THE SUN COMES BACK
January 25 was a day of rejoicing, because it marked the return of
the sun, after seventy-one days. The sun was only rather indistinctly
visible, half a disc above the ice, to the south, at noon, but from now
on every day would be a little longer than the day before. It was the
fourth time I had seen the sun come back in the Arctic and this time
was the one which gave me the greatest satisfaction, because so much
depended on our getting good daylight.
We celebrated by a little feast and some good singing in the evening.
We had had a couple of cases of canned oysters on deck when the
_Karluk_ was struck and while I was waiting for the ship to go down
on the eleventh I had found two tins of these oysters in the galley;
the cook had brought them in to thaw them out. I threw the cases
over-board on the ice where they broke and scattered tins of oysters
around. We dug in the drifting snow and found this treasure trove and
on this evening we had the oysters in soup and otherwise, and then had
a “sing.”
It was a fine clear night outside, with little or no wind, the land
visible to the southwest and the temperature between thirty and forty
below zero. Gathered around the big stove in the box-house we went
through a varied and impromptu programme of song and recitation. Some
one recited “Casey at the Bat,” another “Lasca,” while Munro gave us
poems by Burns, of which he had a goodly store in his memory. With or
without the accompaniment of instrumental music on a comb, we sang
about every popular favorite, old and new: “Loch Lomond” and “The Banks
of the Wabash,” “The Heart Bowed Down” and “I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her
Now,” “Sweet Afton” and “The Devil’s Ball,” “I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble
Halls” and “Maggie Murphy’s Home,” “Red Wing” (the favorite), “Aileen
Alana” (another favorite), “Put on Your Old Gray Bonnet,” “Alexander’s
Ragtime Band,” “The Wearing of the Green,” “Jingle Bells” (which might
have been appropriate if we had used the dog harness which we had with
bells on it and had ridden on the sledges instead of walking) and many
another song, good, bad or indifferent. The Eskimo woman sang hymns and
the little girl sang nursery songs, such as “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little
Star,” in which her mother joined.
It may be hard to believe but we were really enjoying ourselves these
days. We were comfortable in our quarters, with plenty to eat and no
lack of fuel. There was work to be done and all hands kept busily at
it, with no time to mope or indulge in vain regrets; sleep came easily
at the end of the day’s occupations and though we did not have each man
his private room and bath we had more soothing beds than I have slept
on in some hotels.
Every day we progressed in our preparations to make the landward
journey. On the twenty-sixth, for instance, in addition to the constant
round of packing and repacking, weighing this and measuring that, we
tested a couple of bell tents, which had been made on shipboard, to
see if they were all right for use later on. Each had a pole going up
through the middle; we found they were quite satisfactory and the men
used them afterwards to live in on Wrangell Island.
On the twenty-seventh we got a view of the whole sun above the horizon
and a good look at the land. In the half light of the previous days it
had varied in size from time to time like a mirage and we could not
tell whether it was Wrangell Island or not; now it seemed certain that
it was not Wrangell so it must be Herald, according to the chart, a
surmise which turned out to be correct.
“Herald Island,”—quoting again from the “Coast Pilot,”—“its highest
point about 38 miles E. N. E. from Wrangell Island, was discovered and
landed upon by Capt. Kellett of H. M. S. _Herald_, in 1849; it is about
4-1/2 miles long N. W. and S. E. and, being a solid mass of granite
about 900 feet high, is almost inaccessible. Lieut. Hooper, of the U.
S. S. _Corwin_, also landed on it, in 1881, and by barometer determined
the height of its highest peak, near the southeastern end, to be 1200
feet.”
Mr. Hadley and I got into an argument about something—I never could
recall just what it was—and bet a good dinner on it, payable when
we got to Victoria. I remember that I lost the bet but I still owe
it, because when we finally reached Victoria many months later we
had forgotten all about it! Mr. Hadley was one of our most valuable
members because he could do so many things of direct use to us in
our emergency. He was the oldest man of the party—fifty-seven—an
Englishman by birth, who had left England when a lad and been pretty
much all over the world, in a variety of occupations, which included a
term of enlistment in the United States navy.
I sent three men out on the twenty-eighth to see how the trail made by
the mate’s and Mamen’s parties was lasting; they returned late in the
day and reported an alteration and said that they had been unable to
pick up the trail again beyond the break. So the next day I sent them
out again, with Mr. Hadley. They succeeded in picking up the trail and
went as far as Mamen’s first outward camp, about twelve miles from our
main camp. I had told Mamen before he left that when it came near the
time when I should be expecting him back I would build a big bonfire
near Shipwreck Camp to guide him, one an hour before dark and another
an hour after dark. We now carried out this programme, using altogether
thirteen sacks of coal, a whaleboat and ten tins of gasoline. It gave
out a big smoke. At night we opened a drum of alcohol and burned the
canoe, besides three cases of gasoline.
January 30 was a beautiful day with little or no wind and a temperature
not much below zero. Chafe, Williams and Maurer walked to Mamen’s
second camp and an hour and a half beyond it, returning about half past
four to report that there were no alterations in the trail and that the
going was good. They put up a flag at the point where they turned back.
When the men went out on these short journeys over the ice they carried
some supplies with them to cache along the trail for future use.
The next day Malloch, who was watchman, looked at the chronometer
upside down so that the cook was late; he said that Malloch was his
friend! I had intended to send Mr. Hadley and a party away early to
go to Mamen’s third camp but he did not get off until ten o’clock;
with him were Chafe, Williams, Maurer and Breddy. The party returned
about six and reported that they did not reach the third camp but
found good going and believed the going good beyond; between Shipwreck
Camp and Mamen’s first camp the ice was shifting a little. They said
that they could see our bonfire four miles away over the ice. I was
getting anxious about Mamen, for I had surely looked to see him by the
twenty-seventh.
After the Hadley party had left, the doctor and Murray came to me and
asked for supplies for four men for fifty days, with a sledge, to go
to the land; they had been impatient to start for some time. I told
them that I should advise them to wait with the rest of us and make
the journey with us when the conditions, which were improving all the
time as the light grew stronger, were right for the final journey of
the whole party. They did not take kindly to my suggestion, however,
but felt that they would rather make the journey in their own way,
so I finally said that if they would sign an agreement absolving me
from all responsibility if they came to grief later on, I would give
them the supplies. They agreed to this. I told them, furthermore, that
if at any time they wanted to come back to camp and rejoin the main
party they would be perfectly welcome to do so, and that if they
required assistance later on I should be glad to do all in my power for
them. Their party was to consist of four—the doctor, Murray, Beuchat
and Sailor Morris. Morris went of his own accord, coming to me for
permission to do so; I felt that he would be of use to them because he
was a young man of twenty-six and handy, so I gave him the permission
he desired. I offered the doctor’s party their proportional share of
the dogs, as soon as the dogs returned with Mamen, but they declined
the offer, saying that they preferred to haul the sledge themselves.
The doctor’s party began at once on the work of getting ready for their
departure, assisted by McKinlay, who checked over their supplies with
them. At the same time Chafe and Williams were getting ready to leave
with a Peary sledge and four dogs to take supplies over Mamen’s trail
towards the land.