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.
[Illustration: SIR JOHN ROSS.]
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.
[Illustration: FISKERNÆS, SOUTH GREENLAND.]
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.
[Illustration: THE “DOROTHEA” AND THE “TRENT” IN THE ICE.]
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.”
[Illustration: MAGDALEN BAY, SPITZBERGEN.]
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.
[Illustration: THE NORTH CAPE.]
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.