NORDENSKIÖLD AND HIS WORK
Of all the men who have added to the world’s scientific knowledge of
the Polar regions there is none who has made his name more famous
than Adolph Erik Nordenskiöld. The data that he collected, and the
discoveries that he made on his many voyages to the Arctic world have
proved invaluable, and his explorations have not merely been rich in
scientific and geographical results, but they have also benefited
the mercantile world by opening up new fields for enterprise, and
proving the practicability of routes which had always been regarded
as absolutely hopeless.
Nordenskiöld was born at Helsingfors, the capital of Finland, on
Nov. 18, 1832. His father was a well-known naturalist, and the
head of the mining department of Finland, and it was to his early
training that the son owed his first instruction in that particular
branch of science of which he was destined to become one of the
leading lights. Honours crowded thickly upon him, and he was already
becoming one of the most noted mineralogists in Sweden when, at
the age of twenty-six, he joined Professor Torrell’s expedition
to Spitzbergen. Neither with this expedition nor with that of
1861, in which he served under the same leader, need we concern
ourselves. In 1864, however, that is to say, in the year after
Spitzbergen had been circumnavigated for the first time by the
Norwegian Carlsen, the illness of Professor Chydenius, who was to
have acted as leader of the Swedish expedition of that year, left
the command of the expedition open. It was offered to Nordenskiöld,
who, of course, accepted it. This party was sent out with a view
not only to pursuing scientific researches in Spitzbergen, but
also to exploring the unknown regions to the north of that island.
The first part of his task Nordenskiöld fulfilled admirably, among
other things rediscovering Wiche Land, which had not been sighted
since Thomas Edge chanced upon it in 1617; he was only prevented
from fulfilling the second by the fact that he fell in with seven
boatloads of shipwrecked walrus hunters to whom, of course, he had to
give succour. This placed so severe a strain upon his commissariat
department that he was obliged to desist from his original intention.
To Nordenskiöld’s deep regret, the Swedish Government now came to
the conclusion that it had done enough in the way of Arctic research
for the present. The explorer, however, had acquired a taste for
Arctic travel, and he was by no means inclined to give in without a
murmur. Accordingly, he approached Count Ehrensvärd, the Governor
of Gothenburg, upon the subject, and through his kind offices a
fund was raised by such mercantile princes as Dickson, Ekman and
Carnegie, with the result that, in 1868, he was able to depart upon
an expedition during the course of which he succeeded in attaining to
a higher point than ever explorer in the old world had reached in a
ship.
On his return Oscar Dickson, who proved a veritable Maecenas
to Nordenskiöld, asked him if he would not like to continue his
researches in that direction, and it need hardly be said that his
protégé jumped at the offer. The new expedition was to be on a far
larger scale than any of its predecessors, for Nordenskiöld was to
winter on the north coast of Spitzbergen and was to push on thence
over the ice as far as the conditions permitted. One of the first
questions to be considered was that of draught animals, and, with a
view to deciding the rival merits of dogs and reindeer, Nordenskiöld
repaired to Greenland to get up the case for the dogs, while Dickson
conducted inquiries into the ways of the deer. It was during this
visit to Greenland that Nordenskiöld made his first raid upon the
inland ice, of which details are given elsewhere. The result of these
inquiries was a verdict in favour of the deer, the reasons being that
they were the more easily fed and that they could be killed and eaten
if the expedition chanced to run short of provisions.
No pains were spared to make the equipment as complete as possible,
and, accompanied by two provision ships, the _Gladen_ and the _Onkle
Adam_, the party sallied forth on their adventures with high hopes
of accomplishing great things. The fates, however, were against
them, and a heavy misfortune befell them soon after their arrival
at their winter quarters in Mussel Bay. The original plan had been
that the convoy ships should unload and should then return home,
but, on September 16, a terrific storm arose, as a result of which
the ships found themselves so firmly beset in the ice that there
was no prospect of escape that year. Furthermore, the reindeer
took advantage of the storm to effect their escape, and only one
of them was ever found again. This was especially unfortunate,
as Nordenskiöld had been depending upon them not merely for the
prosecution of his plans, but also for that supply of fresh meat
which would be so necessary if scurvy were to break out.
As there were now 67 mouths to feed instead of 24, the only course
for the commander to pursue was to cut down the daily rations by
one-third, and this he accordingly proceeded to do. The men took
the misfortune in a spirit of praiseworthy resignation, but their
fortitude was strongly tried a few days later when the news was
sprung upon them that six walrus-vessels had been frozen in at Point
Grey and Cape Welcome, that their crews numbered 58, and that,
with care and economy, their provisions might be made to last till
December 1, after which they would have to ask Nordenskiöld to help
them. It need hardly be said that the explorer was not overjoyed at
the prospect, more especially as with so many to feed and so little
to eat it was morally certain that they would all starve to death
before the end of the winter. Fortunately, however, he knew that a
Swedish settlement at Cape Thörsden, some 200 miles away, had been
abandoned that year, and that a good store of provisions had been
left behind. He accordingly bargained with the hunters that some of
their party should repair thither, and that he would support the
rest to the best of his ability when their own stock of provisions
had run out. With a view to economising his own so far as possible
he tried the experiment of converting his now useless reindeer moss
into bread. The recipe is not one to be commended to the notice of
epicures in search of a novelty, but it was found to be just eatable.
This precaution, however, fortunately proved unnecessary, for two
of the walrus-ships were released in a gale, and the hunters made
their escape. Those of them who went to Cape Thörsden showed such a
complete disregard for the laws of hygiene that they all died during
the winter.
As was only inevitable in the circumstances, outbreaks of scurvy were
frequent, but they proved amenable to treatment. The huntsmen of
the party were lucky enough to shoot seven reindeer, which formed a
welcome addition to the poorly filled larder. “These,” says Leslie,
“were reins in winter dress. The whole body was covered with a very
close winter coat of hair several inches thick. The head, nearly
indistinguishable from the neck, was short and thick, with broad nose
and eyes visible on careful scrutiny. The trunk appeared shapeless,
and the legs short and clumsy. This peculiarly shapeless appearance
is owing not merely to the coat of long hair, but also to the thick
layer of fat with which at this season the whole mass of muscle
therein is surrounded. It is, indeed, surprising how this animal can
collect such a mass of fat in Spitzbergen, where the vegetation is so
scanty and the summer so short. In spring, even in the end of June,
they are only, as people say, skin and bone; but in autumn, by the
end of August, and throughout September, they resemble fat cattle,
and have their flesh so surrounded and impregnated with fat that it
is for many nearly uneatable.”
As soon as spring came round Nordenskiöld set out upon his northern
journey. Any hopes that he might have entertained of being able to
push far north were soon dashed to the ground, for at Seven Islands
he found the ice so bad that it was useless for him to attempt to
cross it. He decided, therefore, to proceed with what was really
the more valuable work of examining North-East Land, with a view to
determining its geological structure and to settling its eastern
limit, which had always been a vexed question. Round the shore the
ice was rough and hummocky, and going was slow in consequence. On
June 1 the explorers were obliged to take to the inland ice, the sea
front of which, it may be said, presents the largest known glacier.
Here their way became perilous as well as merely difficult. “Scarcely
had we advanced 2000 feet,” says Nordenskiöld, “before one of our
men disappeared at a place where the ice was quite level, and so
instantaneously that he could not even give a cry for help. When we,
affrighted, looked into the hole made where he disappeared, we found
him hanging on the drag-line, to which he was fastened with reindeer
harness, over a deep abyss. He was hoisted out unhurt.” Accidents
like these were of frequent occurrence, while the monotony of the
journey was also varied by a long series of canals 30 to 100 feet
wide, with vertical walls sometimes 40 feet high. These canals were
often crossed by snow bridges which had a way of collapsing under the
travellers’ feet, but none of the men came to any serious harm.
Nordenskiöld’s original plan of making for Cape Mohn was put out of
the question by an impassable terrain, and he accordingly descended
into Hinlopen Strait at Wahlenberg Bay and thence returned to his
headquarters. There the party had the good fortune to be found by the
English yachtsman, Leigh Smith, who relieved them of all fears for
the future.
Valuable though Nordenskiöld’s earlier voyages were, it is, perhaps,
as the discoverer of the North-East passage that his name will be
best remembered. For centuries the idea of finding a way to China
along the coast of Asia had been allowed to lapse, largely, of
course, because other and easier routes were open to all those who
cared to use them. In 1875, however, the subject was revived, and
Oscar Dickson expressed himself willing to fit out an expedition
which should be commanded by Nordenskiöld. It was thought advisable
to send out a small preliminary expedition to spy out the way,
and accordingly in the same year Nordenskiöld started off in the
_Proven_, a small ship of 70 tons, and succeeded in reaching the
mouth of the Yenesei, a feat never before accomplished. The value of
his journey was, however, rather discounted in some quarters, and
many authorities held that his success was largely due to the fact
that the ice was unusually favourable in that year, and that he would
be unable to repeat the performance in any ordinary season. With a
view to silencing these critics, Nordenskiöld sailed from Tromsö
in the _Ymer_ on July 25, 1876, and anchored off the mouth of the
Yenesei on August 15, thus proving the Arctic route to be perfectly
practicable, and opening up a way which has since proved of some
value.
These two successes made Nordenskiöld all the more determined to
make the complete voyage from Tromsö to the Behring Strait; and so
convincingly did he argue his case, that he succeeded in obtaining
a grant from the Swedish Diet, which, with contributions from Oscar
Dickson, King Oscar, and M. Sibiriakoff, enabled him to fit out
the _Vega_, and to set sail in her from Tromsö on July 21, 1878,
accompanied by the collier _Express_, the _Frazier_, with a cargo for
the Yenesei, and the _Lena_, which was to make for Yakutsk.
The Kara Strait was perfectly free of ice, and here the _Vega_ took
the coal from the _Express_ into her own bunkers. The dreaded Kara
Sea was also safely negotiated, and on August 10 the two ships of
which the expedition now consisted were lying off the mouth of the
Yenesei. From this point onward Nordenskiöld was in a state of
nervous tension, for he might at any moment be pulled up by the ice.
Cape Chelyuskin, however, the most northerly point of Asia, was
rounded successfully, the New Siberian Islands were passed, and on
September 12 the _Vega_ was nearing the promontory of Irkaipi, on the
other side of which lay the Behring Strait, the _Lena_ having left
her at the river after which she was named.
Nordenskiöld was now within 120 miles of his destination, and his
ambition to complete the passage in a single voyage seemed on the
verge of fulfilment, when his ship was caught in the ice, and so
firmly frozen in that all hopes of getting her free again that winter
had to be abandoned. The _Vega_ was lying off a Chukche village,
and Nordenskiöld and his assistants at once set about gaining some
knowledge of the manners and customs of the natives. One of them,
he tells us, “carried a Greek cross on his neck. He appeared to
have been baptised, but his Christianity did not amount to much.
He crossed himself with much zeal to the sun in our presence. This
was the only trace of religion or religious observance that we
could discover.” During his intercourse with the natives, Norquist
succeeded in learning about a thousand words of their languages,
while other members of the party made many valuable ethnographical
observations.
On July 18, 1879, the _Vega_ was set free, and on the 20th she
rounded the East Cape, thus being the first ship to accomplish the
difficult passage in a single journey.