttering handkerchiefs” extended on the jetties, piers, and shore away to and beyond the breakwater. The ships of war and the training ship _St. Vincent_ presented a sight not soon to be forgotten, covered as they were by living masses from bulwarks to sky-sail yards of actual and embryo comrades in the service, delighting to honour these adventurous men, departing for unknown seas and for an unknown period of time. If there were any of those croakers present who tell us that the service has gone to the dogs, and that the “true British sailor” is no more, they must have been silenced; while the enthusiasm of those who had come from far and near to witness the departure of the expedition was but one more example of that special interest always displayed by England in all matters pertaining to geographical discovery. The same love of adventure, and the spirit to do and dare, which characterise our voyagers and travellers, permeates very largely the masses of those who stay at home, for they are Britons still.

The expedition, under the command of Captain Nares, the departure of which we have briefly described, was, as we all know, distinctly organised for the exploration of the polar region, and with the hope of reaching the North Pole itself. One point in this connection is often overlooked, thereby leading to grave mistake, and it may fairly be considered before entering upon the narration of this Arctic voyage. There are those among us who, being “nothing if not practical,” aver that too many voyages have been instigated for the discovery of the North Pole, which is to them a worthless aim. The answer to such croakers is direct. Of the hundreds of expeditions, British and foreign, despatched to the Arctic regions, very few indeed have been organised for that discovery, or even for the exploration of the polar region proper. Those instituted with that special object, as will be hereafter shown, scarcely exceed a dozen in number. Strange as it may seem, commerce was for a long period almost the only motive for Arctic exploration. The larger part of the earlier attempts at north-west and north-east passages were instigated with the distinct object of reaching the Orient—China, India, and the Spice Islands—for commercial purposes, by what seems now-a-days a most roundabout if not utterly ridiculous manner, but which at the time appeared quite comprehensible and defensible. The rich productions of the countries named in those days reached us overland; and not till the very close of the fifteenth century, when Vasco di Gama doubled the Cape of Good Hope, was a comparatively easy sea-route found to Eastern Asia. The opening of extensive fisheries, the fur-trade, reported mineral discoveries, and, in a limited degree, colonisation, have been among the main causes in bygone days of hundreds of Arctic voyages, the organisers whereof cared nothing for the North Pole. The many Arctic expeditions of the present century have been mainly instituted for geographical discovery and scientific research; and, as we all know, a number of them would not have had their being but for the sad tragedy which involved the search for Franklin and his ill-starred companions. Now-a-days, indeed, as the writer has elsewhere said,(11) “we have no need for an icy route to Cathaia; we have no expectation of commercial advantage from the exploration of the North Pole.” The solution of a most important geographical problem was the aim of Captain Nares’ expedition, as it was that of _several_, but _not_, as will be proved, that of _many_ previous ones. If it ever is to be done, England should do it.

It will be interesting, and somewhat important, to note briefly, before entering on the consideration of the great Arctic voyages, just how much and how little we know about the polar region proper. The undiscovered region covers an area of scarcely less than a million and a half square miles; while between explored points on either side it is in certain directions as much as 1,500 miles across. Parry, in 1827, reached by a mixed boat and sledge journey as high a latitude as 82° 45’ N., while Captain Hall, the American, succeeded in _taking his vessel_, in 1871, as high as 82° 16’ N. in Smith’s Sound. As we shall hereafter see, both these exploits have now been beaten by the expedition under Captain (now Sir George S.) Nares. In general terms, we may say that the vast tract between 70° and 80° of north latitude has been pretty thoroughly explored on the European and American sides of the polar region, while much less is known of the same latitudes on the Asiatic side. How much of the in-lying region is land, or how far covered with water, has yet to be determined. In spite of the very positive utterances of many explorers and scientists, all we really know is that there _is_ much open water, or at all events ice-covered water, and that it _may_ extend to the Pole. No weight whatever can be attached to the once popular “open polar sea” theory, which rested principally on the statements of those who had, after reaching given points, been unable to see anything but open water before them. How would that wiseacre be esteemed, who, looking seaward from different parts of our coast, saw nought but ocean, and thereon immediately built a theory that no land existed in the direction of his gaze? America must be swept from _his_ map entirely, while even Continental Europe would have a poor chance—except on a fine day, and even then from but a few points of our south coast.

Whilst the claims of Parry, Hall, and Nares, as the three explorers who have approached nearer the Pole than any others, must be admitted by all authorities, we may note _en passant_ that other and stronger claims have been put forth in days gone by. The Hon. Daines Barrington, somewhat of an authority in his day, read before the Royal Society, late in the last century, a series of papers devoted to polar subjects,(12) in which he records the cases of whalers and others who were said to have almost reached the North Pole. He cites with some substantiatory evidence the case of a Dutch ship-of-war, superintending the Greenland fisheries, which had reached the latitude of 88° N., or within 120 miles of the Pole. He gives the case of an English captain—one Johnson, or Monson (Buffon records the same case)—who had also reached 88° N. He further offers us the “Relation of Two Dutch Masters” to one Captain Goulden, who asserted that they had reached 89°, and caps the climax with a “Dutch relation” to a Mr. Grey, in which the Hollander claims to have been within half a degree (thirty geographical miles) of the Pole. These claims were seriously discussed at the time, and were not put forward by an ignorant or careless writer. Nevertheless, no credit is given to them by present Arctic authorities, although they would seem to deserve some little examination and attention.

One other claim to the discovery of a continent immediately surrounding the North Pole remains to be considered, albeit not seriously. It has been very naturally ignored here, but was calmly discussed some years since in America, where it was first published. The present writer presents it in a condensed form simply as a novelty; it is only too evidently a sailor’s “yarn,” invented by some one familiar with Arctic works, or possibly with the Arctic regions themselves. But as it will serve to enliven our narrative at this juncture, the reader will pardon its introduction.

The editor of the following narrative commences by stating that a log, squared and much water-soaked, was found floating in Hudson’s Bay in the year 1866 by an American sailor. On examination, a small piece of wood was discovered to be morticed in its side, and this being picked out, a manuscript, written on skin sewn together with sinews, was found enclosed in a seal-skin cover. The story inscribed on it was in substance as follows. The writer begins by stating that he has discovered a new continent at the Pole. Being desirous of leaving England, he had shipped before the mast on the _Erebus_, under the command of Sir John Franklin. He had done so under an assumed name, his true name being William North. Describing briefly the events preceding Franklin’s death, he goes on to say that they abandoned the ships in April, 1848, Captain Crozier hoping to reach Hudson’s Bay (Territory is meant, presumably), their provisions being exhausted. All but himself perished, and he lay on the snow insensible till rescued by some Esquimaux, with whom he lived for several years. From observations he became convinced there was a habitable land further north. The birds and animals often came in large numbers from that direction, and then suddenly returned. The Indians all had a superstitious fear of going far north, and none who did so were ever seen again. It was supposed that they perished of cold and starvation; but more than one old Esquimaux told him that they were killed by the inhabitants beyond the mountains.

“As I could never get back to England,” says he, “even if I had desired, I concluded to push to the north, and reach the North Pole or perish in the attempt.” No one would go with him, so he went alone, taking two dogs and a boat which he had rigged on runners. The Indians said that he would never return.

“This was on the Greenland shore, as far north as the ice mountains, known to navigators as the glaciers. [‘Ice rivers’ would be the more appropriate term; but the story is evidently written by a half-educated man.] It was the early spring of 1860, according to my reckoning; the season was the most favourable I had ever seen, and in two months I must have travelled fully six hundred miles, myself and the dogs living on game and seals killed by the way.

“My theory was that I should suddenly emerge into a warm and fertile country as soon as I should reach the point at which, according to all the books, the earth was flattened, and on which the sun in summer never sets. It seemed to me that if the sun should remain for six months above the horizon, without any nights, the effect would be to give a very warm climate. I had a good silver watch, of which I had always taken the greatest care, and I kept a record of every day, so that I should not lose my reckoning. I will not dwell on the perils and privations of my journey, except to say that with streaming eyes I had killed my faithful dogs to save me from starvation, when on the 20th of June, 1860, according to my calendar, I passed out of a crevice or gorge between two great walls of ice, just in time to escape death from a falling mass larger than a ship, into an open space of table-land, from which I could see below me, and stretching away as far as the eye could reach, a land more beautiful than England or any other country I had ever seen.”

The narrator says that his feelings becoming calmer after the surprise he had experienced, he descended the mountain, at the foot of which was a village, where the people were celebrating a festival or carnival. Overcome by the heat and excitement, he fainted, and some time afterwards found himself closely guarded in the house of some priests, where, however, he was kindly treated. The curious things which he had in his possession convinced them that their prisoner was worth keeping alive. He explained their use by signs, in which they were greatly interested. The watch pleased them the most, and they easily understood the division of time. When he drew a figure of the earth, with the parallels of latitude and longitude, pointing out the positions of the various countries, including their own, they were greatly astonished, and treated him with increased kindness.

He was taken before their chief—the Jarl—who lives in a stone palace, built as solidly as the pyramids. “Glass is unknown, and curtains or draperies take its place in the windows. Oil-lamps are used, except in the palaces of the nobility and in public places, where an electric light, much brighter than gas, is substituted.” Precious stones, gold, and silver, abound. “The Jarl drives out with four large moose, or mastodon, attached to his chariot, which are harnessed in pairs, the inside horns of each being cut so that they will not interlock. His pleasure barge is drawn by walruses.” Barges and boats were commonly drawn by domesticated seals and walruses. Their arts and productions are described in detail, and are about the same as those of Northern Europe a thousand years ago. The people are numerous, and live in peace and happiness. The sun is their great spirit; shut in by eternal snow and ice, although their own climate is not very severe, they naturally look upon cold as the essence of all that is evil, and ice as its embodiment. When the genial rays of the sun disperse the ice and snow they worship and rejoice. And carrying out the same idea, the infernal regions are stated to be cold, not hot. We all remember the worthy divine in the north of Scotland, who knowing that he could not terrify his shivering congregation by depicting the terrors of fire, painted in its place an Arctic Hell. So Dante, in “The Divine Comedy,” makes the frozen Lake of Cocytus a place where the traitors to kindred and country endure a new torment. So again Shakespeare, in the well-known soliloquy—

“Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the de-lighted(13) spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbèd ice.”

The narrator goes on to say that it is usual to make ice idols or ice demons for their carnivals; and ice palaces like those often constructed in Russia are also common in winter. He further says that Greenland extends to the Pole and far beyond it, and ends his narrative by stating that at the date on which he writes—May 22nd, 1861—he had been eleven months on the polar continent, and had no desire to leave it.

So much for a _canard_, amusing at least from the mock earnestness of the writer. But that a detached colony of descendants from the Northmen _might_ be found at some more distant point of Greenland with which we are at present not familiar, is at least possible, and that the climate of the Pole is comparatively temperate has been the belief of some authorities, although, most assuredly, the intense cold experienced by the expedition under Captain Nares at the high latitude attained will not bear out the assertion.