CHAPTER XVII.

THE EXPEDITIONS OF ROSS AND PARRY.

Remarkable Change in the Greenland Ice-fields—Immense Icebergs found out of their Latitude—Ross the First’s Expedition—Festivities among the Danes—Interviews with Esquimaux—Crimson Snow—A Mythical Discovery—The Croker Mountains—Buchan’s Expedition—Bursting of Icebergs—Effects of Concussion—The Creation of an Iceberg—Spitzbergen in Summer—Animated Nature—Millions of Birds—Refuge in an Ice-pack—Parry and his Exploits—His Noble Character—First Arctic Voyage—Sails over the Croker Mountains.

The long series of interesting voyages which have been made to the Arctic regions during the present century were commenced in 1818, after a considerable period of inaction and apathy had existed in regard to northern exploration. The renewal of these attempts was not brought about by accident or caprice, but was due to a great change, which had been noted by many whalers and navigators. Sir John Barrow, one of the most consistent and persistent advocates of Arctic exploration, as well as one of the most intelligent writers of his day, says: “The event alluded to was the disappearance of the whole, or greater part, of the vast barrier of ice which for a long period of time—perhaps for centuries—was supposed to have maintained its firm-rooted position on the eastern coast of Old Greenland, and its reappearance in a more southerly latitude, where it was met with, as was attested by various persons worthy of credit, in the years 1815, 1816, and 1817, by ships coming from the East Indies and America, by others going to Halifax and Newfoundland, and in different parts of the Atlantic, as far down as the 40th parallel of latitude.” Large islands of ice had impeded some voyagers for days together; icebergs miles in extent, and from one to two hundred feet high, had been reported. A vessel had been beset for eleven days on the coast of Labrador in floes of ice mixed with icebergs, many of which had huge rocks, gravel, soil, and wood upon them. In short, there was so much testimony from various sources to the vast break-up which had occurred that it created a great deal of attention among scientific men and navigators.

It was perfectly understood whence the larger part of this ice must be derived. Scoresby the younger, in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, recorded the fact that some 18,000 square miles of the surface of the Greenland seas included between the parallels of 74° and 80° were known to be void of ice, and that this immense change had been effected within two years. Intelligence received at Copenhagen in 1816 from Iceland indicated that the ice had broken loose from the opposite coast of Greenland, and floated away to the southward, after surrounding the shores of Iceland and filling all the creeks and bays of that island. This was repeated in 1817.

The public notice taken of the above facts led to two expeditions being ordered, the first of which, under Commander (afterwards Sir) John Ross, was remarkable for the number of officers who accompanied it, and who, later, acquired distinction in the Arctic explorations of this century. Parry, J. C. Ross (the commander’s nephew), Sabine (long President of the Royal Society, and a most distinguished _savan_), then a captain of the Royal Artillery, Hoppner, and others, were among the number. The ships employed were the _Isabella_ and _Alexander_, and the commander’s instructions were to attempt the north-west passage by the western route.

On the 1st of June, 1818, they had reached the eastern side of Davis’s Strait, but detained by ice, and it was not till the 3rd of the following month that they arrived at the Women’s Islands. The delay did not prevent them from having some pleasant intercourse with the Danes and Esquimaux of the Greenland settlements. Extempore balls were organised, where their interpreter, Jack Sackhouse (or Saccheous), was of great value. Jack combined in his person the somewhat discordant qualifications of seaman, interpreter, draughtsman, and master of ceremonies, with those of a fisher of seals and a successful hunter of white bears.

A favourable breeze sprang up, and Ross was anxious to leave, as the ice began to separate. Jack had gone ashore, and when a boat was sent for him he was found in one of the huts with his collar-bone broken, from having greatly overloaded and discharged his gun. His idea was, as he expressed it, “Plenty powder, plenty kill!” Proceeding northward, and passing many whalers, he examined and named Melville Bay. On August 10th, the ships being at anchor near shore, eight sledges of Esquimaux were observed, and Saccheous was despatched with a flag and some presents in order to parley with them, they being on one side of a field of ice, in which was a canal or chasm. After much shouting and gesticulating, Saccheous held out his presents, and called to them in their own language to approach. The reply was “No, no; go away!” and one man said, “Go away; I can kill you!” holding up a knife. The interpreter, however, threw them an English knife, which they accepted, and _pulled their noses_, which Ross represents to mean a sign of friendship. They soon became more familiar, and pointing to the ships, asked, “What great creatures these are. Do they come from the sun or the moon? Do they give us light by day or by night?” To which Saccheous replied, “They are houses made of wood.” The natives would not believe this, answering, “No, they are alive; we have seen them move their wings.” Ross entitles these natives the “Arctic Highlanders.” There is a good deal of rather doubtful matter in the narrative of Ross, and it is certainly more than likely that these people had often seen whale-ships.

Not far from Cape Dudley Digges Ross observed some of the cliffs covered with the _crimson_ snow often mentioned in other Arctic narratives, and indeed noted by Saussure in the Alps. “This snow,” he says, “was penetrated even down to the rock, in many places to a depth of ten or twelve feet, by colouring matter.” Some of this having been bottled, was analysed on their return by Mr. Brande, the celebrated chemist, who, detecting uric acid, pronounced it to be no other than the excrement of birds. Other authorities considered it to be of vegetable origin, judging it to be probably the drainage from some particular kind of moss, the roots of which are of that colour.

The results of this voyage were not extensive. Ross only reached Sir James Lancaster’s Sound, where an imaginary discovery of his has since given rise to much ridicule. He fancied that he saw at the bottom of a bay an extensive range of mountains, the which he somewhat unfortunately named after Mr. Croker, the then Secretary of the Admiralty. The site of the Croker Mountains was a year afterwards sailed over by Parry! It is certain that either clouds, mirage, or some other phenomenon of nature, had misled him. A very similar fact was noted by Captain Nares in his expedition.

The second of the two expeditions was that performed under the command of Captain David Buchan, who had associated with him a number of officers, including John Franklin, Frederick Beechey, and George Back, who afterwards distinguished themselves in various branches of the Arctic service. Buchan himself was a first-rate navigator, particularly well acquainted with the dangers of the northern seas, more especially on the Newfoundland station. He had also made a remarkable journey across the ice and snow of that island in order to communicate with the natives, and was the first European who had so done. Subsequent to the expedition about to be recorded, he lost his life on the _Upton Castle_, a vessel making the voyage from India, and the exact fate of which was never known.

The two vessels employed on this service were the _Dorothea_ and the _Trent_. The instructions directed Buchan to proceed to the northward, between Spitzbergen and Greenland, without delay on the way, and use his best endeavours to reach the North Pole or its neighbourhood. On May 24th the expedition had reached Cherie Island, on the coasts of which the walruses were so numerous that at about that period as many as 900 or 1,000 had been captured by the crew of a single vessel in seven hours’ time. Many interesting traits of walrus character—if the expression may be used—were observed on this expedition. “We were greatly amused,” says Captain Beechey, the historian of the voyage, “by the singular and affectionate conduct of a walrus towards its young. In the vast sheet of ice that surrounded the ships there were occasionally many pools, and when the weather was clear and warm, animals of various kinds would frequently rise and sport about in them, or crawl from thence upon the ice to bask in the warmth of the sun. A walrus rose in one of these pools close to the ship, and finding everything quiet, dived down and brought up its young, which it held by its breast by pressing it with its flipper. In this manner it moved about the pool, keeping in an erect posture, and always directing the face of the young towards the vessel. On the slightest movement on board the mother released her flipper and pushed the young one under water, but when everything was again quiet, brought it up as before, and for a length of time continued to play about in the pool, to the great amusement of the seamen, who gave her credit for abilities in tuition which, though possessed of considerable sagacity, she hardly merited.”

On May 28th, the weather being severe, with heavy fogs, the ships separated, to rejoin at Magdalena Bay, Spitzbergen, a few days later. The harbour was full of ice in a rapidly decaying state. This bay is remarkable for four glaciers, the smallest of which, called the Hanging Iceberg, is 200 feet above the sea-level at its termination. The largest extends several miles inland, and, owing to the immense rents in its surface, was called the Waggon Way. In the vicinity of the icebergs, which had become detached from these glaciers, the observance of strict silence was necessary, and the concussion produced by the discharge of a gun (not its “explosion,” as Sir John Barrow says) would often detach large masses. Beechey notes the effects of such a discharge: A musket had been fired at half a mile distance, which not merely brought down an immense piece of ice, but which was the cause of a ship’s launch being carried ninety-six feet by the wave produced, filled with water, and landed on a beach, where it was badly stove, the men barely escaping with their lives. They also had the rare opportunity of noting the creation of an iceberg. An immense piece of the front of a glacier was observed sliding down from the height of at least 200 feet into the sea, dispersing the water in every direction. This discharge was accompanied by a loud grinding noise, and the ice was followed by quantities of water, which, being previously lodged in the fissures, now made its escape in numberless small cataracts from the face of the glacier. Some idea may be formed of the disturbance caused by its plunge and the rollers which agitated the bay when we learn that the _Dorothea_, then careening on her side at a distance of _four miles_, righted herself. This mass dived wholly under water, and then reappeared, rearing its head a hundred feet high, accompanied by the boiling of the sea and clouds of spray. Its circumference was found to be nearly a quarter of a mile, while its weight was computed at over 400,000 tons.

In summer the coasts of Spitzbergen were found perfectly alive with animated nature. The shores reverberated with the cries of the little auks, cormorants, divers, and gulls. Walruses were basking in the sun, mingling their roar with the bark of the seal. Beechey describes an uninterrupted line of little auks flying in the air three miles in length, and so close together that thirty fell at one shot. He estimated their number at 4,000,000, allowing sixteen to a cubic yard. This number appears very large; yet Audubon, in describing the passenger-pigeons on the banks of the Ohio, speaks of one single flock of 1,115,000,000. Audubon’s character for veracity is too unquestioned for us to inquire how he made the calculation.

The surrounding islands were thick with reindeer, Vogel Sang, in particular, yielding the expedition forty carcases. The king eider-ducks were found in such numbers that it was impossible almost to walk without treading on their nests, which they defended with determined resolution; but, in fact, all nature was alive at this time, and birds of many kinds, foxes, and bears, were everywhere found on the shore and on the ice, while amphibious animals, from whales downwards, abounded in the water.

On the 7th of June the ships left Magdalena Bay, and were greatly hampered in the ice. Indeed, they learned from several whale-ships that the ice to the westward was very thick, and that fifteen vessels were beset in it. Proceeding northward themselves, they became entangled in a floe of ice, where they had to remain thirteen days, after which the field broke up, and they got into an open sea. Several attempts were made to prosecute their voyage in a northerly direction, but without success; and Captain Buchan, being satisfied that he had given the ice a fair trial in the vicinity of Spitzbergen, resolved on bearing for the coast of Greenland. Having arrived at the edge of the pack, a gale came on so suddenly that they were at once reduced to storm staysails. The vessels were reduced to take refuge among the ice, a proceeding often rendered necessary in those latitudes, though extremely dangerous. The _Trent_, following the _Dorothea_, dashed into the unbroken line of furious breakers, in which immense masses of ice were crashing, heaving, and subsiding with the waves. The noise was so great that the officers could scarcely be heard by the crew. “If ever the fortitude of seamen was fairly tried it was assuredly not less so on this occasion; and I would not,” says Beechey, “conceal the pride I felt in witnessing the bold and decisive tone in which the orders were issued by the commander of our little vessel (Franklin), and the promptitude and steadiness with which they were executed by the crew. Each person instinctively secured his own hold, and, with his eyes fixed upon the masts, awaited in breathless anxiety the moment of the concussion. It soon arrived; the brig, cutting her way through the light ice, came in violent contact with the main body. In an instant we all lost our footing, the masts bent with the impetus, and the cracking timbers from below bespoke a pressure which was calculated to awaken our serious apprehensions.” So great was the motion of the vessel that the ship’s bells tolled continually, and they were ordered to be muffled; the heaviest gale of wind had never before made them strike. After many dangers from the ice the pack broke up sufficiently to release the ships, both of which were greatly disabled, while the _Dorothea_ was in a foundering condition. They proceeded as well as they could to Fair Haven, Spitzbergen, where the damages were in some sort repaired, and they sailed for home.

The character of Sir William Edward Parry, who carried the Union Jack nearer the Pole than any explorer prior to Markham and Parr, was truly admirable, while his services to his country were as brilliant as they were numerous. In every way he was an honour to the British navy, such a union of lofty heroism, consummate nautical skill, and calm daring, is almost without parallel. The amiability and benevolence of his manners endeared him to all ranks of the service, and made him the idol of his men, whom he never failed to encourage by all the means in his power. His name, though written in snow and ice, is imperishable, for his heart was in his work, and he always believed in its future success. In the four voyages made under his command to the Arctic seas he was most careful of the health and comfort of his followers, and lost fewer hands than any other commander in these parts; and when we remember the kind of vessels he sometimes sailed in (the _Griper_, in particular, being about as unseaworthy a ship as could well be sent out of dock), we can only wonder at his patience under difficulties and the persevering energy which kept him “pegging away.”

The son of a celebrated physician, Dr. Caleb Hillier Parry, he was born at Bath on the 19th of December, 1760, and was intended originally for his father’s profession; but circumstances having occurred to alter his determination, he was appointed to the _Ville de Paris_, the flagship of Admiral Cornwallis’s Channel Fleet, as a volunteer of the first class. Here he remained for three years, during which period he was engaged in an action off Brest Harbour. Fortunate in making his first essay of a seaman’s life under officers who were desirous of winning the esteem and affection of those beneath them, he soon became a favourite, and the admiral, on his leaving the ship, thus records his opinion of him:—“Parry is a fine, steady lad. I never knew any one so generally approved of. He will receive civility and kindness from all while he continues to conduct himself as he has done, which, I dare believe, will be as long as he lives.” He was afterwards appointed to the _Tribune_ frigate and to the _Vanguard_, and was frequently engaged with the Danish gun-boats in the Baltic.

In 1810 he gained his epaulet, and joined the _Alexandria_ frigate, in which, after serving in the Baltic, he made his first acquaintance with polar ice between North Cape and Bear Island; and he subsequently joined the _La Hogue_ at Halifax. In 1814 he commanded a boat in a successful expedition up the Connecticut river, for which service he received a medal. Three years later he was recalled to England in consequence of the severe illness of his father, who had been seized with a paralytic stroke. His father’s illness and his own despair of promotion made this the gloomiest period of our young hero’s life. But dark is the hour before the dawn, and an incident occurred which threw a gleam of hope upon his professional prospects, and proved the forerunner to his future success. At the close of 1817 he wrote to a friend on the subject of an expedition that was about starting to explore the River Congo. The letter was written, but not posted, when his eye fell on a paragraph in the newspaper relative to an expedition about to be fitted out to the northern regions. He seized the pen, and added, by way of postscript, that, as far as he was concerned, “hot or cold it was all one to him, Africa or the Pole.” This letter was shown to Mr. Barrow, the then Secretary of the Admiralty, and in a few days he was appointed to the command of the _Alexander_, discovery ship, under the orders of Commander John Ross, as recorded in the first voyage of the present series.

In 1819-20 Parry made a second voyage to the Arctic, this being the first, however, in which he had the chief command. The _Hecla_ and the _Griper_ were the vessels employed, and the expedition left the river on May 11th, reaching Davis’s Strait at the end of June, where icebergs of large size and in great numbers were encountered. Fifty or sixty _per diem_ was not an unusual allowance, and Parry counted eighty-eight large ones from the crow’s nest on one occasion, besides a profusion of smaller ones. Some most important explorations in Sir James Lancaster’s Sound were made, and the land which Ross had supposed extended across the bottom of this inlet was found to be open water. The expedition sailed across the site of the Croker Mountains, as has been before mentioned. Barrow’s Strait, Wellington Channel, Melville Island, and many others, were first discovered and named on this voyage.