THE CAUSE OF THE EXPEDITION.
The _Polar King_, in lat. 84', long. 151' 14", had entered an ocean
covered with enormous ice-floes. What surprised us most was the fact
that we could make any headway whatever, and that the ice wasn't
frozen into one solid mass as every one expected. On the contrary,
leads of open water reached in all directions, and up those leading
nearest due north we joyfully sailed.
May the 10th was a memorable day in our voyage. On that day we
celebrated the double event of having reached the furthest north and
of having discovered an open polar sea.
Seated in the luxurious cabin of the ship, I mused on the origin of
this extraordinary expedition. It was certain, if my father were alive
he would fully approve of the use I was making of the wealth he had
left me. He was a man utterly without romance, a hard-headed man of
facts, which quality doubtless was the cause of his amassing so many
millions of dollars.
My father could appreciate the importance of theories, of enthusiastic
ideals, but he preferred others to act upon them. As for himself he
would say, "I see no money in it for me." He believed that many
enthusiastic theories were the germs of great fortunes, but he always
said with a knowing smile, "You know it is never safe to be a pioneer
in anything. The pioneer usually gets killed in creating an
inheritance for his successors." It was a selfish policy which arose
from his financial experiences, that in proportion as a man was
selfish he was successful.
I was always of a totally different temperament to my father. I was
romantic, idealistic. I loved the marvellous, the magnificent, the
miraculous and the mysterious, qualities that I inherited from my
mother. I used to dream of exploring tropic islands, of visiting the
lands of Europe and the Orient, and of haunting temples and tombs,
palaces and pagodas. I wished to discover all that was weird and
wonderful on the earth, so that my experiences would be a description
of earth's girdle of gold, bringing within reach of the enslaved
multitudes of all nations ideas and experiences of surpassing novelty
and grandeur that would refresh their parched souls. I longed to
whisper in the ear of the laborer at the wheel that the world was not
wholly a blasted place, but that here and there oases made green its
barrenness. If he could not actually in person mingle with its joys,
his soul, that neither despot nor monopolist could chain, might spread
its wings and feast on such delights as my journeyings might furnish.
How seldom do we realize our fondest desires! Just at the time of my
father's death the entire world was shocked with the news of the
failure of another Arctic expedition, sent out by the United States,
to discover, if possible, the North Pole. The expedition leaving their
ship frozen up in Smith's Sound essayed to reach the pole by means of
a monster balloon and a favoring wind. The experiment might possibly
have succeeded had it not happened that the car of the balloon struck
the crest of an iceberg and dashed its occupants into a fearful
crevasse in the ice, where they miserably perished. This calamity
brought to recollection the ill-fated Sir John Franklin and _Jeanette_
expeditions; but, strange to say, in my mind at least, such disasters
produced no deterrent effect against the setting forth of still
another enterprise in Arctic research.
From the time the expedition I refer to sailed from New York until the
news of its dreadful fate reached the country, I had been reading
almost every narrative of polar discovery. The consequence was I had
awakened in my mind an enthusiasm to penetrate the sublime secret of
the pole. I longed to stand, as it were, on the roof of the world and
see beneath me the great globe revolve on its axis. There, where there
is neither north, nor south, nor east, nor west, I could survey the
frozen realms of death. I would dare to stand on the very pole itself
with my few hardy companions, monarch of an empire of ice, on a spot
that never feels the life-sustaining revolutions of the earth. I knew
that on the equator, where all is light, life, and movement,
continents and seas flash through space at the rate of one thousand
miles an hour, but on the pole the wheeling of the earth is as dead as
the desolation that surrounds it.
I had conversed with Arctic navigators both in England and the United
States. Some believed the pole would never be discovered. Others,
again, declared their belief in an open polar sea. It was generally
conceded that the Smith's Sound route was impracticable, and that the
only possible way to approach the pole was by the Behring Strait
route, that is, by following the 170th degree of west longitude north
of Alaska.
I thought it a strange fact that modern sailors, armed with all the
resources of science and with the experience of numerous Arctic
voyages to guide them, could get only three degrees nearer the pole
than Henry Hudson did nearly three hundred years ago. That redoubtable
seaman possessed neither the ships nor men of later voyagers nor the
many appliances of his successors to mitigate the intense cold, yet
his record in view of the facts of the case remains triumphant.
It was at this time that my father died. He left me the bulk of his
property under the following clause in his will:
"I hereby bequeath to my dear son, Lexington White, the real estate,
stocks, bonds, shares, title-deeds, mortgages, and other securities
that I die possessed of, amounting at present market prices to over
five million dollars. I desire that my said son use this property for
some beneficent purpose, of use to his fellow-men, excepting what
money may be necessary for his personal wants as a gentleman."
I could scarcely believe my father was so wealthy as to be able to
leave me so large a fortune, but his natural secretiveness kept him
from mentioning the amount of his gains, even to his own family. No
sooner did I realize the extent of my wealth than I resolved to devote
it to fitting out a private expedition with no less an object than to
discover the North Pole myself. Of course I knew the undertaking was
extremely hazardous and doubtful of success. It could hardly be
possible that any private individual, however wealthy and daring,
could hope to succeed where all the resources of mighty nations had
failed.
Still, these same difficulties had a tremendous power of attracting
fresh exploits on that fatal field. Who could say that even I alone
might not stumble upon success? In a word, I had made up my mind to
set forth in a vessel strong and swift and manned by sailors
experienced in Arctic voyages, under my direct command. The expedition
would be kept a profound secret; I would leave New York ostensibly for
Australia, then, doubling Cape Horn, would make direct for Behring
Sea. If I failed, none would be the wiser; if I succeeded, what fame
would be mine!