FARTHEST NORTH.

I.

EARLY LIFE.

In the following pages, it is proposed to record the personal history of

an American hero whose fortune it was, at the sacrifice of his life, to

visit and explore the utmost limit in the Arctic regions ever attained

by human skill and enterprise. Aside from the information communicated

to me by his family, the materials placed in my hands consist of his

private correspondence and various journals which he faithfully kept

while serving his country on the Western frontiers, as well as in the

inhospitable domain of the North. As the poet Fitz-Greene Halleck wrote

about a kindred character—

“He lived, as mothers wish their sons to live,”

and, on the score of fidelity to duty,

“He died, as fathers wish their sons to die,”

leaving a name that will long be honored in every civilized land as that

of a martyr in the cause of geographical exploration.

Many of those connected with the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland,

before the civil war, will remember a playful and mischievous boy, whose

ready smile and cheerful ways beguiled them in their hours of

relaxation. Others who were at that school after the war will remember

the same boy, grown into a youth of sixteen years, rugged in aspect,

devoted to manly sports, and assiduous in all his duties. It is the

story of his brief but eventful life to which this volume is devoted,

written for the information of his friends and all those who admire true

heroism and rare abilities when allied to sufferings for the public

weal.

James Booth Lockwood was the second son and third child of General Henry

H. Lockwood and Anna Booth Lockwood. He was born at the Naval Academy,

Annapolis, on the 9th of October, 1852, at which time and place his

father—a Professor of Mathematics in the Navy—instructed the midshipmen

in the military branches, as he had done for many years before. Both his

parents were from the State of Delaware, and came from the best stock of

that State; and, as his father taught his students “how to shoot,” and

prepare themselves for the conflicts of life, it was quite natural that

the son should have acquired a love of noble deeds and adventure.

Like many boys, he had his narrow escapes from death, one of which

occurred in April, 1860, when, having fallen into the river from the

dock, he was rescued in an insensible condition, and restored to life

with great difficulty. This escape must have been recalled by him with

special emotion in after-years amid his struggles with the ice of

Smith’s Sound.

His innate love of fun had been one of his characteristics from

childhood, nor was it subdued even when recovering from the accident

which nearly cost him his life; for, while lying in his bed, he peered

into his father’s face with a quizzical smile, and remarked, “I was

drowned, but not drowned dead.”

When the Naval Academy was occupied by a general of the army, in 1861,

and the students and professors were transferred to Newport, Rhode

Island, young Lockwood accompanied his father and family, and was placed

at a public school in that place. After a brief residence in Newport,

his father, being a graduate of the Military Academy at West Point, was

called upon to command a volunteer regiment of Delaware troops, and

having been subsequently commissioned a brigadier-general of volunteers,

he was placed in charge of the Eastern Shore counties of Virginia and

returned to the region of hostilities, making his headquarters at

Drummondtown, in Accomac County. In this quaint and quiet place, and

while a mere stripling of ten years, young Lockwood displayed his love

of adventure and active life by forming a company of all the colored

boys in the village, erecting earthworks in a vacant lot, and, all armed

with corn-stalks and broom-handles, meeting a company of white boys in

mimic war—noisy, if not dangerous to life or limb. The vanity of

personal strife, however, soon becoming irksome to his mind, he turned

his attention to horsemanship, and explored the surrounding shores of

Accomac on a Chincoteague pony belonging to his father. He also spent

many quiet hours conversing about horses and their habits with the

soldiers in the garrison, with whom he was a special favorite. After a

while, his father was transferred to the command of troops at Harper’s

Ferry, and there a new field of adventure occupied the attention of the

incipient hero. He was foremost in climbing the neighboring

mountain-heights and scaling precipices, and always on the lookout for

adventure along the waters of the Potomac. Afterward, when living with

his family near the city of Baltimore, he displayed his activity and

energy in other ways. When neighboring boys were wont to trespass on his

father’s grounds and fruit-trees, he was quite as ready to defend his

home as he had been in Accomac to maintain the national struggle then

rending the land. And here it was that he often accompanied his father

on his rounds among the military works near Baltimore, and always

attracted the attention of the troops by his skill in riding. But these

experiences were not deemed satisfactory for molding the character of a

boy, and then it was that his father sent him to a boarding-school at

Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, kept by a Mr. Schwartz, a good scholar and

strict disciplinarian. Of course, like those of all boys, his letters

teemed with complaints. He was _very homesick_—a mere child separated

from all he loved. In one letter he spoke of praying to God to make him

satisfied. In after-years, and when suffering all the horrors of the

Arctic, his mother’s prayer was that his childhood’s star might again

arise, and lead his sorrowing heart to that comfort found only above.

His chief grievances were a Dutch dish regularly given to the boys,

called _scrapul_, and the discipline of _powers_ administered to those

who failed in their studies. In this latter punishment, the delinquent

was required to raise to the fortieth, fiftieth, or one hundredth power

any number given him. However distasteful to him at the time, he seems

to have changed his mind upon the subjects of food and discipline

afterward; for he became, after his return home, a strong advocate of

_scrapul_ as a physical, and of “powers” as a mental diet. Returning, in

1866, with his father to Annapolis, he was sent to St. John’s College in

that place, and at that time in a flourishing condition, under the able

administration of James C. Welling, now the accomplished President of

Columbian College. Although his mental abilities were acknowledged as

superior, he preferred action to books, and his success there was not

satisfactory to his father. Others known to be his mental inferiors took

a higher stand. He, however, read some Latin, and made considerable

progress in mathematics. Here we come to a new illustration of his

character. During his residence within the walls of the Academy, a

species of tyranny existed among the sons of naval officers of his own

age with whom he associated, which he could not endure. Rank in the

father was supposed to give rank or prestige to the son. This theory

young Lockwood was unwilling to acknowledge, and the consequence was

that he soon found himself beset by those whom he opposed. But then, as

always with the free and brave, right prevailed, and the aggressors were

sent to the wall, while the fearless victor very soon became the peer of

his associates. The situation of the Academy offering peculiar

facilities for boating, fishing, swimming, etc., the professor’s son

became an expert in all these exercises, making pets of his sail and row

boats, as he had done with the ponies of Chincoteague. Many of the

Annapolis students, now high officers in the navy, have spoken of his

frolicsome pranks at that time within the grounds of the Academy—for

example, how he mimicked the strut of the drum-major, how he teased the

watchman by hiding among the trees and bushes, personating an intruder

on the grounds, and how he alarmed the servant-maids and the children by

appearing suddenly before them like a phantom. He was more fond of

reading than of study, and among his favorite books were those of De

Foe, Mayne Reid, and others of that class. To what extent he was

familiar with the histories of John Ledyard and Joseph R. Bellot can not

be stated, but there is a striking similarity in their characters, and

indeed it was the fate of the latter, like Lockwood, to lose his life in

the Arctic regions. They form a trio of remarkable explorers, whose fame

will be perennial, but it was the fate of the last one mentioned to

reach the highest success. During the latter part of his residence at

Annapolis, he spent many of his spare hours on his father’s farm. By way

of encouragement, his father assigned to him a patch of ground for his

special cultivation, with fertilizers and the use of a team. To the

surprise of all, his success seemed amazing, and his crops were good and

profitable. With the money thus secured he purchased for himself a watch

and a sporting gun. He had a special fondness for dogs, and exerted over

them great influence. His favorite in this direction was a short-legged,

long-bodied, common rat-terrier. In the purity of this dog’s blood, he

was a decided believer, which faith he maintained with many hot

arguments, and exemplified by teaching the animal a great variety of

tricks. Indeed, the high degree of training to which he brought the dog

Jack was remarkable. He was always quiet and positive toward the animal,

and Jack gave his commands a serious and implicit obedience. One of the

feats performed by the dog was to carry a candlestick with a lighted

candle wherever ordered to do so. Another was to this effect: the boy

would place a small scrap of paper on the parlor wall at a height which

Jack was hardly able to reach. Jack’s attention would then be called to

the paper, and the dog and master would retire up-stairs. Some time

afterward, Jack, in obedience to a mere word, would proceed to the

parlor, and, to the amusement of those congregated there, launch his

body at the paper until he finally secured it, and then would carry it

to his master. Although this dog had a special dislike for fire, he

would, under orders, pull chestnuts out of the hot coals, even if it

took him an hour to perform the task; and it is also related of him that

on one occasion, when he slipped his muzzle on the Academy grounds, he

picked it up and took it to his master. When the lad’s father was

ordered to the National Observatory, the family removing to Washington,

the pet dog accompanied them, and the intimacy between the dog and his

master was unabated. They often rambled through the streets together,

and it was during one of their walks along Pennsylvania Avenue that the

dog disappeared, and was never recovered by his owner, whose grief was

most sincere and manifest. He published an advertisement, and, true to

his regard for the departed, he spoke of it as a pure-blooded animal;

which statement was probably the reason why the dog was never returned,

as no stranger could have believed in the alleged pedigree of such an

ungainly creature.

After young Lockwood’s father and family had become settled in

Washington, it was decided that he should return to Annapolis and take

charge of the farm until some more suitable or congenial employment

should come into view. In looking over the home letters which he wrote

at that time, I find a few developments of character which are worthy of

mention. For example, in February, 1872, he writes as follows:

“I find Annapolis the same as ever. It would hardly do for Rip Van

Winkle to go to sleep here, for, when he awoke, he would find no change,

not even by death.”

After speaking in the same letter of a man going to purchase implements

in Baltimore, he says: “I think it would pay one capable of judging of

such things, or one endowed with ‘Lockwood Common Sense,’” this allusion

being to an imaginary manual which the children had attributed to their

father. The quiet humor of the youthful farmer is manifested in another

letter after this fashion: “I have been suffering all the week from the

effects of a poison most probably communicated from some vine. It

manifests itself pretty much as Job’s troubles showed themselves, and no

position of body except standing affords relief. I haven’t yet got down

into the ashes. If tartar emetic produced these eruptions, they might be

attributed in some way to the evil agency of Mrs. W——.”

The person here alluded to was the one who became notorious for the

alleged poisoning of General W. S. Ketcham, in Baltimore. Young Lockwood

had met her at a boarding-house in Annapolis after her release from

prison, and was agreeably impressed by her conversation and manners. On

a subsequent occasion, when visiting his family in Washington, and some

severe remark had been made against the lady in question, he demanded

that the company present should not abuse an absent friend in his

presence. Being of a sensitive nature in regard to the weather, as is

proved by several of his Annapolis letters, and by such passages as the

one now to be quoted, it seems surprising that he should ever have

decided to visit the icy regions of the North.

“This gloomy weather,” he says, “is by no means calculated to elate

one’s spirits, but, on the contrary, makes everything appear in its most

dreary and desolate light, especially on a farm like this, and, though

the spring will bring more work and attention, yet I shall hail its

appearance with joy. I must confess that I can not prevent a feeling of

loneliness from coming over me, particularly in the daytime, for at

night my lamp and open wood-fire make things more cheerful, or rather

less dreary.”

As these letters were written from a farm, and by a mere boy, they are

chiefly devoted to asking for advice as to how he should manage affairs,

and to reporting the condition of the crops; but, in their way, they

prove that there was much solid manhood in the lad, and that he looked

upon life as something substantial, and not as a kind of dreamland.

On one occasion, when visiting his home, he noticed that one of his

sisters was manifesting what he thought an unreasonable excitement about

the advent of cockroaches in the kitchen, whereupon he drew the figure

of a vessel under full sail, beneath which he wrote the following: “The

brig Anna Baby, bound to the north pole for a load of cockroaches.”

On another occasion, after consulting the family copy of Webster’s

Dictionary, he wrote upon one of the fly-leaves, opposite the

indorsements of Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and other distinguished men,

these words: “I regard this dictionary as very good, especially when you

can not get any other.”

These incidents, though unimportant, help us to appreciate the character

of the critical and independent youth.

The following example of the boy’s ingenuity is also worth mentioning:

In 1870 a brother-in-law gave him a small, cheap clock, about four and a

half inches in diameter, which he at once adapted to the purpose of

waking himself in the morning. After joining the slats of his bed

together with battens, he sawed them through in the middle and hinged

the parts. That half of the arrangement which was at the head of the bed

was supported only by a single prop. A minute collar of lead was

supported by one of the hands of the clock. At the proper time the lead

slipped from the hand automatically, and, in falling, set in motion a

system of levers which were connected with the prop by a string. Thus,

with unfailing regularity, the prop was jerked from its place, and the

young occupant of the bed was pitched headlong to the floor among his

pillows and bolster. When he tired of this apparatus, it became his

custom at night to hitch a string around his foot, the end of the string

being passed out of the window and allowed to trail down to the

kitchen-door. At a definite time in the morning, previously ordered, the

colored cook pulled the string until she received intimation of a

successful result.

In the hope of finding more congenial employment, young Lockwood now

fixed his mind on engineer work in connection with railroads. He joined

a corps on the Texas and Pacific Railroad line, and went to the

northeastern corner of the State of Texas, where, for four months, he

drove pegs and cut down bushes in the virgin wilderness, which

employment was only terminated by the failure of the company to go on

with its enterprise. What with the rough people with whom he was

compelled to associate, the hard fare at the rude taverns, and a severe

attack of sickness, he had a very disagreeable experience, which was

enhanced by the non-payment of wages by the company, and by the

temporary loss of the spare money furnished by his father, which was

taken from him by the rascality of a pretended friend, an employé of the

railroad company. By careful financial engineering, he managed to leave

the wilderness of Texas, went to Shreveport, and thence to New Orleans,

where he took a steamer for Cincinnati, and on this trip he met with one

small bit of good fortune. Owing to his limited means he contracted with

the captain of the steamer that he should be carried to Cincinnati, O.,

for a specific sum, all his meals to be included in the passage-money.

It so happened, however, that the steamer was detained by floating ice

for three weeks, but this caused no detriment to the traveler’s pocket,

as time was not “nominated in the bond.” About eleven years after that

experience, the same traveler was fighting his way through the ice of

the Arctic seas and enduring the horrors of Cape Sabine, finding it

difficult to secure necessary rations at any price or of any quality.

On reaching home, he began the study of bookkeeping with a view to the

civil service. With others, he was examined for a position in the

Treasury Department. He passed the examination with credit, and received

a mark much above the number required for passing, but, when the

office-mark was thrown in, as was then the custom, his average was

reduced, and those who had personal influence and understood the “tricks

of the trade” became the successful applicants.

II.

ARMY-LIFE IN ARIZONA.

After finding that farming and railroad engineering were not exactly the

employments he had fancied them to be, young Lockwood resumed his

studies under the direction of his father. Not long afterward, however,

he was seized with the idea of entering the army, and, at the very

outset of this venture for a useful life, he was met with a blending of

good and bad fortune. Securing the influence of many friends, he made a

successful appeal to the President and the War Department. He received

orders for an examination before the proper tribunal, and, out of

thirty-eight young men who were examined in Washington, he passed No. 1.

He also had a higher mark than any of those examined in other places at

the same time; hence he was entitled to the highest commission as second

lieutenant, and at one time it was resolved to give it to him; but, as

the examinations were conducted in different places and before different

boards, it was decided to settle the rank of the applicants by lot, and

Lockwood’s number was forty, instead of one to which he was justly

entitled. He was, however, promised a crack regiment, and hence became

second lieutenant in the Twenty-third Infantry, then commanded by two

officers who had gained distinction in the late war—Colonel Jefferson C.

Davis and Lieutenant-Colonel George Crook. He soon after joined the

recruiting station at New York for instruction.

The few letters that Lieutenant Lockwood wrote home from New York

contained very graphic pictures of what he there observed. His reception

at the recruiting-station was most cordial, one of the first things done

there by the recruiting-officers, to his surprise, being to bring forth

a demijohn of whisky; but from this hospitality he begged to be excused,

only one or two other young men following his example.

After a service of several weeks at the recruiting-station in New York,

he conducted recruits to the Territory of Arizona by the way of Panama.

The party left New York in November, 1873, and, on reaching San

Francisco, went by steamer to Fort Yuma, near the mouth of the Colorado

River, and thence marched over the rugged and dusty plains of Arizona to

McDowell Post, a distance of more than one hundred and fifty miles in

the interior.

From the few letters that he wrote respecting his trip from New York to

San Francisco, we gather the following items:

“Aspinwall is a dirty, sandy town, of no architectural pretensions. I

cannot better describe it than by asking you to imagine Lockwoodville[1]

with a lot of palm- and cocoanut-trees growing in the vacant lots,

plenty of the sand and filth aforesaid, all the darkies of Annapolis

sauntering around, plenty of children and many dogs, pigs, etc. However,

I must do Aspinwall justice—it has a neat little church, a marble

monument erected to some of its chief benefactors, and, what I should

call, a remarkably fine statue of Columbus, in bronze. It has an

enormous trade passing through it, from one ocean to the other, and is

really a place of great importance to the mercantile world.”

“We reached Panama between four and five in the afternoon, after a very

interesting ride across the country, and were immediately embarked for

the Constitution—which lay two miles from shore—so that I had no

opportunity of seeing Panama, except from the water. The ship left

during the evening, and ever since has been ‘plowing the angry main’

toward San Francisco, excepting when stopping at some of the towns along

the coast. We have seen several of these, and they are all of one type,

that of Aspinwall, though on a much smaller scale. Some that I saw had

not half a dozen wooden houses, but consisted merely of reed-huts

covered with straw. One of these—Mazatlan—claims to have twenty thousand

inhabitants, but does not appear to have more than one tenth of that

number. All the tropical fruits were abundant at these places, and could

be purchased for a trifle. The Constitution is a side-wheeler of four

thousand tons, and has little motion, and, while sea-sickers are

abundant, I am not one of them. I have gained ten pounds, and now weigh

one hundred and sixty-one.”

Lockwood’s stay in San Francisco was too brief to afford him much

opportunity for observation, but here is what he said of the Chinese: “I

visited Chinatown this evening, and saw the Celestials in all their

glory. I saw many strange and amusing sights in their stores and shops

and along their streets, as they are very slow in adopting civilized

customs. I send along with this some Chinese pictures which I purchased.

I am very much pleased with San Francisco, and shall leave it with many

regrets. A walk through the Chinese quarter is like a visit to some

Chinese city on the other side of the Pacific.”

The few events of his trip along the coast to Yuma were to this effect:

Soon after leaving the Golden Gate, he experienced a storm that was far

from pacific in its character, far worse than any he had witnessed since

leaving New York; he visited Magdalena Bay, which impressed him as a

barren, miserable place, chiefly noted for its want of houses, and yet

of some importance as the shipping port of a dye-wood found in that

region; he also stopped at Carmen Island, where large quantities of salt

were found in the dry bed of a lake, and at Cape St. Lucas, but brought

away no favorable impressions from any of these remote places. With Yuma

City he was better pleased, describing its houses as small, one-story

affairs, built of adobe, more Mexican than American in character, and

its streets as far more dusty than those of Washington City; and the

mountains surrounding the city as very imposing. The Colorado reminded

him of the Red River—the channel winding and running between great

mud-flats and islands, all constantly changing, and abounding in many

kinds of water-fowl. He was interested in the Indian inhabitants, whom

he pitied for their poverty and degradation; occasionally seeing a

number of squaws reclining like quadrupeds on the mud-flats or in front

of their tiny oval huts.

The sojourn of Lieutenant Lockwood in Arizona lasted into the summer of

1874, and from the letters which he wrote home from Post McDowell may be

gathered some interesting particulars, illustrating his habits of close

observation in regard to men and events.

His journey from Fort Yuma to Camp McDowell was full of interest and was

greatly enjoyed. He had for companions two brother officers and three

ladies; traveled by ambulance, making marches of only about fifteen

miles; camped out every night, Lockwood himself sleeping on the ground

outside. As the country was very desolate and barren, they traveled

generally along the valley of the Gila, but their last march was over

desert land forty-five miles wide. They saw many relics along the route,

mounds, ruins, and immense ditches for irrigation. One immense pile of

rocks, called the Painted Rocks, was entirely covered with pictures of

lizards, Indians, beasts, and birds—supposed to represent a great battle

in which the Apaches conquered the Maricopas. There were also along the

road graves of men murdered by the Indians. One grave, near Gila Bend,

was of a man named Lumley, a station-keeper, murdered by two

Mexicans—his successor exhibited a knife, used by one of the murderers,

which had been found, and he pointed out the spot where Judge Lynch had

disposed of the only criminal that happened to be captured. While the

travelers did not spend any money at hotels, they were obliged to pay

from twenty to thirty dollars for being ferried across the Gila and Salt

Rivers at different points.

In one of his letters, written to his sister after the rainy season, and

soon after his arrival at Camp McDowell, young Lockwood says: “I wish

you could see the pretty flowers around here; they are principally

yellow and red, and each kind grows by itself. They grow so close

together that the ground is covered as with a carpet. To the west of

this post there is a wide plain covered with these flowers. There is

also a species of cactus called the Suwarrow, which grows fifteen or

twenty feet high—a sort of tree without branches, but covered with

thorns; the outside of this tree is of a green color and nearly as soft

as young asparagus, but inside it has a frame of wood. These are all

over the plain, in fact all over Arizona. I often walk out here after

dinner with a large dog that belongs to one of the officers, and start

up the rabbits—great big Jack-rabbits, as they are called—as large as a

small dog. They can run very fast, faster than any dog except a hound.

Among other curiosities about here are rattlesnakes and lizards—the

lizards as common as flies; also crows as big as hens and almost as

tame. The post is entirely surrounded by mountains.” By way of contrast

to this pleasing prospect, in another letter he gives the particulars of

the murder of two men by the Indians within twelve miles of the

garrison, their bodies having been fearfully mutilated. “I am still in

the land of the finite and material,” he writes, “and the Apaches have

not yet disturbed the arrangement of my back hair; in short, I am alive

and kicking.”

On the 14th of May, Lockwood writes that “there has been nothing new at

the post except the arrival of Lieutenant Schuyler, Fifth Cavalry. He

has been out on a scout for several months past, dropping in at various

posts now and then. He reports that he came upon the Apaches southeast

of here, killed twelve and took fourteen prisoners. He is accompanied by

Dr. Corbasier and a party of thirty-one soldiers and eighty-one Indian

scouts. These scouts are composed of Apache-Mojave, Tonto-Apaches, and

other tribes, closely allied to the Apaches proper. It seems strange

that they are thus willing to join the enemy in exterminating their

brethren; but such is their nature. They are hardly superior to the

beasts, except in shape, and even there the line of demarkation is not

very distinct. The Pimos, to the number of one hundred or more, were

here about a week ago, on their way to punish the Apaches for stealing

some stock from them. When they returned, they reported the killing of

quite a number of their foes—some sixteen or more—and taking many

prisoners. Schuyler’s party confirm the report; they came across the

camp of the Apaches, and the doctor said he counted a large number of

slain. The Pimos surprised the Apaches when asleep and almost

exterminated them. They were armed with war-clubs, and of course mangled

their bodies horribly. When found their heads were all beaten in, and

their bodies stuck full of arrows and partially burned. The doctor says

it was the most sickening sight he ever beheld. The Apache bands, off

their reservations, are fast becoming exterminated, over a thousand

having been killed during the last winter. General Crook will not allow

them to return to their reservations unless they bring the heads of

several of the ringleaders in the late outbreak.”

In another place, after alluding to the extravagant accounts published

about Arizona, he says: “One would suppose, from reading the pamphlet I

send you, that Arizona is a fine agricultural country—which is absurd;

and that it contains many flourishing cities and towns, whereas even the

river-bottoms require irrigation, and the ‘cities’ are merely the nuclei

of towns.”

On one occasion, after alluding to his enjoyment of the newspapers sent

him from home, and to the early transfer of his regiment, he says: “It

would probably have been removed this spring but for the financial panic

and other commercial disasters. I suppose if the rest of the year goes

by prosperously, and nothing occurs to prolong the gingerly, penny-wise,

pound-foolish policy of Congress called economy (?), that the

Twenty-third will probably be removed next spring or fall.” And again,

he continues: “Grant appears to have obtained great credit by his veto

of the Inflation Bill. How Congress could pass a bill which seems to be

unacceptable and repugnant to the whole people, I can not understand.”

Alluding a second time to the _pleasing_ characteristics of frontier

life, he tells his father that “a party of Indian scouts arrived here

yesterday from Schuyler’s command. They brought the news that the

lieutenant had _jumped_ the Indians at Four Peaks—a high mountain, forty

miles off—killed eighteen and captured six. The party brought in a

wounded scout, shot through the head, who is now in the hospital. He was

the only one wounded in the fight, or rather slaughter, for these

Indians rarely fight a party of any size. I suppose these Arizona tribes

are the most degraded, cowardly, and despicable savages in the country.

Schuyler, as I understand, generally sweeps a breadth of country fifty

miles across, by means of flanking-parties on the right and left, and

has been quite successful.”

In speaking of his duties at the post, he says: “I am officer-of-the-day

every other day; I mount the guard every morning, attend all roll-calls,

accompany the captain in his inspection of quarters every morning, and

afterward recite tactics. I also am present with him at company-drill

every evening, command the company at Sunday morning inspection, sit on

boards of survey and perform other irregular duties.”

After announcing the arrival of the paymaster at the post, and alluding

to expenses, he says: “Servants in this country are paid enormously. The

post-trader pays his Chinese cook thirty dollars per month, and has paid

as high as one hundred dollars. Officers in Arizona are compelled from

necessity to employ soldiers in this capacity, though contrary to the

regulations.”

In one of his letters, Lieutenant Lockwood gives his opinion about some

of his father’s landed property, and then goes on after this fashion:

“The old farm has additional charms for me now, after living in Arizona,

and I have come to think that there are many worse places. Does distance

lend enchantment to the view? or what is it? I often long after some of

the delicious peaches and other fruit that the much-abused farm produces

in such abundance. However, if you can dispose of the farm as you

suggest, it will, no doubt, be for the best, as the Lockwood family have

become so _high-toned_ that I am afraid they will never _stoop_ (?) to

live on a farm and become _grangers_.”

In one of his letters written about this date, he makes the following

remark respecting his education at Annapolis: “I don’t think I care

about being present at the meeting of the alumni of my _Alma Mater_, or,

what she would be more pleased with, contributing anything in the way of

money. Enough has been thrown away in teaching me what has never been of

any use. However, the _old woman_ has my good wishes.”

In another letter, after speaking of an entertainment he had attended,

he said: “I don’t know that I should have enjoyed it, but for the

presence of a very pretty Spanish girl with whom I fell in love; she

danced charmingly, but as she could not speak a word of English, nor I a

word of Spanish, our conversation was somewhat limited.”

On the 4th of July when arrangements were commenced for removing the

Twenty-third Regiment to Yuma, the lieutenant thus touches upon the

national anniversary: “I have celebrated the day by being very busy

writing up the proceedings of a board of survey, and have a like job on

my hands for to-morrow; indeed, I shall be fully employed now till we

leave. Some of the men, however, have been otherwise employed, viz., in

parading before the guard-house with logs of wood on their backs, as the

reward of a drunken frolic. Our march to Fort Yuma will doubtless be

very disagreeable, and for two weeks we shall have dust and heat

together with the fatigue of travel; but, on the other hand, the daily

march will not be more than fifteen miles, and as we shall be well

provided, I can’t say that I look forward to it with much dread. The

wife of our captain is even now interesting herself in the culinary

arrangements, so I presume the _vitals_ will be good.” From the time of

his uttering this amusing pun until the following September, the letters

of young Lockwood give us no incidents of special interest, and we now

follow him into the State of Nebraska, his regiment having been assigned

to the favorite post of Omaha.

III.

ARMY-LIFE IN NEBRASKA.

Having entered upon duty at the barracks of Omaha, he seems to have made

himself especially useful there, while enjoying some of the comforts of

civilization, including good society. On the 25th of September, he wrote

that he had been busy for a week as the recorder of a court-martial. “We

settled nine cases, and, while we now stand adjourned _sine die_, I

suppose the court will soon be reconvened to try half a dozen more men

against whom charges have been preferred. There have been, since my

arrival here, as many as sixty men in the guard-house, and

courts-martial are the order of the day. I have to attend drills, etc.,

every day, and hence my leisure and opportunities for visiting the town

have been limited. However, I did go last night to a concert in town

given for the benefit of the grasshopper sufferers, several of these

sufferers from the country being present. You can not realize what a

nuisance these insects are in this country. I have not yet seen them in

any numbers, or the effects of their ravages, but I am told they

sometimes actually stop the railway-trains. The incredible number of

bed-bugs in this country is another curious fact. I sleep so soundly

that they do not disturb me. They infest every house at the post, and

they are also numerous in the city, the fences between here and there

being painted in many places, ‘Go to Smith’s for the great bed-bug

buster.’” He became a favorite in the refined society of Omaha, at that

time on the confines of civilization, but appearing to him like a bit of

New York city cut off and set down in the wilderness, where, only a few

years before, the buffalo ranged in his native freedom. During his

residence at Omaha, young Lockwood was on the most friendly terms with

all his fellow-officers, with one exception. After giving his father a

very manly account of that trouble, he writes a paragraph about himself

in these words: “With regard to myself, I find this army-life about what

I expected. It has its pleasures and its crosses. I should prefer the

cavalry to the infantry, and am sorry I did not apply for that arm of

the service. I should like to remain in the army two or three years

longer, I think, and yet, with a good opening, might do better in civil

life. Promotion is very slow, and the accumulation of anything is not

easy. These, of course, are rude impressions and but half formed, but,

as you ask for impressions, I feel bound to give them just as they are.

I have not been in the army long enough to rise, nor have I had the

opportunity to gain any particular reputation, but suppose mine is as

good as the average—that is, I think I have displayed as much aptitude

for my profession as is generally exhibited by men of average ability,

for of such I regard myself—perhaps below the average. I hope this

peroration will answer your inquiries, and prove satisfactory in that

respect. Excuse the necessary egotism. I will thankfully receive any

advice or corrections which the reading of this, or your acquaintance

with my characteristics, may suggest. I feel as though I had written a

lot of foolishness; if you think so, please excuse.”

To the writer of this personal history, it seems as if such sentiments

as the above could come only from a young man endowed with the highest

instincts of ambition, honor, and true manhood, and can not but be

considered, with others of like character, as a suitable passport into

the land of Odin and the glories of Valhalla.

During his stay at Omaha, Lieutenant Lockwood was detailed by General

Ord, the commanding officer, to visit those counties of Nebraska where

grasshoppers had destroyed the crops, for the purpose of determining to

whom contributions which had been sent to the general should be given.

In this journey of several hundred miles, made in the coldest weather,

he visited the several county towns, met the citizens, and afterward

laid before the general such testimony as to the destitute, that the

bounty was distributed to the satisfaction of all. While on this duty,

he traveled ninety miles in twenty-four hours. The county people with

whom he conducted business, he designated as “Grasshoppers.” He greatly

enjoyed the prairie scenery through which he passed, especially the

valley of the Blue.

On the approach of Christmas at Omaha, our young friend had an attack of

chills and fever, which sent him to his bed. After deploring that he

could not perform his duties on the pending court-martial, he gives us

this holiday information: “Yesterday was Christmas, and I am glad that

the day comes but once a year. With a large party I was occupied until

late in the afternoon making the rounds of the many houses here at the

post. In the evening, I ate a fine dinner at General Ord’s, and on top

of that, danced in the parlor until eleven or twelve o’clock, and, as a

consequence, am coming on as officer of the guard to-day with a most

gorgeous headache. So much for Christmas. I have received two or three

presents, but have made none myself, from want of funds. I just now

heard a tremendous crash, and, on going out, found a fine lunch, sent by

Mrs. Ord, scattered on the ground, and in the midst of the _débris_ of

broken glass and china, the unfortunate bearer, who had slipped and

fallen on the ice in front of the door. I was not particularly sorry on

my own account, as I could not have eaten the good things ‘anyhow.’ Upon

the whole, Christmas has passed away as it usually does, pleasantly,

though at the expense of many unfortunate turkeys. I am sorry I could

not send home any presents, my pecuniary affairs being in a straitened

condition. I should like very much to be at home about this time. I

often wish I could hear Lidie and Anna sing, although I suppose I would

find the girls, including Julia and Mary, much changed.”

Remembering young Lockwood’s remarks about whisky-drinking in New York,

the following statement is worth quoting: “Most of the ladies at the

post received visitors on New-Year’s-day, either singly or in groups.

One marked feature of the day was the general absence of liquor, its

place being supplied by coffee, chocolate, and other refreshments of a

more solid and less stimulating character. I noticed the same thing in

town, or rather that at those places where I saw liquor, the ladies were

less urgent than is usually the case in pressing it upon the gentlemen.

However, there is less drinking at this post than at any other I have

seen, as large as it is. Although, with few exceptions, all drink here,

it is done quietly at home and without excess.”

As our young friend had narrowly escaped with his life from drowning at

Annapolis, so did he from the pranks of an unruly horse at the Omaha

Barracks. He was about mounting the horse for a ride, when the animal

started on the run before he could get into the saddle, when he was

thrown forward upon his head. The trouble was owing to a defect in the

bridle. In accounting for his escape, he remarked that his thick head

was what saved his life. True to his native pluck, he tackled the same

horse a number of times afterward, until the animal—a special

favorite—was subdued.

In the month of June, 1875, it would seem as if something like

homesickness was weighing down his spirits, for he then began to write

about employment in civil life. Not that he disliked the army, but he

longed for some business that would enable him to make a little money.

He thought he could supply a sufficient amount of energy to prosecute a

commercial venture. He felt that there was a great difference between

the roads that lead to wealth and to military glory. If his father

should chance to see an opening that might give him a fortune in a few

days at the expense of a few hundred dollars or some hard work, he

wanted to be promptly notified. He broached these business ideas at that

time merely for the sake of having a subject for discussion when

permitted to visit his home.

The life at the Omaha garrison, during the summer of 1875, was

comfortable but monotonous. The faithfulness with which the young

officer corresponded with his parents is eminently characteristic of a

dutiful son. When not writing about his surroundings and daily duties,

or sketching the character of his associates, he ventured to discuss

business matters with his father, frequently volunteering a bit of

advice. He often alluded to the Annapolis farm and to people and events

connected with Georgetown, now a part of Washington City, where he

expected the family to remain permanently. On every subject discussed,

he manifested a clear head, and enlivened his more serious talk with an

occasional joke, for which he seemed to have a fondness. In expressing

his opinions on men and things, it seemed impossible for him to hesitate

or equivocate; he always went directly to the point, and, though

charitable, he could not refrain from looking out for the demands of

justice, as, for example, when alluding to the death of a man who had

been untrue to himself and friends, he said “to die was about the best

thing he could do.” As to his jokes, they were not confined to his

private letters, as will be shown by one of them practiced upon the post

trader during a dull period in the garrison. The trader in question, a

young fellow, had removed the balls from the pistol of one of his

clerks, with the intention of playing a ghostly trick upon him that

night. He told Lockwood and another friend of his intention, and they

determined to turn the tables upon the trader. They notified the clerk,

and at midnight the amateur ghost rose from his bed, enveloped himself

in a white sheet, and stole softly into the room of the _unsuspecting_

clerk. Just then an improvised noise was made outside the door, when the

clerk seemingly awoke with an exclamation of terror at seeing the ghost.

The report of the pistol was duly followed by the return of the ball

held in hand, _à la ghost_, but immediately after, the poor ghost found

himself completely drenched with a bucket of water, which had been

coolly set aside for that purpose. At this unexpected turn of affairs,

the trader fled in the greatest consternation, leaving his “trade-mark”

behind, and, as he passed out of the door, received a second pail of

water from one of his ghostly companions. The result was that it took a

long time for him to dry his saturated skin, and a much longer for his

title of Mr. Ghost to be lost by the garrison boys. Not long after the

above incident, this personage found that there was not “the ghost of a

chance” of his continuing in business, as he became insolvent and had to

retire. It would appear that while many of these military merchants on

the frontiers have a chance to make fortunes, those who are located near

a city like Omaha find it difficult to make both ends meet in their

business affairs.

On reading the proceedings of Congress during the winter of 1875, he

writes to his father as follows: “Congress seems to be looking around

for some scape-goat on which to pile the odium of the millions

legislated away, and, as usual, pitches on the army. It seems to be the

opinion here, however, that no reduction will take place this winter. If

Congressmen consulted occasionally others than the staff-officers living

in Washington with regard to military affairs, they might find out the

true whereabout of the tremendous rat-hole which swallows up annually

the sum of thirty-four millions of dollars. It does not go to support

the army proper, but to support that enormous, overgrown, expensive

adjunct of the army, the staff, which, created merely for the

administration of the _army_, now masters that which it was intended to

subserve, and has become superior to it in rank and influence, and in

everything that rank and influence can bring. But Congress seems to be

blind to the fact that expenditures are credited to the army, under the

army appropriation bill, which have no legitimate connection with it,

and which would still be required if no army existed. Why is it that the

army is the perpetual foot-ball of these demagogues? Is it thus, at

every session, to be bantered about by those who do not understand the

requirements of the country in this respect? Is not the causing of this

periodical uncertainty respecting his fate the most pernicious thing

that Congress can do to an officer? O consistency, thou art a jewel! How

is it that the navy and other branches of the public service are not

subject to this constant tinkering? But I am not in Congress, and had

better subside.” The assertions here made can not be controverted, and,

coming from a young man who had but recently passed his majority, prove

him to be the possessor of very substantial abilities. He also expressed

decided opinions in regard to various noted officials charged with

improper conduct in Washington at the time alluded to, all of which have

been sustained by subsequent developments.

Remembering what he said about the drinking customs of Omaha, on

New-Year’s-day, 1875, it is pleasant to have him record the fact, on the

2d of January, 1876, that “the most noticeable feature during the

previous day, in society, was the entire absence, at most houses, of any

intoxicating liquors, and that he did not see a case of drunkenness

during the entire day—a thing very rare even in the cities of the East.”

On a subsequent occasion, he mentions the fact that, when one of his

sergeants had been drinking to excess, he put him in arrest, but

released him the next day, after warning him of the consequences of a

repetition of the offense, and “preaching him a sermon on the evils of

intoxication, moral, mental, and physical.” On one occasion, when his

father had asked how he spent his leisure time in the barracks, he

replied that he read, so as to combine pleasure with profit, played on

his flute, and studied the art of short-hand, which had long been a

hobby with him, and was to be in the future an important accomplishment.

In an effort to read Draper’s “Intellectual Development of Europe,” he

could only manage about one half of the work, and to counteract its

dullness resorted to a novel, “The Wandering Jew.” As he was frequently

called upon to act as recorder of the military court, he found his

knowledge of stenography very useful and very much of a relaxation, and,

on receiving a letter from one of his sisters which was good but not

very plainly written, he said that he had been able to make it out by

means of his skill in shorthand writing. As to his studies, he had

formed a regular plan for prosecuting them, but was constantly

interrupted by extra official duties. Among other things, he devoted

himself to the German language, and subsequently to French, and attained

considerable proficiency. An idea of his habits of industry may be

gathered from what he wrote to his father, when the General was placed

on the retired list of the navy: “So you are retired this month. You

ought to open an office, or do something to occupy your mind. Every one

needs something in the way of business or duty. You will soon get tired

of reading continuously.” On the approach of spring, and with the

expectation of obtaining a leave of absence during the coming summer, he

resumed a discussion with his father about leaving the army for civil

employment. He had entered it well posted in regard to its

disadvantages, and chiefly for the sake of having something to do. He

had now become more deeply impressed than before that promotion was so

slow, that his prospects of increased rank and pay offered no

inducements to any young man of energy and industry, qualities which he

certainly possessed. He was not then ready for decisive action, but he

was determined to support himself, and would, therefore, be on the

lookout for advantageous prospects in some other line of employment. In

one of his letters, after commenting upon the school which two of his

sisters were attending, he gives us this bit of experience: “I am a

school-teacher myself; my pupils, the non-commissioned officers of the

company. They waste the midnight oil, however, only in _boning_ the

tactics. I go down and dilate and expatiate very profoundly on the

reasons and logic of this and that. This is a pleasant school to have;

the authority and influence of the officer have their full weight in the

ordinary school-room as elsewhere in the army.” In May, 1876, after

giving an account of a proposed demonstration, under General Crook,

against the Indians on the Yellowstone, he thus relieves his mind:

“Would that I belonged to the cavalry! I like motion, action, and

variety. To be sure, I would rather be here (in Omaha) than where the

other companies are, but still would rather be in the field than here.”

In June, 1876, the monotony of his life was relieved by an order to take

some convicts to the State prison near Fort Leavenworth, which he

described as the largest post in the country, containing the post

proper, the department headquarters, and the military prison. The State

prison is about six miles from the town. “Here,” he writes, “are sent

all the enlisted men who are dishonorably discharged, convicted of

theft, or other not purely military offenses. The inclosure is an

immense yard, surrounded by a high stone wall—the building, which is on

one side, having an appearance somewhat like the Smithsonian

Institution. In the inclosure are various other buildings, each one used

as a workshop for some trade, almost all the common trades being

represented. The prisoners, numbering about five hundred, are together

in the daytime, but not at night, and are not allowed to talk with each

other. It was from this prison that the best features of the new

military prison were obtained, the board of officers on the management

of the prison at Fort Leavenworth having decided it to be the best one

to imitate.”

In the autumn of 1876, when he was granted a leave of absence to visit

his parents, they found him in personal appearance wonderfully improved

and developed, the boy of 1873 having become a handsome and accomplished

gentleman. He was not slow, as may be supposed, in making his way to

Philadelphia to visit the Centennial Exposition, which he greatly

enjoyed.

IV.

ARMY-LIFE IN KANSAS.

During Lieutenant Lockwood’s absence on leave, his regiment was

transferred to Fort Leavenworth, and there we find him early in 1877,

and for about two years thereafter. Of course, the garrison life of an

officer, in times of peace, is somewhat monotonous; but the letters

which the lieutenant wrote from this station contain some passages which

are interesting and illustrate his character, as will be seen in the

following pages. Here it should be stated that, during his sojourn at

Fort Leavenworth, he made many pleasant acquaintances, which ripened

into friendship; among them being the widow of an officer, with whom he

boarded for some time, and whose friendship he particularly valued.

At a time when there was quite a rage at the garrison for private

theatricals, one of the superior officers took the liberty, without

previous consultation, of putting Lockwood on the list of performers,

whereupon he declined the honor, as he thought Nature never intended him

for a star. In speaking of a little difficulty between two of his

friends, he manifests his love of fun by stating that one of them had

denied the allegation and defied the alligator. When commenting upon

some disagreeable March weather, he said, “I don’t think the ground-hog

has seen his shadow, and hence the latter part of the month ought to be

pleasant.” After a remark on the proficiency he was making in the study

of French, he quietly continues, “There are many here who speak it ‘_à

l’Américaine_,’ as if they thought that ‘the chief end of man.’”

As if never satisfied with his acquirements, he writes in one of his

letters as follows: “My latest hobby is telegraphing. The signal officer

of the department has loaned me a small battery and an instrument. We

have put up the wires and are progressing well. Telegraphy, like

phonography, is easy to transmit after some little practice; but it is

difficult to recognize the sounds as they come over the wire, and it

requires as much practice as it does to recognize the phonographic

characters. I have the instrument on the table before me, and can not

fail to gain some proficiency at any rate.”

In July, 1877, when the strikers and rioters were making trouble in St.

Louis, Mo., Lieutenant Lockwood’s company and five others were ordered

to that city on duty. After their arrival, they waited in daily

expectation of mowing down the mob, but there was little fighting, as

the police and militia were found to be amply sufficient to subdue all

disturbance. He was greatly pleased with the city and military quarters

of St. Louis, and felt that he would like to remain there on permanent

duty. The feature which pleased him more than any other at St. Louis was

a private garden of about fifty acres, exquisitely planned, and

containing the rarest and most beautiful flowers and trees. The floral

display, there, he thought superior to that at the Centennial

Exposition. The owner, a bachelor named Shaw, nearly eighty years of

age, and a man of enormous wealth, paid out yearly in expenses

twenty-five thousand dollars. At the garden residence of this

millionaire, young Lockwood and a friend were hospitably entertained—a

wonderful contrast to the accommodations at a beer-saloon, near the

arsenal gate, where the army officers were obliged to take their meals

while in the city. Altogether the trip was pleasant, but too expensive

for men with limited means. On their return to Fort Leavenworth from the

Eden-like garden of St. Louis, they were informed of Indian troubles in

Montana, and startled by a rumor that they must soon be off upon a hunt

for Indians—illustrating the vicissitudes of army-life.

It was about this time that a specimen of American royalty visited Fort

Leavenworth with his daughter, to whom young Lockwood had an opportunity

of being polite. This was a great cattle-man from Texas, who was said to

have fenced in a grazing-farm of a million of acres, and who numbered

his cattle by tens of thousands. His name was King, and his title in all

the West was the “Cattle King of Texas.” The father and daughter were

much interested in an inspection of the fort, where they were hospitably

entertained. From that time onward for several months, the dullness of

garrison-life was only relieved by parties, dinners, and theatrical

amusements in the city, by the presence of an encampment of Indians near

the post, and by attendance at a grand reception and ball given at

Kansas City by the Governor of the State. The letters written by young

Lockwood during all this period are elaborate and full of interest to

his parents, but not enlivened with any incidents of public interest.

The garrison courts seem to have demanded very much of his attention,

because of his skill in taking down testimony by short-hand, and he was

frequently compelled to devote many of his sleeping hours to the duty of

writing out his notes.

While going from the fort into town one day, he witnessed what he called

an awful spectacle—three little boys in a state of intoxication. This

recalled the fate of one of his former companions in the East, who had

become a drunkard, and in a letter to his father he recorded the

following: “Liquor is certainly a terrible curse; one constantly sees

illustrations of this in the army. You rather startled me in a recent

letter by telling me you had taken the pledge. Had you departed from

your abstemious habits in this respect? was my first thought, but I was

at once relieved by seeing that your allusion was to something else. A

rule that I have had for a long time and seldom depart from, is not to

drink before sunset and never to do so in a saloon. It is rather

superfluous in me to have any such rules, as it is very seldom that I

have a desire to touch spirituous drinks, and then I partake only for

the sake of not appearing to be rude in social matters.”

On one occasion, after describing a splendid dinner which he had

attended, he branches off upon his own experiences in that line, stating

that he had been caterer for the “Bachelors’ Club” during the current

month, and playing housekeeper for the first time in his life. He was

striving to feed the mess well and to reduce expenses, the individual

assessments amounting to twenty-four dollars.

“We have a good deal of fun,” he says, “at the mess; among other ways,

by a resolution of the officers that I shall keep a record of the puns,

jokes, profane expressions, etc. Any one indulging in these is put back

or set forward on a regular motion and vote by the members, and any one

getting a record of fifteen has to send to the store for a supply of

cigars. One of the mess, having the bad habit of saying, ‘O Lord!’ and

‘Damn it!’ when excited, gets a great many bad marks, and is made

unhappy. The standard of wit being very high, one seldom ‘goes ahead.’”

In May, 1878, when it was doubtful what Congress would do about reducing

the army, and Lieutenant Lockwood thought that he might decide to leave

the service, he discussed with his father the question of future

employment. He thought favorably of a position in some telegraph

company, thereby proving that, in all his studies and leisurely

occupations, he was practical, and no visionary. Another idea that he

had was that he might play Cincinnatus, and again go upon the farm. He

also thought of a position in connection with the Signal Service as one

that would suit him should he, from any cause, be compelled to leave the

army; and this suggestion, taken in connection with his subsequent

career, is notable. He went so far, indeed, as to ask his father about

the practicability of securing such a position in that corps, and

desired especially to know all about the necessary qualifications.

On one occasion, after alluding to the possibility of his being

transferred for duty to some other place, he says that it might be a

good thing for him, as he could not remain at Leavenworth always, and

yet he dreaded to be sent to some “far-distant and isolated post.” When

he wrote those words, how little did he imagine that he would eventually

close his earthly career in a land of supreme desolation within the

Arctic Circle!

Subsequently—July, 1878—he resumed with special earnestness the

consideration of being detailed for duty in the Signal Service, and,

with his father’s approbation, made the proper application. He thought

the proposed transfer would be of benefit to him in many ways, and if he

failed to make it so, he would very quickly be ordered back to his

regiment.

In September he was ordered to St. Louis for the purpose of conducting

some recruits westward, and for a short time it was uncertain whether he

would have to go to Texas or the Territory of Wyoming, whereby were

shown the uncertainties which attend life in the army. He took the

recruits to Fort Laramie, and, on his way, was in danger of being

embroiled with the Cheyenne Indians under Sitting Bull, but returned in

safety, by way of his old camp at Omaha, to his company at Fort

Leavenworth. During another trip, which he soon after took with his

company, he saw in western Kansas many Russian immigrants. They were

poor, and had settled at great distances along the streams to be near

water, not always easily found in these regions. They knew nothing of

the recent outbreak of the Indians, and, indeed, many of them had never

seen an Indian. The lieutenant also stumbled upon a colony of Swedes,

and at one place saw three women, whose husbands had been killed by the

Indians, and who were weeping bitterly in their distress. While his

company was on the march he generally kept at the head of the column,

thereby receiving the title of Pedestrian of the Command. Much of the

country over which they traveled was monotonous in the extreme—wide

stretches of prairie reaching to the far horizon. Antelopes and

Jack-rabbits were frequently seen, and sometimes were fired at without

success. But, to his mind, the most wonderful features about the country

were the countless tracks and bones of the buffalo, while not a living

animal was seen. One of his guides informed him that in former times he

had killed three hundred in a single day, so that it was no wonder that

they were now extinct.

In a letter to one of his sisters, in October, he speaks of his return

from this chase after Cheyenne Indians, and then goes on to mention some

amusing incidents that had occurred at the post, and gives her this bit

of artistic advice: “I hope you will profit by your talent for painting,

_not bury it in the ground, like the foolish steward_. Painting is a

great and very popular accomplishment; there is none perhaps more so.”

No matter what happened in or about the garrison, he seemed always ready

with his common-sense opinions referring to passing events. For example,

after alluding to the burning of a stable, with thirteen mules, when

some of them that had been released ran into the fire from fright, he

thus proceeds: “I was talking ‘over the wire’ with one of the men on our

telegraph line, and what he said is no doubt true, and shows the

short-sightedness of the Government. He said that he and many of the

other soldiers had damaged or lost their clothes, and that if soldiers

were reimbursed for their losses on such occasions, they would work with

much more _vim_ and energy, and that he heard one man say that he would

not lose his new pantaloons for all the mules in the stable. Of course,

in the case of a private house on fire, I believe the enlisted men would

risk everything; but in cases of this kind, where Government property

only is concerned, this feeling has its existence. There is, too, some

reason for this feeling; for, no matter how hard a soldier or officer

may work at a fire to save public property, the Government will not

reward him even by the restitution of his clothes. Nothing short of an

act of Congress would be authority for such an issue.”

That the heart of this young man was as pure as his mind was bright, may

be seen by reading the following remarks concerning the death of a

little niece: “I learn with deep regret the death of poor little Agnes,

and sympathize heartily with Lidie and her husband in their affliction,

the depth of which none but a parent can know. It should be a

consolation, however, that the disease carried the little one away in

all the innocence of childhood, before her mother’s love had been

intensified with years, and her own intelligence had taught her to love

and cling to life. The sad news reached me on the day of the funeral of

the little daughter of a brother lieutenant. The little baby seemed very

amiable in life, and after death lost none of her sweetness. I sat up

with the remains during the night before the funeral.” Alas! when this

noble-hearted young man gave up his own life, his only night-watchers

were the stars and the icy mountains of the far-distant North!

In December, 1878, the Twenty-third Regiment received orders for service

in the Indian Territory, and a few weeks afterward entered upon its line

of march. In the mean time, the lieutenant made himself useful in

performing the duties of an engineer for the sanitary benefit of the

Leavenworth garrison. After some appropriate studying, he soon got the

knack of running the levels and measuring angles with the theodolite. He

found these new duties interesting, preferring the field-work to the

making of the necessary profiles and other drawings, involving

measurements to the ¹/₁₀₀₀ of an inch—rather a confining employment.

V.

ARMY-LIFE IN INDIAN TERRITORY AND COLORADO.

From the spring of 1879 until the winter of 1881, Lieutenant Lockwood

spent a part of his time in the Indian Territory, but chiefly in the

State of Colorado. The first duty of his company was to establish a

cantonment on the Canadian River. On their way thither, they made a halt

at Fort Supply, where the country was sparsely settled, and where the

rolling prairies seemed desolate and interminable. Those of his regiment

who had been ordered to Supply, he found in miserable quarters—log-huts

covered inside with canvas—old, cold, and forlorn in appearance inside

and out, and yet the canvas walls thus used and useless were furnished

at a cost of hundreds of dollars. After leaving that place for the

Canadian River, he was made the engineer officer, and, with a view of

making a map of the route and surrounding country, devoted his time to

the science of topography, being rewarded by the hearty approbation of

the officer in command.

He had counted upon having some good hunting on this route for turkeys

and other game, but was disappointed, owing to the fact, as was

supposed, that several hundred Indians had passed through the country

some weeks before and had gobbled up everything, including a host of

_gobblers_. On reaching their destination, the company went into camp

under a bluff on the Canadian River, where they were to remain until

buildings could be erected in the immediate vicinity. At the conclusion

of his first letter written home from this camp, he says, “I am lying at

full length on a buffalo-robe with my paper on ‘Daniel Deronda,’ and the

position is not comfortable.”

In June, Lieutenant Lockwood was sent with a small party to Post Reno,

where troubles were apprehended with the Indians. It was not necessary

to do any fighting there, however, for the reason that the chief

inhabitants of the region were rattlesnakes, tarantulas, and

prairie-dogs, and the Indians in the vicinity did not seem to be in a

blood-thirsty mood. Returning to the cantonment on the Canadian River,

he was depressed by the discomforts of the place—no society and many

extra duties—but he, nevertheless, found time and inclination to study

the Spanish language, as if determined not to leave a stone unturned in

his efforts to make himself useful, or ready for any emergency. After

confessing his fondness for social intercourse, he writes: “At times I

get the _ennui_ and _blues_ very much. Still I try to preserve a

philosophic mind, and when the dark side of the picture presents itself,

I take a different stand-point, and thus force myself to see, by

contrast, the bright side. I find, and ever have found, that the more

occupied I am, the better contented I feel.”

In April, 1880, he went upon a kind of exploring expedition, riding in

ten days a distance of nearly three hundred miles, and on returning was

glad enough to have a little rest in his camp. But, before he could fall

into any idle habits, he was ordered westward, with his command, on

still more arduous duties. In a letter from a camp near Saguache, on the

borders of Colorado, he sent home the following account of what he had

seen and experienced: “We left Fort Garland on the 17th of May, and have

since been traveling across ‘San Luis Park,’ the ‘Valley of the Gods.’

This is a vast level plain in southern Colorado, surrounded on all sides

by high, snow-capped mountains, which always seem within a few hours’

travel, and yet are miles and miles away. When one considers that Blanco

Peak is over fourteen thousand feet above the sea-level, one does not

wonder that it is very plainly seen from where I am now writing. This

Paradise of the Gods is some two hundred miles long by over sixty

across, and is a veritable desert. I have met nothing like it outside of

Arizona. The vegetation consists of greasewood and sage-brush—sometimes

not even this; the irrigation-ditches that one meets near the few

streams seem hardly able to produce a feeble, stunted grass. For miles

and miles, all is pulverized dust, which, blown by the winds in blinding

clouds, covers everything like the ashes of a volcano. Night before last

one of these _pleasant_ zephyrs blew down several of the tents, and

filled the air so thickly with dust, that several of the command, who

had their hats blown off, were unable to find or recover them. They say

it sometimes rains here, but I very much doubt it. The few ranches we

have encountered are on streams descending from the mountains, which

sink in the plain after running a short distance; and bordering them are

the squalid adobe houses, the only habitations in the country.

“Improbable as it may seem, the owners say that they raise potatoes,

etc. Surely these mountains should be of gold and silver to compensate

for the sterility of the soil.” The prospect did not make Lockwood

hilarious, and he frankly said that he was tired of army-life, and that

eating almost nothing but bacon, and going without any comforts caused

him to sigh for a return to the old Annapolis farm. He had not the

ambition to enjoy the glory of army-life in such a wilderness. It might,

indeed, give one a competency, but it was a gold-mine in Arizona that

had recently given a fortune of fifty thousand dollars to one of the

officers of his regiment. After a short stay at Garland and Alamosa, and

catching a glimpse of the Del Norte, the command reached the Cochetapa

Pass, near Los Pinos and the summit of the Rocky Mountains; and now the

lieutenant began to experience a kind of mountain-fever, which he called

a weird condition of the system. He was troubled with the shortness of

breath usual at great altitudes. The six hundred mules drawing the train

of one hundred wagons had great difficulty in passing through what he

called the terrible cañons. Early in June, 1880, he reached the

Uncompahgre River, where the command encamped. Hardly had he obtained

any relaxation before an order came from Fort Leavenworth, detailing a

general court and making him the judge advocate, thereby proving that

there was not much rest for an officer of recognized ability. While

anxious to make money, he did not, while among the mountains, follow the

example of certain fellow-officers, who devoted some attention to mining

speculations, their mode of operating being as follows: “For example,

they secure the services of a competent man, provide him with food,

etc., and send him out to prospect. Those in the Nineteenth have

received a very flattering letter from their man, who has struck a very

rich vein, _according to his account_. But this and all similar ventures

are mere chance. Money, to the amount of twenty-five or fifty dollars,

seems little to invest in enterprises that may pay thousands; but these

investments count up and are not pleasant to consider when all ends in

failure. One of the officers has invested not less than thirty-three

hundred dollars in this mine-hunting business. He goes it alone, and has

all the enthusiasm of an old miner.” Not caring to waste his money in

speculations of this sort, he improved his leisure in exploring the

scenery of the region, especially some cañons where the walls were

several thousand feet high, and also a stream called Cow Creek, where he

had some superb fishing and caught the largest trout he had ever seen,

while his companions killed a number of deer. Among the scenes in which

he was especially interested was a hot spring which measured thirty feet

across, a waterfall two hundred feet high, and a small mining hamlet

nestled in a pocket of the mountains, and where, funny to relate, he and

his companions were suspected to be tramps or horse-thieves. Returning

to his regular cantonment on the Uncompahgre, he was informed of a

pending trouble with the Ute Indians, when, according to his habit, he

expressed this decided opinion: “If the sentimentalists on Indian

questions in the East could be brought out here and made to feel and

suffer the outrages which these savages inflict on isolated settlers,

there would not be so many to support the Interior Department in its

abominable prejudice in all questions of Whites _vs._ Indians.”

In one of his letters, written from a cantonment in Colorado, he

mentions with pain the temporary fall of one of his brother officers,

who, while playing a game of poker, was charged with dishonesty, thereby

pocketing a hundred dollars. The poor fellow had been placed in arrest

and was to have a trial. In speaking of his manner of killing time in

his Colorado camp, he alludes to the fact of having two setter dogs,

which he was training for use and his own amusement, and further says

that when not playing a game of billiards at the store near the camp, he

spent his time in reading, the books then occupying his attention being,

Tyler’s “Baconian Philosophy,” which he greatly admired; Swinton’s

“History of the Rebellion,” which he criticised with some severity; and

Green’s “Russian Campaign in Turkey,” which interested him greatly.

VI.

PREPARING FOR THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

From this point, the story of Lieutenant Lockwood’s life will be chiefly

given from the records which he kept during his sojourn in the Arctic

regions. For reasons which the general reader will appreciate, all

merely technical and official remarks have been omitted, and only those

retained which are calculated to illustrate the personal character of

the man and officer, it being understood that his journals, illustrating

his merits and labors, will be fully set forth in the official history,

to be hereafter published, of the expedition with which he was so

honorably identified.

In 1880 it was proposed by an International Polar Commission, for the

purpose of elucidating in behalf of science the phenomena of the weather

and of the magnetic needle, that meteorological stations should be

established by various countries in different parts of the polar

regions. The Congress of the United States made an appropriation for

establishing a scientific colony at the two places designated for the

occupation of the Americans—viz., Point Barrow, in Alaska, and Lady

Franklin Bay, in Grinnell Land. These stations were to be occupied for

from one to three years. At the time the expedition was being organized

in Washington for the latter place, Lieutenant Lockwood was on a visit

to his parents in that city. Taking a special interest in the operations

of the Signal-Service Bureau, which had the business in charge, he

forthwith volunteered for the proposed expedition, and his services were

accepted by the Secretary of War. When the party for the Lady Franklin

Bay station was fully organized, it consisted of First-Lieutenant

Adolphus W. Greely, U. S. A., commander; Lieutenants F. F. Kislingbury

and James B. Lockwood, U. S. A., as assistants; and Dr. O. Pavy, as

surgeon and naturalist; with a force of twenty-two sergeants, corporals,

and privates, all connected with the army, and whose names are given as

follows: Edward Israel, Winfield S. Jewell, George W. Rice, David O.

Ralston, Hampden S. Gardiner, sergeants in the Signal Corps; William H.

Cross, sergeant in the general service; David L. Brainard and David

Linn, sergeants of cavalry; Nicholas Saler, corporal of infantry; Joseph

Ellison, corporal of infantry; Charles B. Henry, Maurice Connell, Jacob

Bender, Francis Long, William Whistler, Henry Biederbick, Julius R.

Fredericks, William A. Ellis, and Roderick R. Schneider, privates in

various branches of the army; and, finally, two Esquimaux, Jans Edwards

and Frederick Christiansen, of Greenland.

In view of the possibility that Lady Franklin Bay might become a

permanent station, all the preliminary arrangements were made as

complete as possible. A steamer called the Proteus was secured for

conveying the expedition to Lady Franklin Bay, and she was ordered to

await the arrival of the explorers at the port of St. John’s, in

Newfoundland. Lieutenant Lockwood sailed in a steamer from Baltimore

with the party and reached St. John’s late in June.

Here it may not be out of place to submit a few remarks on the utility

of these Arctic explorations, which are sometimes criticised by people

who, without due consideration, jump to hasty conclusions. In former

times their main object was to find open passages between the northern

regions of Europe, Asia, and America, and to settle the problem of the

north pole; and statistics show that when these expeditions have

confined their operations within reasonable limits, the mortality

attending them has been remarkably small—less than in ordinary

commercial voyages. Sir John Franklin went far beyond these limits, and

left no monuments by which he could be traced. De Long put his ship into

the polar ice with the design of moving with the polar drift. The Greely

Expedition was expected to be confined, and was confined, to the

well-known waters of Smith’s Sound. It could, therefore, be reached at

any time, and, if necessary, it could fall back upon a point accessible

at all times. All that was required to secure its safe return was _a

well-chosen base, and an absolute certainty that this base would be

maintained_. Unfortunately, neither requirement was fulfilled, and hence

nineteen men lost their lives. Sledge-journeys from established bases,

though fraught with great labor and discomfort, have never been attended

with serious loss of life. It is now about one thousand years since the

first Arctic voyage was made, and their aggregate usefulness can hardly

be questioned when we remember that they have developed fisheries that

have built up the commerce and navies of nations, and that the direct

return into the exchange of England has been far more than the cost to

her of all her Arctic explorations. The Polar Commission, already

alluded to, inaugurated a new policy in regard to Arctic explorations,

and one whose utility can not be questioned. It had its origin, in 1875,

in the mind of a German discoverer named Carl Weyprecht; and in the

opinion of many of the leading minds of the world, the meteorological

observations inaugurated by him have done much, and will do much more,

to rectify errors in the polar problem and bring to light information

about the ice zones, which will give the observers a prominent position

in scientific history. According to Professor Joseph Henry, the problems

connected with physical geography and science, which are yet unsolved,

are the determination of the figure and of the magnetism of the earth,

complete knowledge of the tides of the ocean, the winds of the globe,

and the influence of extreme cold on animal and vegetable life. Surely

the men who voluntarily toil and suffer in their efforts to obtain the

needed light on all these subjects, are quite as worthily employed as

those who struggle for riches or political fame. In the Professor’s

opinion, all the branches of science above mentioned are indirectly

connected with the well-being of man, and tend not only to enlarge his

sphere of mental activity, but to promote the application of science to

the arts of life. A French writer, after applauding the plans of the

Polar Commission, concludes his remarks as follows: “The larger number

of the civilized nations are striving by scientific means to wrest the

mysterious secrets of the deep from the hidden recesses of the North.”

In 1884 the number of nations that had entered heartily into the project

was thirteen; fifteen polar stations, and over forty auxiliary stations,

had already been established. That the reader may fully understand the

operations and exploits which are to be chronicled in the subsequent

pages of this volume, it may be well to submit the subjoined extract

from the official report of General W. B. Hazen, Chief of the United

States Signal Service, for the year 1881: “Owing to the very mobile

nature of the atmosphere, the changes taking place on one portion of the

globe, especially in the Arctic zone, quickly affect regions very

distant therefrom. The study of the weather in Europe and America can

not be successfully prosecuted without a daily map of the whole northern

hemisphere, and the great blank space of the Arctic region upon our

simultaneous international chart has long been a subject of regret to

meteorologists. The general object is to accomplish, by observations

made in concert at numerous stations, such additions to our knowledge as

can not be acquired by isolated or desultory traveling parties. No

special attempt will be made at geographical exploration, and neither

expedition is in any sense expected to reach the north pole. The single

object is to elucidate the phenomena of the weather and of the magnetic

needle as they occur in America and Europe, by means of observations

taken in the region where the most remarkable disturbances seem to have

their origin.”

While the foregoing were to be considered as the primary considerations,

it was expressly stated in the official instructions, that sledging

parties, generally, should work in the interests of exploration and

discovery, and should be conducted with all possible care and fidelity.

Careful attention was also to be given to the collection of specimens of

the animal, mineral, and vegetable kingdoms. It will be seen that all

that was accomplished by Lieutenant Lockwood was instigated by the

mandate connected with the use of the sledge.

It thus appears that the Greely expedition was not only intended to

accomplish a good work, but that in all human probability the same might

have been accomplished without serious loss of life. That there was a

deplorable loss of life, we can only lament, leaving for others to point

out the causes of the disaster which befell the expedition.

VII.

FROM NEWFOUNDLAND TO LADY FRANKLIN BAY.

All things being ready, the Greely Expedition left St. John’s,

Newfoundland, for Lady Franklin Bay, on Thursday, July 7, 1881, in the

steamer Proteus, Captain Pike. She was a barkentine, measuring two

hundred and fifty feet in length, and having a burden of six hundred

tons. Built in Scotland for the whaling and sealing service, she had

already made several successful voyages within the Arctic Circle and on

the Labrador coast. The departure of the ship elicited no demonstration

from the people on the dock, excepting a few cheers from some

warm-hearted fishermen. Whether the good people of Newfoundland were

disgusted because they could not sell any more supplies at extravagant

prices, or were displeased with the Yankee explorers for presuming to

compete with Englishmen in the icy North, are questions not to be easily

solved.

During his stay in St. John’s, Lieutenant Lockwood wrote a letter to his

mother, in which he gave the following account of the city:

“St. John’s is a queer and forlorn old place; everything is antiquated,

slow, and behind the times in every respect. The few hotels are more

like third-class boarding-houses; a livery-stable is not to be found in

this city of thirty thousand. This condition of affairs is said to be

due to the religion of the place, which is Roman Catholic. It is charged

that ignorance and poverty are what this church most thrives on, and it

is certainly a thriving church here. The other day the shops were all

closed, and the place assumed the appearance of Sunday—it was a holy day

for their patron saints, Peter and Paul. Only two classes here—the poor

and the rich—and everything accords with the former class. Crooked

streets and mean, forlorn, dirty houses everywhere. The only respectable

public buildings are the Catholic churches and the convents.”

With the wind favorable, the sea calm, the sky clear, and all in good

spirits, away went the vessel on her voyage to the North. A

steam-launch, called the Lady Greely, rested securely on the main deck.

It was arranged that the sergeants of the expedition should sleep in the

cabin, eating at the second table, and the rest of the men live forward;

and, though somewhat crowded, it was hoped they would all be

comfortable. During the first twenty-four hours, two hundred miles were

made. Lieutenant Greely and most of the men were sea-sick. At sunset on

the second day out, the first iceberg was seen, and attracted the

special attention of the land-lubbers. On the 9th, gales from the

northwest set in, and the sick men became worse—the thermometer marking

forty degrees, the air being damp and uncomfortable. The wind moderated

in the evening, but left the sea very rough, so that the steam-launch

had to be secured in her cradle by braces. Although then in the track of

the St. Lawrence trade, not a single vessel was seen, suggesting the

idea that business was not flourishing. As to Lieutenant Lockwood, he

was in good spirits, and amused himself by reading Kennan’s interesting

book on Siberian life. On the following day the sea went down, and the

sick men came up from their berths and were able to resume their places

at the table, Lockwood and Kislingbury being the only ones who had

escaped sea-sickness. When the former had finished Kennan’s book, he

took up Barrow’s “Voyage within the Arctic Circle,” reading it in the

presence of several icebergs, which appeared as if they intended to

welcome the band of Yankee adventurers to their inhospitable domain.

On the morning of the 11th, notwithstanding the promise of fine summer

weather, the sky became overcast, and at noon the captain, assisted by

the volunteers, including Lockwood, Israel, and Gardiner, could hardly

succeed in getting observations, and though they reckoned the latitude

at 58°, it was not reliable. Rain, attended with high winds or gales,

succeeded, the sufferers from sea-sickness finding refuge in their

berths. Ellis, one of the sergeants, suffered more than the others,

having refused all food since leaving port. They could give him no aid

save a little wine and beef-tea. The cold, cheerless weather depressed

the spirits of all, but they hoped to get used to it. The days were

sensibly growing longer, beginning at 1.45 A. M. and closing at 10 P. M.

They now remarked the absence of icebergs and ice-floes, and wondered

whether this meant that the previous winter in the north had been so

mild that but little ice had formed, or that the spring had been so

backward that but little had become detached and drifted southward. They

had learned at St. John’s that the late winter had been the mildest ever

known there. At the close of the 11th, no land was in sight, and they

had made seven hundred miles. The steward informed Lockwood that the men

were growling about their food, which was the same as that received in

the cabin. He thought this a bad sign for Arctic explorers, but tried to

make matters more satisfactory.

The next day was disagreeable, a cold rain falling; and though a strong

head-wind was blowing, the sea was smooth, betokening land or ice, it

was supposed. Accordingly, at 9 P. M., they were aroused by the cry of

“ice ahead,” and, sure enough, there was seen, extending over 90° of the

horizon, the white line indicating an ice-floe. Coming up to the ice,

they found it to consist of detached pieces flowing southward. Some of

these assumed the most fantastic shapes—dogs, seals, and other animals,

and even houses and castles, readily presenting themselves to the

imagination. One piece looked like an old ruin. The pillars, dome, and

vaulted roof, all were there; indeed, the effect was perfect. Again,

other pieces presented varieties of color most beautiful and remarkable.

Generally, the lower parts being dark blue, were surmounted by a stratum

of pure white, resembling snow, but really the purest ice. They were two

hours in getting through this floe. Although daylight was continuous,

they could not, because of fogs, distinguish the hours of sunrise or

sunset.

On the following day the weather was still cloudy, and another ice-floe

detained them two hours. They also saw many isolated pieces and large

icebergs in the distance. This ice, it was said, came from the east

coast of Greenland with a current which, flowing around Cape Farewell,

passes up the west coast half way to Disco. It still proved interesting

to the voyagers by reason of its fantastic shapes and diversified

colors—white, blue, and green. It rose a few feet above the water-line,

and the submerged portion of the floe colored the water a most beautiful

green. Seals were then seen for the first time, basking in the sun on

the ice. Judging from the increased seas, they expected no more

ice-floes in front. The temperature also indicated this, for it was

sensibly warmer. Lockwood, who seemed never to be idle, now finished

Barrow and took up Captain Nares’s “British Expedition of 1875-’76,”

reading, writing, and Bowditch occupying much of his time. The crow’s

nest was hoisted to the main-top on that day. This was a large barrel or

hogshead with peep-holes on the side and a trap beneath. This afforded

shelter for a man posted there who looked out for the ice and the best

way of getting through it.

On the 16th, fogs detained them and interfered with noon observations,

but, lifting at three o’clock, they sighted the Greenland coast on the

starboard bow, distant fifteen miles. The coast-line appeared

exceedingly rugged and broken, and the interior, mountainous with deep

ravines running very abruptly down to the sea. The mountain-tops were

covered with snow, but generally the sides were bare of snow except the

ravines, which seemed to be filled up entirely. This range of mountains

reminded Lockwood of the Uncompahgre chain in Colorado as seen from Los

Pinos Valley. They saw the usual number of gulls and a species of duck

called the sea-pigeon, also several whales blowing and spouting in the

distance, surrounded by flocks of small birds which seemed to feed on

their offal. Kislingbury and the steward tried rifles on these whales,

but without success. One whale being near by, with apparent design to

cross the track of the vessel, was met by the rifle-ball, but with no

other effect than to cause him to throw up his tail and dive below the

surface. The thermometer rose to 50° on that day, rendering the deck,

where all were assembled to view the prospect, quite comfortable. They

then first witnessed the sunset since leaving St. John’s, because of the

fogs and clouds that had constantly attended the voyage. The sun’s disk

seemed greatly flattened just as it disappeared at 10.20, and presented

much the appearance of a huge mushroom seen edgewise. Enough of twilight

remained at midnight to render the horizon visible.

On the 16th, they steamed cautiously through the fog, making but

fourteen knots between noon and 6 P. M. Then the high, bold bluffs

forming the southern coast of Disco Island loomed up in the distance

directly ahead. These bluffs are almost vertical and probably five

hundred feet high, and are desolate and barren in the extreme. Their

continuity is interrupted only by deep ravines, or cañons, which break

through at various angles to the sea. They there found themselves in the

midst of a hundred icebergs of every conceivable form and size, and in

color of the purest white, resembling in the distance huge mountains of

chalk. One of the sights that attracted special notice consisted of two

bergs connected by an immense arch high enough overhead for the ship to

sail beneath, reminding Lockwood of the Natural Bridge of Virginia. On

near approach it looked like marble and was quite as smooth. Some time

afterward, and when two miles away, a signal-gun was fired for a pilot.

This was followed by a rumbling noise, which caused the voyagers to look

back, when they were surprised to see this immense arch tumble over and

fall into the sea, throwing the spray a hundred feet into the air and

producing a commotion of the sea sensible two miles away, and soon after

followed by a noise like distant thunder. Most truly sublime were both

spectacle and catastrophe! Icebergs are regarded as very dangerous both

by the Esquimaux and by experienced Arctic travelers, and are given a

wide berth.

[Illustration: Lockwood, Natives, and Kyack at Disco, Greenland.]

Moving on at a low speed, the steamer was finally boarded by a white man

attended by an Esquimaux, the former introducing himself as Mr.

Gleichen, the Governor of Godhaven, Lively, or Disco, as the capital is

variously called. The vessel was soon twisted through the narrow opening

behind which the town lies, and the voyagers found themselves in the

snuggest and smallest harbor, for its depth of water, that any of the

party had ever seen. On one side were the high cliffs, barren and

rugged, and on the other the few habitations which constituted the

place, the only dwellings presenting an appearance of anything more than

squalid huts being those of the governor and of the inspector, a Mr.

Smith. Besides the dwellings, there were several warehouses and a

church, all of wood. The huts of the natives were to some extent of

wood, but strengthened and made warm by thick walls of sod reaching to

the eaves.

Greely, Kislingbury, and Lockwood immediately went ashore to visit the

inspector, whose house stood near the water and presented a neat

appearance. Within they found quite an air of comfort and refinement. A

piano, a small billiard-table, a well-filled book-case, carpets,

pictures, and many other evidences of civilization and even elegance

were there. They found the wife of the inspector very pleasant and

speaking English fluently, while her daughter and a governess, though

speaking English with difficulty, were well dressed and ladylike. After

taking wine with these hospitable ladies, the lieutenants left their

commander to continue the conversation and wandered forth to view the

town. Passing without mishap several cross-looking Esquimaux dogs, they

found themselves in what seemed a carpenter’s shop, on the large, bare

floor of which a dance was in progress. After playing spectators for

some time they indulged in a waltz with the prettiest girls in the room,

and were surprised and pleased to find how well they got along together.

Their round dances were found to be like many figures of the “German” as

danced in the United States. Kislingbury gave the natives an exhibition

of the Indian dance, and thus became a favorite with them.

The dress of the men consisted of a pair of sealskin pantaloons and a

woolen or checked shirt. That of the women was very peculiar—indeed,

unique. One of the girls, whose dress may be taken to illustrate all,

wore a pair of seal-skin pantalets bound at the hips by a red scarf and

terminating just above the knees, where they met the white canvas tops

of a pair of boots, or rather leggings. These reached to the calf, and

there met the tops of red seal-skin bootlets, into which they were

inserted. These leggings were starched and prettily fringed at the top,

and their color indicated the state as to matrimony of the wearer, white

being reserved for maidens, and colors for those that were married. This

distinction was afterward found to be general. The pantalets were plain,

except some red leather pieces sewed on in front by way of ornament. The

upper garment consisted of a pretty, fancy-colored cassock, or jacket,

extending barely to the hips, replaced in cold weather by the same of

seal-skin with a hood. The upper part of the jacket was concealed by a

necklace, or rather by several necklaces, sewed together flat, which

formed a collar covering the bosom and shoulders. The head was covered

by a kind of chaplet formed of fancy-colored cloth, and the hair was

done up in a queue, which extended upward and backward from the top of

the head, and was tied with colored ribbon. The wrists and neck were

encircled with boas of dark-colored furs, which contrasted well with the

bright-colored skin. The arms were bare to the short sleeves of the

jacket, and on the fingers were a number of rings. So much for the Disco

belles!

The dancing officers did not reach their ship until after midnight, and

soon after the sun rose, flooding all nature with his glorious light,

and seemingly affecting natives and strangers alike, for both were seen

standing around to admire and enjoy the benediction of nature.

Inspector Smith visited the steamer, dressed in a military coat with

brass buttons, and military cap with wide gold-lace band, but wearing

seal-skin trousers. The strangers soon found themselves surrounded by a

fleet of Esquimaux boats, called _kyacks_, resembling in form a cigar

cut in half lengthwise and turned up at both ends. The framework of wood

was covered with seal-skin with the hair removed. In the center was a

hole into which the occupant inserted the lower part of his body to the

hips, drawing up at the same time a cylindrical piece of seal-skin which

was attached to the rim of the hole. When the top of this is gathered up

and secured over his chest, the man and boat are practically one, and

both are water-proof under all circumstances. The upper surface of the

kyack is but an inch or two above the water when smooth, and when rough,

of course it is frequently submerged entirely. In this craft the kyacker

braves the billows of the open sea, and, provided with lance and harpoon

to slay his game, and bladder and rope to mark its flight when struck

and buoy up its body when killed, he attacks the seal, walrus, or even

the narwhal. In South Greenland, where there is more open water, the

kyackers become very expert, and, by means of their short, two-bladed

paddles, can easily right themselves when upset, or even perform a

complete revolution without changing position or posture.

On Sunday, the 17th, Lieutenant Lockwood called on the governor, and

then went into many of the houses of the place; he found the natives

polite and hospitable, living in clean, well-built huts, whose interior

presented nothing peculiar except that about one third of the floor was

raised a few feet, constituting a platform, which was used as the

sleeping-couch of the whole family by night, and by day as a place of

deposit for articles in daily use. The walls were adorned with rough

prints or illustrations from European and American papers. In one house

was seen a translation of the Psalms into Esquimaux. Their words are run

together, as in the German language. Lockwood made some purchases,

giving in return an old pair of pantaloons, old clothes being a

circulating medium, and preferred to money. He was surprised to find

that these people had a paper currency, the units being the ocre and the

crown, one hundred ocres making one crown, while the crown is worth

about an English shilling. In dealing with one another, the ocre seems

to go a good way, but not so when a stranger is dealt with; and to do

much shopping with this currency, one must carry a load of paper equal

to what was required of Confederate currency in wartimes to buy a barrel

of flour. The coins were of copper, valued each at five ocres.

On the following day, Lieutenants Greely, Kislingbury, and Lockwood, all

dined at four o’clock with the inspector’s family, by invitation of his

wife, in the absence of her husband on official duty; the courses being

soup, fish, eider-duck, and canned green peas, with a dessert of jelly;

wines and brandy being served with the courses. The cooking and serving

were excellent, the waitress an Esquimaux damsel in pantalets.

Afterward, with others, they called on the governor, and with him went

down to witness a dance. Lockwood learned that the population of the two

divisions of North and South Greenland together was about nine thousand

souls.

On the 19th, at the request of Lieutenant Greely, Lockwood made an

exploration of the mountain-cliffs south of the town. After a long tramp

over the soggy moss, and up steep cliffs, much annoyed by innumerable

mosquitoes, he returned to dinner, with very little information worthy

of mention. After superintending some stowage, he again called to see

Mrs. Smith, the inspector’s wife, and enjoyed her excellent piano-music,

to say nothing of the wine and cigars she offered. Then he went to the

dance, but not until after the men had left. These Greenland dances, as

already intimated, resemble the Virginia reel, differing only in the

alternate chasing of the partners through the two rows till caught.

Having completed their stowage and coaling, and having taken on board

fourteen dogs with their food, they would have left Disco but for the

fogs. Dr. Pavy, who had been left there by Howgate, joined the party on

the 20th, as surgeon, as Mr. Clay was expected to do at Ritenbank. They

had some music on the chapel organ in the evening, which was well

rendered.

The penning of the dogs was a scene of excitement and amusement. Their

snarling and biting and fighting had no end until one of the number

present was acknowledged, for his prowess and valor, the victor by all

the others. Then the battle ceased, but only until there was a new

arrival, when the battle was renewed and the _parvenu_ put _hors de

combat_, or declared king. In due time the steamer left Disco, and

arrived at Ritenbank between 10 and 12 A. M. The harbor was found to be

quite roomy and the entrance wide and deep; icebergs float into it, and

thus render Ritenbank less desirable as a harbor than Disco. While

there, with Mr. Clay (who now joined the expedition) and some of the

men, Lockwood visited the neighboring bird mountains or looneries,

rowing up a fiord some three miles distant. The approach to these was

manifested by the commotion among the innumerable eider-ducks and other

wild fowl flying overhead, swimming in the water around, or occupying

the narrow ledges of the vertical cliffs on either side, some of which

were five hundred feet high and covered with birds. The shot used being

too small, would kill only at short range, and it was difficult to

obtain the game; consequently they got only seventy fowls of various

kinds. On their return they visited an Innuit burying-ground, which,

from its antiquity, must contain many of the natives, whose blood is

much purer than that of the present stock; for it is said the present

Esquimaux blood is now very much mixed. The graves were oblong piles of

lichen-covered stones, containing the moldering skeletons, which were

generally in a sitting posture. But little regard is paid to the dead in

Greenland. Influenza, and consumption induced thereby, are rapidly

carrying off the natives, and this is increased by uncleanly habits,

improper food, and bad ventilation, the latter aggravated by the

introduction of small stoves into their close houses. The present

longevity, it is said, averages thirty-three years.

The prevailing fogs greatly decreased the pleasure the explorers would

have had in viewing the grand scenery in the passage to Upernavik, which

they reached on the 23d of July, or in about fifteen days from

Newfoundland. They had in sight numbers of icebergs, some of immense

size. The whole western coast of Greenland is skirted with islands,

separated from each other and the mainland by deep fiords. If it were

not for the fogs, a pleasant summer excursion could be made through

these fiords to the everlasting barrier of glaciers, which render the

interior a veritable land of desolation.

Very soon after the expedition had arrived at Upernavik, it was found

necessary for some one to go to a place called Proven, to obtain

Esquimaux guides and a supply of Arctic clothing, and to Lieutenant

Lockwood was assigned this duty. He and his helpers boarded the

steam-launch, and, with Governor Elburg as guide, proceeded on their way

through an inner passage leading to the place of destination. Their

course lay along rocky and precipitous cliffs, many of them covered with

auks and other wild fowl. The cliffs attained an elevation of two and

three thousand feet, and were so smooth and regular as to have the

appearance of having been made by man. Without any shore whatever, large

ships could lie alongside in safety. On their arrival at Proven, they

saw the whole population in their picturesque costumes lining the shore,

to view what they had never seen before—a craft moving without oars or

sails.

Near the shore were located four large warehouses where seal-oil was

deposited before shipment, and where also were kept by the Danish

Government supplies of provisions for issue to the natives in case of

emergency. The huts of the natives were found still more primitive than

those at Disco, for here the entrance was through a long, low gallery,

requiring one to grope in darkness almost on hands and knees. Lockwood

softened the heart of the occupant of one by presents of tobacco, and

induced him to play on his fiddle simple airs which he had picked up

from whaling-crews. This brought in all the damsels of the town, and

soon waltzes and other dances prevailed. The lieutenant did not consider

it beneath his dignity to “show a heel.” He unfortunately answered

affirmatively to the question, “Are you big captain?” and was also

imprudent in giving an old lady a half-dozen ocres. He was at once

pounced upon by every one as lawful prey, and, what through begging,

extortion, and other means, the “big captain” was soon rid of all his

change, and might have been reduced to a state of nudity but for the

timely arrival of the governor, who took him home to dine and to lodge.

The soup, though sweet to the taste, was good; floating in it were

lemon-peel and raisins. Next came reindeer-steaks cooked in wine and

most delicious. Potatoes were the only vegetable. Cooking and serving

excellent. Brandy, beer, and wine in profusion. The meal terminated by a

general hand-shaking, according to custom, and the governor kissed his

wife. The lodging was equally agreeable, affording the luxury of a clean

feather bed. In the morning, and while yet in bed, a young Esquimaux

damsel in pantalets brought the American a cup of strong coffee with a

few crackers. That day he took on board the launch two Esquimaux,

Frederick Christiansen and Jans Edwards, lashing their kyacks behind,

also the seal-skin, dog-skin, and other clothing they had come for, and

at midnight left amid the hearty cheers of the natives and the tears and

lamentations of the friends of Jans and Frederick who had come to see

them off.

After an uneventful passage, and stopping only to add one hundred and

twenty-seven birds to their larder, the launch reached the ship at 10 A.

M. on the 25th. Lieutenant Kislingbury and a crew in the whale-boat

afterward went to Sanderson’s Hope Island and secured several hundred

more, so that there was no scarcity of fresh food. In the mean time some

new dogs were secured, so that the total number now on hand was

thirty-two.

The ship left Upernavik on the 29th, and, keeping the inner passage,

made her way toward the north.

While crossing Melville Bay on the 30th, there was no ice in sight

except bergs, and the sun shone brightly. That state of things was a

great surprise to the explorers, as here it was that McClintock was

frozen in for a whole year, and Nares congratulated himself in having

passed the bay without detention. Indeed, Melville Bay has always been

regarded as the _bête noire_ of Arctic travel. An Arctic bear found on a

broken pack of floating ice was killed by Lieutenant Kislingbury, and,

when hoisted on board, was found to weigh a thousand pounds and to

measure seven feet two inches in length. They were probably fifty miles

from land at the time.

On the last day of July, the Proteus party sighted land, which they

supposed to be Cape Dudley Diggs, north of Melville’s Bay. Much old

floating ice was seen, but so rotten as to offer no obstruction. Several

seals and many little auks were killed and secured.

About this time Lockwood and others observed tokens of disrespect and

insubordination on the part of some of the men, which were traced to a

certain corporal as ringleader. Lockwood watched him with care, and

urged the propriety of sending him home by the first opportunity, which

was afterward done.

On one occasion, toward evening, the voyagers witnessed the overturning

of an iceberg three hundred feet long and one hundred and fifty feet

high. After capsizing, it continued to revolve on several axes for some

time. Its change of base was preceded by the fall of several detached

pieces, thus shifting its center of gravity.

The next day, August 1st, was clear and cool, and without fog. Passed

Dudley Diggs at noon and then steered for Gary Islands, sighting them

three hours later. The officers looked hard for the crimson cliffs near

Dudley Diggs noticed by Sir John Ross, but observed only some slight

discoloration of the snow. The glacier near this cape seemed to be two

or three miles long; at the sea-shore, of inconsiderable height, but in

the background, attaining an imposing elevation. The ship’s compasses,

as usual in this latitude, were all crazy, occasioning some bewilderment

to the captain. The bear and seal meats were duly served on shipboard,

and pronounced palatable by all, though to some the bear-meat was

slightly fishy. Two boats with all the officers and others landed on the

most easterly of the Cary Islands, and proceeded at once to find and

inspect the _cache_ of provisions—thirty-six hundred rations—left there

by Sir George Nares for his own safety. They were apparently in good

condition, notwithstanding many of the barrels resting on their ends

afforded opportunity for rain and snow-water to enter. Some biscuits

were found moldy. Replaced the Nares record by a copy, and also left a

full record of the Proteus. There was found there an excellent

whale-boat, turned bottom upward, with oars and sails complete. This

Lockwood urged Lieutenant Greely to take along, but he preferred getting

the one at Foulke Point. The former regarded the supply of boats as too

small, and circumstances might arise which would cause them to regret

not using this one. They had only the steam-launch, a twenty-four-feet

whale-boat, and a small, fourteen-feet row-boat—the whale-boat being the

only one to be depended on in case of accident. The boat at Point Foulke

was thought to be inferior. They picked up driftwood, an oar, and some

burned pieces of a ship’s stem or stern. They also saw some red snow,

and shot several eider-ducks. The Cary Islands were found to be barren

masses of rocks without vegetation.

The steamer came to anchor at Littleton Island at 9 A. M. on the 2d of

August, just as the steering-gear gave way. A party went to “Life-boat

Cove” and brought back a number of articles left by the Polaris

Expedition of 1873. They saw neither Esquimaux nor reindeer, but shot a

walrus. Lieutenant Greely made an effort to find the cairn left there by

Nares, and the letters left for Nares by the Pandora. He found the

letters but not the cairn, though there was a dismantled cairn afterward

seen by others. Lockwood with a party of men put ashore several tons of

coal, which, as it had to be carried up some thirty feet above the

sea-level, he found no easy job. While thus engaged, this party had an

adventure with some walruses, not unattended with danger. Having excited

a drove of them by a simultaneous fire, the animals came toward the

boat, and at one time held its inmates in peril. Lockwood alone was

prepared to meet the foremost, and by good luck slew one of them, when

all the rest disappeared. The walrus can be killed only through the

brain, and when wounded, the animal is exceedingly ferocious. Numberless

boats have been destroyed by them. Lamont thinks the walrus superior to

the bear for food. Those they saw were evidently a female and her young,

and their safety was in having killed the mother. Littleton Island

affords a good illustration of these shores. The sides rise

precipitously, sometimes in steps composed of immense cubes of

trap-rock, sometimes in steep slopes formed from the crumbling of the

same. The top of the island is seven hundred feet high, according to

Nares, and generally quite level. Of soil, there is none. The summit

afforded a fine view of the sound, though somewhat obstructed by fog. No

floating ice; and the western coast with its snowy mountains quite

distinct.

Having crossed the strait during the night of the 2d of August, in the

early morning they ran along the western coast, which was very distinct

and picturesque, the bluffs and headlands being reflected by the smooth

sea. Striking the western coast near Cape Sabine, at 8 A. M. they

reached Cape Hawkes, a headland over a thousand feet high and very

picturesque. While Lieutenants Greely and Kislingbury visited the cairn

there, Dr. Pavy and Lieutenant Lockwood went to find the record on

Washington Irving Island, both left by Nares. They then continued their

way with slight interruptions from fogs until abreast of Franklin

Island, when they were obliged to lay-to because of fog. They had not

been delayed a moment by ice, and were surprised to see so little of it.

Their success emboldened them to hope that they might reach Lady

Franklin Bay without obstruction. Indeed, they even thought of inducing

Captain Pike to run on until he reached the north pole itself, or at

least till he attained a higher latitude than did Nares. One of the dogs

having died, they became impressed with the thought that the poor curs

suffered much from being cooped up and from the damp weather. The party

continued on their way up Kennedy Channel with everything favorable,

having the finest weather yet seen; air soft and balmy, sky clear, and

water smooth.

On reaching the vicinity of Franklin Island and Carl Ritter Bay, they

left there a small deposit of hard bread, pemmican, and rum, and

continued on their way rejoicing; and so onward until nearly 10 P. M.,

when, just above Cape Lieber, they encountered an impenetrable pack

extending all the way across the channel, and as far ahead as they could

see. The ship made a savage dash at it, but in vain, and thus, but eight

miles from Lady Franklin Bay, and with Cape Baird in full view, they

were brought to a standstill. The mountains along the coast were covered

with snow, but the valleys and low places were bare. The prominent

objects of the landscape were all distinctly seen from their

position—Capes Lieber and Baird on the left, Franklin, Hans, and Hanna

Islands in the rear and left, and, in the far distance, Polaris

Promontory and Petermann’s Fiord, with the glacier beyond. A party that

went on shore saw traces of the musk-ox, but no animals were seen.