THE VOYAGE BEGINS
On June 17, cheered on our way by the good wishes of the people among
whom we had spent a pleasant month, we left Esquimault for Nome. The
trip north was a memorable one for me, for I had never been up the
Alaskan coast before and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. We reached Nome
July 7 and remained there until the thirteenth, taking on supplies that
had come up on the mail-boat _Victoria_ from Seattle and transferring
supplies from the _Karluk_ to the dock for the two other ships of our
little fleet.
[Illustration:
Wilkins Malloch Beuchat O’Neill Cox McKinlay
Mamen McConnell Jenness
Chipman
Mackay Bartlett Stefansson Anderson Murray Johansen
THE LEADERS AND THE SCIENTIFIC STAFF BEFORE THE DEPARTURE FROM NOME]
On July 13, with a farewell salute from the _Bear_, which happened
to be in port at the time, we left Nome for Port Clarence, which we
reached the next day. All hands immediately set to work getting things
in readiness for our voyage into the Arctic Ocean. We blew down the
boiler, overhauled the engines, took on fresh water and rearranged
our stores and equipment, so that we might know where everything was
to be found. The weather was very variable, usually good but very
windy at times, with occasional showers. Some of the scientific
staff went ashore and cut grass for use in our boots later on; when a
man is wearing the deerskin boots so essential in Arctic work, it is
necessary for him to line the bottom with dry grass to act as a cushion
for his feet as he walks over the rough sea ice and also to absorb the
perspiration, for otherwise his feet would be in constant danger of
freezing.
By July 27 we were at last ready to start. Some further repairs were
still to be made on the _Alaska_ so she remained behind but at three
o’clock in the morning we weighed anchor and, accompanied by the _Mary
Sachs_, proceeded to sea. Besides the officers and crew we had on
board the _Karluk_, Stefansson and his secretary, Burt McConnell, with
Murray, Mamen, Malloch, Jenness, Beuchat, McKinlay and Dr. Mackay. We
had also a white dog-driver who left us at Point Barrow.
As we were steaming along in the forenoon, about a mile and a half
offshore, abreast of Tin City, I saw a rowboat coming towards us,
making signals to attract our attention. We altered our course to meet
her and when she came alongside we found that she had brought us a
message for Stefansson, which had been telephoned from Teller to Tin
City. It proved to be from an aviator named Fowler who was then at
Teller with his aeroplane; he asked permission to bring his machine on
board the _Karluk_, accompany us for a while and later on fly from the
ship to the shore. The _Karluk’s_ deck was already pretty well crowded
with dogs, sledges, sacks of coal and other gear, and Stefansson
finally decided that it would be impossible to grant the request.
About two o’clock in the afternoon we had Cape Prince of Wales a-beam
on the starboard side and shaped our course to round the shoal off
the cape. There was a strong westerly wind blowing. By this time the
_Mary Sachs_ was hull down astern, so we put about and went back to
see if everything was all right with her. When we left Port Clarence
we had put Wilkins on board the _Sachs_ to run her engine, on account
of the temporary disability of her own engineer and now, as we came
near enough to exchange words, we found that the engineer was feeling
well enough to perform his duties, so we lowered a boat and transferred
Wilkins to the _Karluk_ again.
With the _Sachs_ keeping in shore we proceeded on our way. The wind
began to blow harder and veered to the northwest, bringing in a dense
fog and a rising sea and making it necessary to put the ship on the
starboard tack, reaching towards the Siberian coast. We continued on
this course the rest of the day and until well after midnight; then the
wind veered round to the west again and the sea moderated, but the fog
continued. At 2 A. M. on the twenty-eighth our steering-gear gave out
but fortunately we soon had it repaired. At eight o’clock we reefed her
and headed towards the American shore. The fog still hung low and thick
but there were occasional gleams of sunshine. We were now steaming
through Bering Strait, across the Arctic Circle, and had twenty-four
hours of daylight.
Finally, at four o’clock on the morning of July 30, the fog began
to lift and by eleven it was fine and clear again, with a strong
north-northeast wind. The _Sachs_ was nowhere to be seen; in fact the
_Karluk_ did not see her again. We were now close to Cape Thompson,
steaming towards Point Hope. At ten o’clock in the evening we dropped
anchor off Point Hope, near the Eskimo village. The Eskimo in their
skin-boats and whaleboats came out to meet us, to trade dogs, boats,
furs and sealskins. About midnight we moved nearer to the land, and
early in the morning Stefansson went ashore to continue the trading
and make arrangements for the services of Panyurak and Asatshak, two
Eskimo boys eighteen or twenty years old, who also went by the names
of Jerry and Jimmy and were good dog-drivers and hunters. Stefansson
had lived so many years with the Eskimo of Alaska and the Mackenzie
River region, that he knew them personally, men, women and children,
from Point Barrow east along the northern coast, as well as I knew
the Eskimo of Whale Sound on the Greenland coast, that little tribe
of Arctic Highlanders, numbering only about two hundred and forty,
from whom we chose the Eskimo that accompanied us on the _Roosevelt_
to Cape Sheridan and played so important a part in the attainment of
the North Pole. Later in the morning of the thirty-first, we weighed
anchor and steamed around to the north side of Point Hope, where we
did more trading, and then proceeded on our way up the coast. By noon
we had Cape Lisburne a-beam and shaped our course for Icy Cape, to go
about ten miles outside of Blossom Shoals, a dangerous reef off Blossom
Point, which has always been dreaded by mariners. Our scientists were
busily engaged in writing letters, to be mailed at Point Barrow and
taken back on the _Bear_ which calls there once a year, usually in
August.
Thus far our progress all along had been satisfactory. Early on the
morning of August 1, however, we began to note indications of the
presence of ice on our weather side. The water began to get smoother,
and when we tested its temperature by hauling up a bucketful at
intervals, as the day wore on, we found it dropping steadily, until it
reached thirty-nine degrees; the water changed color, too, becoming
dirtier. Finally in the afternoon we could see the ice plainly on our
port bow. We had seen the “ice-blink” for some time before; now the
ice itself hove in sight about two miles away, with some larger pieces
scattered here and there among the floes. I learned afterwards that
up to a few days before we should have had clear water all the way to
Point Barrow. The ice curved in towards the shore, so that we had to
change our course; we had been steaming parallel with the land but now
we had to head towards shore or else run the danger of being caught
in the ice. About midnight our progress was still further barred and
we had to turn around and steam back to windward for a mile or so to
keep in the open water, for the strong north wind was driving the ice
towards the land. The next day the wind changed and blew off the land;
this started the ice off shore and we were able to move eastward, but
soon the offshore breeze died down and we had to turn back again.
Finally in the afternoon we made another attempt, with some success; we
were gradually nearing Point Barrow.