Distance traveled. Time.
Adv Tr Add Tot Adv Tr MPH
Miles—Geographical. Hours. Geo. M.
OUT.
Fort Conger to Boat 48 67 157 224 21½ 28¼ 2·23
Camp
Boat Camp to 36 86 25 111 18¾ 44⅓ 1·92
sea-coast
Sea-coast to Cape 37½ 103½ 12 113 21½ 47¹/₁₂ 1·74
Bryant
Cape Bryant to Cape 60 118 .. 118 32 55⁵/₁₂ 1·87
Britannia
Cape Britannia to 95 95 .. 95 39⅔ 48⅙ 2·39
farthest
Total (out) 267½ 469½ 194 701 133½ 223¾ 2·07
BACK.
Farthest to Cape 95 95 .. 95 37⅓ 41¾ 2·52
Britannia
Cape Britannia to 60 60 .. 60 25¾ 28 2·33
Cape Bryant
Cape Bryant to Boat 61½ 61½ .. 61½ 27¼ 36½ 2·25
Camp
Boat Camp to Fort 48 48 .. 48 22½ 28⅓ 2·13
Conger
Total (back) 264½ 264½ .. 264½ 112⅚ 134²/₁₂ 2·34
Aggregate (out and 541 734 194 965½ 245¹¹/₁₂ 357⅚ 2·20
back)
Aggregate (out and 623 .. .. 1069
back) in statute
miles
Key to Headings:
Adv: Advanced.
Add: Additional miles traveled.
Tr: Traveled.
Tot: Total.
MPH: Number of miles per hour.
The word “advanced,” both here and in the journal, refers to the
simple distance from camp to camp, and the actual time occupied in
making that distance—all stops _deducted_.
The word “traveled” includes total number of miles traveled—the
number of miles advanced added to those traveled in going back and
forth in “doubling up.” The time corresponding refers to the whole
time from leaving one camp to arriving at the next, all stops
included.
The “additional miles” refer to incidental journeys not numbered as
marches.
The rate per hour is computed from the distance and time _advanced_.
The whole statement is confined to the dog-sledge.
XVII.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
The time having arrived, the final orders were given for the Arctic
exiles to make ready for the first stage of travel leading to their
far-distant home. They were now to leave the station at Fort Conger,
and, as best they could, find their way to Littleton Island, where
they hoped to meet a vessel that would take them back to
Newfoundland. They were to depart in boats, viz., the steam-launch
Lady Greely, a whale-boat, an English boat of which they had come
into possession, and a still smaller affair, that might prove
serviceable for special purposes.
The journal kept by Lieutenant Lockwood after his departure from
Fort Conger was written in short-hand, as always while in the field,
and is a very complete record. In the following pages, only a brief
summary of purely personal incidents will be attempted, without
presuming to give the phraseology of the youthful explorer.
On the 9th of August, the little fleet pushed off from shore, laden
with the twenty-five adventurers and a comfortable supply of
provisions. They reached Bellot Island without much trouble, but
afterward encountered a good deal of ice, and, while working very
hard to get through, Rice accidentally fell overboard, which was for
him a poor beginning. The ice continued to be troublesome until the
close of the next day, when the boats were so severely nipped that
they had to be drawn up on the floe. Afterward, open water appearing
all the way across the fiord, the launch and the other boats made a
successful crossing nearly opposite Sun Bay. They reached the depot
near Cape Baird, at about 2 P. M., up to which hour, from the time
of leaving Fort Conger, they had not been able to secure any sleep,
nor anything to drink but cold water. Reaching Cape Lieber on the
11th in a snow-storm, they landed on a bluff about a mile from the
cape, where they waited for the ice to move, so that they might
continue on their route toward the south along the western shore of
the strait. The only animals seen in that vicinity were two
narwhals, fighting near the shore. The fog now became so very dense
that no headway could be made, and this gave them an opportunity to
obtain some needed rest. Their next advance was in the midst of a
severe storm of wind and snow, in spite of which they reached Carl
Ritter Bay on the morning of the 12th. The next morning, while they
had open water near the shore, they discovered ice-barriers
extending to the south as far as they could see. At this point a
young seal was killed, which was greatly enjoyed by all of the
party; but this luxury, in the case of Lockwood, was counterbalanced
by the discomfort of sleeping on shore without any protection
excepting that of his bag. He also spent several nights on a
floe-berg, where, by laying his sleeping-bag on a sheep-skin, he
slept more comfortably. From the 13th until the 20th, when the party
reached Rawlings’s Bay, it was a continual conflict with floating
ice, snow-storms, and fog, the monotony of the struggle having been
broken by an accident to the launch, and also one to Lieutenant
Greely, who had a fall into the water, from which he was rescued
without harm. At all the places where they encamped, they had great
difficulty in securing a safe harbor for the launch. Having passed
across Richardson Bay in safety and reached Cape Collinson, they
found about one hundred and twenty, out of two hundred and forty,
English rations which had been deposited there, the missing portion
having been eaten by the foxes. On the 22d they reached Scoresby
Bay, where observations of the strait showed it to be full of
floating ice; and in this vicinity they were brought to a halt by
the ice-pack near the shore at Cape John Barrow. Here the boats were
pulled up on the floe, and, as the thick sludge-ice was all around,
no open water in sight, and the supply of coal getting very low, the
prospect was gloomy in the extreme. When able to continue on their
course, the travelers were still greatly troubled by heavy fogs, and
while passing over a space of open water, abounding in floe-bergs
which could not be seen, they were in constant danger of being lost.
Notwithstanding all these obstacles, they pushed their way onward,
and in due time reached Cape Louis Napoleon, Cape Hawks, and
Princess Marie Bay, when they were again stopped by the floating
ice, and detained by the newly formed ice.
In his desire to comply with the order as to weight of baggage,
Lockwood had left his seal-skin coat at Fort Conger, but this step
he afterward regretted, as the weather continued stormy, and he was
greatly exposed to the cold. To this was added the misfortune of
having a badly fitting seal-skin boot which gave him great pain, so
that he had to resort to a pair of moccasins. When the boats were
caught in floes and detained for days, the only exercise available
was that of walking over the level floes. Some of the men were wont
to march around, under the light of the moon, singing aloud their
wild and uncouth songs. When tired of walking, Lockwood would creep
into a cozy corner of the launch, and pore over a pocket copy of
Shakespeare which he had fortunately brought along; and then, after
getting into his sleeping-bag, his thoughts would wander far away
and find expression in such words as these: “What are they doing at
home? How often I think of the dear ones there! The dangers and
uncertainties ahead of us are only aggravated by the thoughts of the
concern felt by them on my account. Most of us have given up the
idea of getting home this fall.”
On the 3d of September, while in the floe below Cape Hawks,
Lieutenant Greely held a consultation with Lockwood, Kislingbury,
Pavy, and Brainard, expressing the opinion that their situation was
critical, and that they were really working for their lives. One of
the suggestions was that the launch should be abandoned, and further
progress made in the smaller boats along the western shore of the
strait; but to this, Greely and the majority objected, still hoping
that they might yet be able to reach Littleton Island through a lead
or over the young ice. On the 6th the hunter Jans killed his fourth
seal, and was rewarded by a drink of rum. After five more days of
travel, and while approaching Cocked-Hat Island, there was a great
excitement caused by the report that one of the men had heard the
barking of dogs, whereupon guns were fired and a flag displayed; but
all the commotion ended in nothing. The tides were contrary, the
small boat was abandoned, and the outlook was very gloomy. The
faithful Esquimaux, Frederick, who had latterly been somewhat
unlucky as a hunter, now came to the front by killing a seal that
weighed six hundred pounds, receiving the usual drink of rum. On
this occasion Lockwood mentioned that he swallowed a cupful of the
seal’s blood, and found it somewhat tasteless. On the 5th of
September, the party after great labor came abreast of Victoria Head
and Cape Albert, and while drifting along on the floe the American
flag was hoisted over the launch, and the fire under the engine was
put out to save coal, Lockwood enjoying a little needed sleep. On
the 7th they came in sight of the coast extending from Alexander
Harbor to Cape Sabine, and the impossibility of proceeding in the
launch becoming apparent, it was decided to resort to sledge-travel,
two of the sledges to carry a boat each, and both of them to be
drawn by the men. When they were fully prepared for moving, it was
found that one of them weighed 1,700 pounds and the other 2,100
pounds. Owing to the various difficulties which soon beset the
travelers, they were obliged to abandon one of the boats, whereby it
became necessary to retrace several sections of the journey for the
purpose of bringing on the extra supplies, thus adding greatly to
the fatigue of the men. Lockwood now expressed his doubts as to
whether he would live to write out his notes, and also his fears
that the floe upon which the party then were, might take them down
into Baffin’s Bay. Not only were they at the mercy of the floe, but
the currents were contrary, sludge-ice abundant, and their supply of
food reduced to seal-blubber, bread, and tea. At one time, strange
to say, their position in the straits was directly north of
Littleton Island, and nearer the Greenland coast than that of
Grinnell Land. It now seemed to Lockwood that there was nothing
ahead of them but starvation and death, and yet the men kept up
their spirits in a manner that greatly surprised him. One of the
floes upon which they had drifted for many days, when found to be
cracking in one or two places, caused the party to move upon another
nearer the shore, and in a short time the floe previously occupied
was entirely broken up. On the 29th of September, the floe on which
they were floating, finally touched another toward the west, and
that another connected with the shore, by which means they were
enabled to reach the land, very thankful to be in a place of
security once more. The locality was really a rock forming a
promontory between two glaciers, and thought to be about thirteen
miles directly south of Cape Sabine. To that place a reconnoitring
party was at once sent, but the cape could not be reached on account
of open water near it, and the party was compelled to return. In the
mean time, arrangements were made for building out of stones and ice
the necessary huts for protection during the coming winter, should
it be their fate to remain there. While this work was progressing,
it was decided that the daily rations would have to be reduced.
Lockwood expressed the opinion that they had only three chances for
their lives: first, the chance of finding an American _cache_ at
Cape Sabine; secondly, a chance of crossing the straits, here
thirty-five miles wide, when their provisions were gone; thirdly,
the chance of being able to kill enough game for their support
during the winter. A second effort was made by Rice and a party to
reach Cape Sabine, which was successful. They not only brought news
about the wreck of the Proteus, but also a copy of the Army Register
for 1883, in which appeared Lockwood’s name as a first lieutenant.
Rice also succeeded in discovering the English _cache_ with two
hundred and forty rations, the _cache_ left by the Neptune in 1882,
and the stores brought from the wreck of the Proteus in 1883, all of
which information was hailed with delight by the party. Among the
stores left by the Proteus, a newspaper slip was picked up, from
which was gathered the news that President Garfield had died; that
the Jeannette had been lost; and that serious apprehensions were
felt in the United States about the fate of the Greely Expedition.
This latter intelligence gave Lockwood great pain, seeming almost
prophetic, except in the remark “lying down under the great stars to
die!” and induced him to make this record: “This article gives me
great pain, because of the alarm and sorrow which must be felt by my
dear father and mother and sisters on my behalf. Should my ambitious
hopes be disappointed, and these lines only, meet the eyes of those
so dear, may they not in thought add to my many faults and failings
that of ingratitude or want of affection in not recording more
frequently my thoughts regarding them!”
One of the results of the trip made by Rice to Cape Sabine was the
selection of a spot, between the cape and Cocked-Hat Island, for a
home during the approaching winter. Here, officers and men alike
laboring, a new hut was built, which was forthwith occupied by the
party, all the supplies being at once brought from the camp south of
Cape Sabine. The place where they now found themselves established,
Lieutenant Greely called Camp Clay, in honor of one of the party—a
grandson of Henry Clay—who had been attached to the expedition until
it reached Lady Franklin Bay, whence he returned home on account of
his health. As soon as the new hut was occupied, the announcement
was made that six of the party were on the sick list; but shortly
afterward, and notwithstanding the deplorable condition of affairs,
Lockwood recorded the following in his journal: “We are all now in
comparatively high spirits, and look forward to getting back to the
United States with a great deal of certainty. We shall have to live
on half-rations or less until April, and there will be shortness of
fuel. Many hardships are obvious, but we all feel sound again.”
On the 23d of October, twelve of the party went from Camp Clay upon
a visit to Cape Sabine, and, while some of them opened the English
_cache_ at the south side of Payer Harbor, Lockwood built a cairn
there and deposited under it, among other things, the records of the
expedition, with a note in lead-pencil to the following effect:
“_October 23, 1883._—This cairn contains the original records of the
Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, the private journal of Lieutenant
Lockwood, and a set of photographic negatives. The party is
permanently encamped at a point midway between Cape Sabine and
Cocked-Hat Island. All well.
“J. B. Lockwood,
“_First Lieutenant Twenty-third Infantry._”
On their way back to Camp Clay, Dr. Pavy met with an accident to one
of his feet, and, while most of the party went on, Lockwood and
Ellison remained behind to look after him. When night came on, they
lost their way, stumbling and floundering over the rubble-ice until
overcome by fatigue and hunger; but were revived by a limited mutton
stew on their arrival at the camp. One of the results to Lockwood of
his Samaritan conduct was an accident to one of his knees, which
gave him trouble for several days, and prevented his being as useful
as he desired in contributing to the comfort of the party. It was
about this time that Lieutenant Greely declared his intention of
reducing the rations, all assenting, so that they might last until
the 1st of March; and this fact, added to the discovery that some of
their meat was far more bony than it should have been, caused some
consternation. Cold, dampness, darkness, and hunger continued to be
their hourly and daily portion, the allowance of food being only
about one fourth of what they actually needed.
XVIII.
THE FINAL CATASTROPHE.
While the following pages will contain necessarily brief notices of
the life of the party during an entire winter, they must conclude
with the record of the great calamity which befell the band of
heroes. Shortly after they found themselves settled for a campaign
of idleness, as they expected it to be, Lockwood was again confined
to his sleeping-bag on account of an injury to his feet which had
not been properly protected; his discomforts being aggravated by the
reflection that both provisions and fuel were beginning to reach a
low-tide level. The constant hunger which was experienced by all
hands went far to make their circumstances dismal and depressing;
while the only entertainment that could be provided was the reading
aloud, by one of the men, of a story and some newspaper scraps which
Rice had picked up at Cape Sabine. A little excitement was afforded
by a lottery for the distribution of some clothing and two
mattresses which had been brought ashore from the Proteus, one of
the latter falling to the lot of Lockwood. And now came a
proposition for a sledge expedition, not to discover islands,
glaciers, fiords, and prominent capes, but to go after the abandoned
whale-boat which had floated down with the floe. This must be broken
up and used for fuel. Then followed another expedition, occupying
not less than eight days, to Cape Isabella, to obtain one hundred
pounds of preserved meat left there by the English. Feeling the want
of exercise, Lockwood occasionally took a long walk, and on one
occasion was so hungry when he returned, that he could not wait for
the regular evening meal, but fastened upon a lot of moldy potatoes
which had been abandoned, and with these filled his stomach, almost
expecting that the feast would cause his death. Some of the men went
still further, for, when a blue or a white fox was killed, even the
entrails of the animal were devoured. Food was the constant subject
of conversation with all of the party—what they would be able to
get, what they had enjoyed in former years at their distant homes,
and what they expected to enjoy after their return from the North.
Not only were their supplies getting lower day by day, but the only
warm thing they could now afford was a cup of tea, excepting on
Sunday, when they had a little rum with a bit of lemon.
On the 25th of November, the sun disappeared from view, not to be
seen again until the following February, and now the gloom of the
time and place was greatly increased. On that day Lockwood recorded
in his journal the following: “I have intended writing a letter home
recounting my experiences since leaving Fort Conger, but so far the
discomforts of this life have prevented me. It is difficult to get
the blubber-lamp for more than a few minutes during the day, and
sometimes it can not be had at all. The lamp is blown out every
evening when we are ready to retire, which is generally about eight
o’clock.”
Nor were their troubles in any way alleviated by the discovery that
one of the men had been seen, or was suspected of, visiting the
store-room to fill himself with food—especially despicable thieving.
The expedition to Cape Isabella resulted in finding the food which,
however, was abandoned in returning, as one of the men, Ellison,
became very sick, and had his hands, feet, and nose frozen. He was
brought home by a relief party in a helpless condition, Lockwood and
the other men of the party having completely worn themselves out by
exposure to the cold and hard work. As it was feared that the men
would become insane if they did not stop talking about food,
Lieutenant Greely began to deliver some lectures on the geography of
the United States and their natural productions; and this was
followed by miscellaneous discussions in regard to places for
business. Whistler, for example, praised the city of Independence,
in Kansas, as a splendid place; Long said he was going to set up a
restaurant at Ann Arbor in Michigan; Fredericks would follow suit at
Minneapolis in Minnesota; while Jewell counted upon a grocery-store
in Kansas.
After commenting upon the terrible weather, Lockwood gave expression
to the following: “These short rations make me feel the cold
dreadfully. It is a constant effort to keep one’s hands and feet
comfortable, or even comparatively so. I find my spirits first up
and then down. Sometimes, when I think of the months before us of
this life of misery and suffering, I do not see how we can possibly
pull through. At other times I feel much more hopeful; but this is a
life of inexpressible misery.”
For several days before the arrival of Thanksgiving-day, a great
feast was anticipated and on that day enjoyed, including a favorite
dish called by them “_son-of-a-gun_,” composed of bread, raisins,
milk, and a little blubber; nor did the exiles omit the reading of a
few chapters from the Bible. In the evening Lockwood entertained the
party with his experiences as a farmer at Annapolis, all being
interested, and he wound up by inviting the whole of the company to
assemble there and enjoy a dinner with him on the next
Thanksgiving-day, the said dinner to be composed in part of a roast
turkey stuffed with oysters and eaten with cranberries. In return
for this compliment, each one of the audience invited Lockwood to
partake with him of a feast after their return home, and expatiated
with great gusto on the dishes that he proposed to have served. The
promise made by Lynn was a roasted turkey; Ralston, hot hoe-cake;
Ellis, spare-rib; Long, pork-chops; Biederbick, old regiment dish
called buffers; Connell, Irish stew; Bender, a roasted pig; Snyder,
tenderloin-steak; Brainard, peaches and cream; Fredericks, black
cake and preserves; Saler, veal cutlets; Whistler, flapjacks and
molasses; Jewell, roasted oysters on toast; Rice, clam-chowder;
Israel, hashed liver; Gardiner, Virginia pone; Ellison, Vienna
sausage; Pavy, _pâté-de-fois-gras_; Henry, Hamburg steak;
Kislingbury, hashed turkey, chicken, and veal; Greely, Parker House
rolls, coffee, cheese, omelette, rice, and chicken curry. It was
after this jolly discussion of imaginary good things that the party
sat down to a stew of seal-blubber and nothing more. The next day
Lockwood partook of his first dish of seal-skin which he found as
hard to digest as it was difficult to swallow.
On one occasion, when nearly all were asleep, a scratching noise was
heard upon the roof, and it was ascertained that a blue fox was
trying to make an entrance. The same night the ears of the sleepers
were saluted by a loud roar, caused by the ice moving down the
straits, a sound most terrible to human nerves. At one time, after
Lockwood had expressed his gratitude for enjoying warm feet for a
whole night, he resumed the subject of food, and then penned the
following: “My mind dwells constantly on the dishes of my childhood
at home. O my dear home, and the dear ones there! Can it be possible
I shall some day see them again, and that these days of misery will
pass away? My dear father, is he still alive? My dear mother and
sisters, Harry, and my nieces and brothers-in-law, how often do I
think of them! Only three days more to the top of the hill!”
(alluding to the longest night, or winter solstice).
“As to my bread, I always eat it regretfully. If I eat it before
tea, I regret that I did not keep it; and if I wait until tea comes
and then eat it, I drink my tea rather hastily and do not get the
satisfaction out of the cold meat and bread I otherwise would. What
a miserable life, where a few crumbs of bread weigh so heavily on
one’s mind! It seems to be so with all the rest. All sorts of
expedients are tried to cheat one’s stomach, but with about the same
result. By way of securing the idea of a warm piece of meat, I
sometimes pour upon it a bit of my hot tea, but the effort proves
futile.”
On the 21st of December, the day which Lockwood had long been
anticipating with pleasure, he expressed his gratification in these
words: “The top of the hill! the most glorious day of this dreary
journey through the valley of cold and hunger has at last come, and
is now nearly gone. Thank God, the glorious sun commences to return,
and every day gets lighter and brings him nearer! It is an augury
that we shall yet pull through all right.” In view of his ultimate
fate, how unutterably touching are these hopeful words!
Before the close of that day, however, he made another record in his
journal, which forcibly illustrates their deplorable condition, as
follows:
“Had a good fox-stew this evening. By a great effort I was able to
save one ounce of my bread and about two ounces of butter, for
Christmas. I shall make a vigorous effort to abstain from eating it
before then. Put it in charge of Biederbick as an additional
safeguard.”
Among the entertainments enjoyed by the party were lectures by
Lieutenant Greely on the several States of the Union. After one of
them, on Louisiana, had been delivered, Lockwood added to it an
account of his trip from Baltimore to Texas, and that from New
Orleans to Cincinnati, all of which narrative was well received.
For several days before Christmas, all were eagerly looking forward
to the grand forthcoming dinner and talking about it, a number of
them, like Lockwood, saving up a part of their scanty daily
allowance for the occasion. Lockwood mentioned that when he proposed
to exchange the promise of a fine Christmas-dinner on their return
home for a piece of dog-biscuit delivered at once, he found no one
ready to accept his _liberal_ offer. The Christmas-dinner was
similar to that on Thanksgiving-day; various songs were sung, and,
at the close of the feast, hearty cheers were given for Lieutenant
Greely, Corporal Ellison, Rice the photographer, and the two cooks.
On Christmas-night all the party enjoyed a refreshing sleep, and the
next day there was much talk about the distant homes and friends.
Lockwood was greatly pleased to learn that his comrades had formed a
high opinion of his father from what Greely and he had occasionally
told them; and, while describing the family reunions in Washington,
he was affected to tears for the first time during his Northern
campaign, excepting when Rice had come from Esquimaux Point with the
Garlington records, when his tears were the result of gratitude.
In a region where eating had become pre-eminently the chief end of
man, it is not strange that the business of marketing should have
become popular. How it was managed may be gathered from the
following paragraph: “To-day has been a market-day, everybody
trading rations—bread for butter, meat for bread, bread for soup,
etc. A great deal of talking done, but not many solid trades made. I
traded about half of my to-morrow’s _son-of-a-gun_ for about eight
ounces of bread; then I gave Brainard one ounce and a half of butter
for two dog-biscuits, but my trading did not prove profitable.”
As for New-Year’s-day, it came and departed without any special
demonstrations: the _son-of-a-gun_ was enjoyed by all parties; many
of the ice-bound hearts were warmed by memories of home; and Greely
and Lockwood had a long talk about the condition of affairs, and the
prospects for the future.
The business of trading among the explorers being discouraged, did
not long continue, but was succeeded by some other importations from
civilization, viz., the taking of property of other people without
leave or license. A report was made to Lieutenant Greely that some
one had taken a quarter of a pound of bacon, left in the stearine by
the cook; also that a barrel of bread had been broken open and two
pounds taken away. This proved that the bears and the foxes were not
the only thieves to be found in the Arctic regions. The man
suspected of the deed was closely watched and had a narrow escape
from being properly punished.
On the 10th of January, the case of poor Corporal Ellison was again
brought up for discussion and prompt action. It had been hoped that
his frosted feet would be restored to their normal condition, but
this was not to be, for they were both amputated by Nature, and two
of his fingers besides. Strange to say, this was accomplished
without his being aware of what was taking place, so little vitality
remained in these parts. When we recall the sufferings of this man,
in connection with his surroundings and his distance from the
comforts of home, we must conclude that the stories of fiction can
not eclipse the wonders of actual life and experience. What a
combination there of cold and hunger, bodily pain and mental
anguish, darkness and perpetual storms!
As we pass over the daily records made by Lockwood in his journal at
this particular time, we find food and the dangers of starvation to
be the absorbing themes. It seems strange that, in a land of ice and
snow, there should have been any apprehensions about a sufficient
supply of drinking-water; but this was the case, and the fact came
home to the exiles when they found that their supply of tea had to
be reduced to half a cup per man. Good water was not only scarce,
but could not be obtained from the neighboring lake, their sole
dependence, without great toil in chopping away the ice. They had
the ice, of course, but there was not sufficient fuel to reduce it
to a liquid.
As they could keep warm only by remaining in their sleeping-bags,
the manner of visiting each other was simply to exchange
sleeping-bags; and thus, when Lockwood wanted to have a talk with
Greely, one of the companions of the latter would exchange bags with
the visitor.
On the 18th of January, another cloud was thrown upon the party by
the death of Cross. He died of a kind of heart-disease, induced, it
was supposed, by intemperance in drinking. For several hours before
his death he uttered low moans which seemed a kind of echo from the
grinding of the far-off ice-fields. His remains were enveloped in
coffee-sacks and an American flag, and deposited in a stony grave
near the neighboring lake, the only funeral remarks having been made
by Lieutenant Lockwood.
On the 21st, Lockwood had a talk with Greely about his own health;
said he was very weak, and had been so for two weeks, but had not
mentioned it for fear of depressing the men; he could not account
for it, and concluded by saying that if he should not be well or
better when the time came to make the contemplated passage of the
straits, he desired to be left behind with his share of the rations,
and then be sent for from Littleton Island. To this Greely replied
that he would never harbor such an idea for a single moment; that he
would never abandon a living soul.
On the 2d of February, Rice and Jans started to test the passage of
the straits, hoping to reach Littleton Island, where they expected
to find some provisions or a relief-ship. But, alas! they were
stopped by open water, and not successful, though they traveled
about fifty miles up and down the floes, and were absent four days.
Owing to the bad weather, they did not even get a glimpse of the
coast of Greenland. All were greatly disappointed, and some felt
that death from starvation was staring them in the face; and yet
they found some relief in the increased light preceding the
reappearance of the sun. Lockwood, who now became despondent and
apathetic, endeavored to peer into the future, and wondered whether
his bones were really to be left in the Arctic regions. He mourned
over the fact that he had not been as good a son and as kind a
brother as he might have been, and hoped that the dear ones at home
would remember him as he wished to be, and not as he had been. As to
the end, he hoped it would come soon, whatever it might be; and he
declared himself possessed by a feeling of indifference to hunger,
cold, and gloom, “all of them enemies of existence.” After mourning
over the approaching fate of Ellison, he recorded these touching
words: “How often I think of the dear ones at home, the Sunday
evening reunions, and all the bright and happy pictures that present
themselves! My dear, good old father! may he look with charity on my
many short-comings! My dear mother and sisters and Harry,
brothers-in-law, and nieces! I trust that they are well and happy,
and, if I do not pull through this, will learn to look on my memory
kindly!” An allusion that he now made to his companions in suffering
was to this effect: “The party presents a bold front, and is not
wanting in spirit. If our fate is the worst, I do not think we shall
disgrace the name of Americans and of soldiers.” The attempt of Rice
to cross the straits to Littleton Island was heroic in the extreme,
and his pluck was further exemplified by a proposition that he
submitted to Greely to make a second effort to cross the straits,
and that, too, unattended by any companion; but the idea was not
sanctioned.
On the 22d of February, strange to say, a raven made its appearance
in the vicinity of the Arctic camp, but was not killed, although it
might have been enjoyed at the forthcoming dinner. It must have been
a great relief to some of the party that it disappeared without
uttering its dreadful cry, “_Nevermore!_” as translated by the poet,
Poe.
On the 27th, not knowing what might happen to him, Lockwood wrote
the following in his journal: “The chronometer in my pocket is the
one used on the trip to 83° 24´ and on all my trips in this region.
My intention is to buy it, but, in case I do not get back, I would
have it purchased and kept in the family.”
When the sun first made its appearance above the horizon, as it
carried his mind away to his far-distant home, he gave expression to
this emotion: “O God! how many years of my life would I give to be
there!”
Every day, observations were made from neighboring elevations to
ascertain the condition of the straits separating them from the
Greenland coast which was distinctly visible in clear weather,
hoping without hope to see it frozen over from shore to shore; but
the lateness of the season precluded all reasonable expectation of
such a result, and the daily reports of open water were depressing
in the extreme. On the 13th of March, the announcement was made that
the supplies of coffee, chocolate, and canned vegetables were all
exhausted, and that henceforth they would have to depend almost
entirely on pemmican, bacon, bread, and tea, all of which, though
given in one-third rations only, would not last for more than a
month, thus leaving them without supplies to cross the straits in
the event of a satisfactory freeze. In view of all these
circumstances, it is impossible to imagine how they could quietly
continue their preparations for a journey to the supposed goal at
Littleton Island. Surely the hope which inspired the sufferers was
eternal and supreme in its strength and pathos. “The straits,” said
Lockwood, “are open, and I see no prospect of their freezing so that
we can get across. Of course, I hope to the contrary; for this means
death, if we can find no game here.” On a subsequent day he writes
as follows: “We look to the end with equanimity, and the spirits of
the party, in spite of the prospect of a miserable death, are
certainly wonderful. I am glad as each day comes to an end. It
brings us nearer the end of this life, whatever that end is to be.”
On the 23d of March, the last of the regular fuel was exhausted, and
the food was so nearly gone that the men actually began to collect
their seal-skin clothing and foot-gear for any emergency that might
happen. Game was not only scarce, but the men were getting almost
too weak to endure a hunt. To avoid long tramps, which were sure to
be unsuccessful, they turned their attention to shrimp-fishing, but,
as one man could only get three pounds in one day, the prospect in
this direction was not hopeful.
During the month of March and the early part of April, there was
nothing done by the able-bodied members of the party but to try to
secure some game, the only incidents occurring to interrupt the
monotony being the deaths of the Esquimaux Frederick Christiansen,
and Sergeant Lynn. The former had been complaining for a week or
more, but nobody thought him in danger, and he died unexpectedly.
Lockwood’s tribute to him was to this effect: “He was a good man,
and I felt a great affection for him. He constantly worked hard in
my service, and never spared himself on our sledge-trips. His death
makes me feel very sorrowful.” He was buried by the side of Cross,
near the lake. The death of Lynn was also unexpected. He fully
appreciated his condition, and gave some directions regarding his
last wishes. He was much liked, and highly spoken of by all. After
the burial service had been read at the house by Lieutenant Greely,
his remains were also placed by the lake-side with those of Cross
and the Esquimaux.
The drama was about to close, the curtain already falling upon the
band of heroes:
“And their hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums were beating
Funeral marches to the grave.”
The phantom of Starvation, which had long been following them over
the ice and snow, and dallying with their hopes and fears as they
lay in their comfortless camps, had now become a terrible reality,
determined to assert all his powers. Three of his victims were
already under the snow, and were soon followed by several others,
including the one who had directed them in many of their duties and
befriended them in trouble, and whose honored name, attached to a
noted island and a famed headland in the Arctic world, will be
forever remembered with pride and affection by his countrymen.
The concluding paragraph in Lieutenant Lockwood’s journal was
written on the 7th of April, 1884, and alludes to the sickness and
death of his two comrades. In the last allusion that he makes to
himself, he speaks of his excessive weakness, and of the fact that
he could not rise from his sleeping-bag without great difficulty.
His death occurred two days afterward.
Having been permitted to examine an elaborate and interesting
journal kept by Sergeant Brainard, a few notices relating to the
closing days and the death of Lieutenant Lockwood are reproduced, as
follows:
_January 12, 1884._—Lieutenant Lockwood is very weak. He has been
saving the greater portion of his bread and meat for several days,
and talks to himself about food. He frequently looks intently at the
lamp, and requests that it be kept burning all night.
_January 20th._—Lieutenant Lockwood is growing weaker and weaker. He
said to me a few days ago, “Brainard, I have lost my grip,” meaning
that he had lost his last hope of life.
_January 24th._—Lieutenant Lockwood seems to be in better spirits
to-day.
_January 28th._—The doctor said to-day that if Lieutenant Lockwood
did not brace up, he would never recover.
_January 30th._—Lieutenant Lockwood is growing steadily weaker, and
talks but seldom now. I wish he would try to be more cheerful.
_February 15th._—Lieutenant Lockwood is better, but does not improve
so rapidly as I would wish.
_April 4th._—The rations of Lieutenant Lockwood and Linn have been
increased to one fourth of a dovekie each per day.
_April 5th._—I am afraid that Lieutenant Lockwood and Linn will soon
follow the faithful Esquimaux, who has just died. They can not, or
they will not, eat shrimps any more. Although they are both given an
extra allowance of dovekie, it is not sufficient to restore them.
_April 7th._—Lieutenant Lockwood and Jewell will soon follow Linn.
They are very weak and failing rapidly.
_April 8th_.—Lieutenant Lockwood fell in a faint in the alley-way,
and much difficulty was experienced in resuscitating him.
_April 9th._—Lieutenant Lockwood became unconscious at an early hour
this morning, and at 4.20 P. M. he breathed his last. His end was
painless and without a struggle. This will be a sad and unexpected
blow to his family, who evidently idolized him. To me it is also a
sorrowful event. He had been my companion during long and eventful
excursions, and my feelings toward him were akin to those of a
brother. Biederbick, who was with him at the last moment, and I
straightened his limbs and prepared his remains for burial. It is
the saddest duty I have ever been called on to perform, and I hope I
may never experience the like again. A few days prior to his death
he had spoken of writing to his family, but, owing to weakness, had
deferred the matter until too late.
_April 10th._—The last sad rites were performed over the remains of
our late comrade, and he was interred with the others on Cemetery
Ridge, Lieutenant Greely reading the Episcopal service.
To the above may be added the following remark made by Brainard in
regard to his friend Lockwood: “The lieutenant was buried in an
officer’s blouse. It affected me deeply to pass his grave, as I
thought of the leader of our little party which had carried the
Stars and Stripes beyond the English Jack; but this feeling soon
wore away, and, as I had so many other horrible things to occupy my
mind, I became somewhat indifferent.”
But wholly indifferent he could not be, even when he saw two men in
one sleeping-bag, one of them a corpse, and the other too weak to
assist in pulling the body out for burial.
Another and most touching reference made by Brainard to the
burial-place of his friend Lockwood occurs in his journal under date
of May 31, 1884, and is as follows: “In my daily journeys across
Cemetery Ridge, it was but natural at first that my reflections
should be sad and gloomy. Here lie my departed comrades, and to
their left is the vacant space where, in a few days, my own remains
will be deposited if sufficient strength remain to those who may
survive me. The brass buttons on Lieutenant Lockwood’s blouse, worn
bright by the flying gravel, protruded through the scanty covering
of earth which our depleted strength barely enabled us to place over
him. At first these dazzling buttons would awaken thoughts of those
bright days spent at Fort Conger, of the half-forgotten scene of his
death, and of the universal sorrow that was felt at his departure.
But later my own wretched circumstances served to counteract these
feelings, and I would pass and repass this place without emotion,
and almost with indifference.”
The supply of food had been almost entirely exhausted during the
first few days of April, and it was impossible to obtain any game or
rations from distant caches. An effort made by Rice to secure
certain provisions that had been abandoned on a former expedition in
order to save the life of Ellison when frozen, resulted in his own
death, breathing his last in the arms of Fredericks, his only
companion, who buried him in a lonely, ice-made grave. Nor were the
horrors of the situation lessened by the discovery that the man
Henry had been guilty of stealing their food, for which, after ample
warning, under orders from Lieutenant Greely, he was summarily shot,
according to the law of self-preservation. His remains were not
deposited in the cemetery, but by themselves in a place near by.
The total number of deaths out of the twenty-five composing the
complete party of explorers was nineteen, and, while twelve of them
were buried at Camp Clay, the remainder, like the lamented Rice,
were buried elsewhere or where they died. Jans was lost in his
kyack. During a discussion that occurred, about the final
disposition of the dead, Lieutenant Greely expressed the wish that
the remains of his men might be left undisturbed. They had died, he
said, beneath Arctic skies. Arctic desolation witnessed their
sufferings, heard their cries of anguish. They are buried in Arctic
soil. Let them lie where they fell. Lockwood told me that he wanted
to rest forever on the field of his work. Why disturb them? Why not
respect their wishes?
Before closing this chapter it seems proper that an allusion should
be made to alleged cannibalism at Camp Clay. The writer of this was
informed by Sergeant Brainard that such might have been the case,
but that not a single one of the survivors had ever known or
witnessed anything of the kind. So far as Lieutenant Lockwood was
concerned, it was positively established, by unimpeachable
testimony, that his remains were not mutilated in the least degree.
When carefully carried, with all the others, on board the ship that
was to bring them to the United States, his remains were perfect in
every respect, and of this his father has the assurance of those who
saw them.
In view of the fact that Sergeant David L. Brainard accompanied
Lieutenant Lockwood in all his explorations, it seems only proper
that a notice of his life should appear in this volume. He was born
in Norway, Herkimer County, New York, December 21, 1856, his parents
having come from Massachusetts. His father was of French extraction
and his mother of English stock. He attended a district school until
his eleventh year, when he removed with his family to Freetown,
Cortland County, New York, where he attended the State Normal
School. On the 18th of September, 1876, he enlisted at New York city
in the regular army, being assigned to Company L, Second Cavalry,
then stationed at Fort Ellis, in Montana Territory. He joined his
troops late that year after an arduous journey of five hundred miles
on horseback from Corinne, Utah. In the following spring he
participated in the Indian campaigns under General Miles, along the
Yellowstone River and its tributaries, and was wounded in the face
while in action with the Sioux, at Muddy Creek, Montana, May 7,
1877. In August of the same year, he was selected as one of four men
to act as escort to General Sherman and party in their tour through
the National Park. In October following, he was made a corporal, and
in July, 1879, was promoted to be a sergeant. He was frequently in
charge of parties in the field on detached service, and was
intrusted with important missions by his commanding officers.
Lieutenant Doane, Second Cavalry, recommended him for detail on the
Howgate Polar Expedition in May, 1880, Brainard visiting Washington
for that purpose. The enterprise having been abandoned, he was
ordered back to his regiment at Fort Assiniboin, on Milk River.
Early in the spring of 1881, Lieutenant Greely requested his detail
on the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, and, on his arrival in
Washington, appointed him first sergeant of the expedition, which
position he held during the three years of Arctic service. On the
1st of August, 1884, he was transferred, with the rank of sergeant,
to the United States Signal Corps, having always acquitted himself
with ability and honor as a man, a soldier, and an explorer.
XIX.
THE WOEFUL RETURN.
Without stopping to discuss the action of Congress or the Government
officials in regard to sending relief to the Greely Expedition, the
writer desires to mention that the names of Senator Joseph R. Hawley
and Representative E. John Ellis, because of their manly action in
Congress in behalf of the suffering explorers, are far more
deserving of places on the charts of the North than those of many
others which have thus been honored. In 1882 a vessel called the
Neptune, Captain William Sopp, was chartered at St. John’s,
Newfoundland, and with a full supply of provisions was dispatched
for Lady Franklin Bay, but failing in her mission returned to
Newfoundland _without leaving_ any of her supplies in the North, but
bringing them all back to St. John’s! In 1883 the steamer Proteus,
Captain Richard Pike, was rechartered at St. John’s, and with a full
supply of provisions sailed for Discovery Harbor, but was crushed in
the ice near Cape Sabine, her crew succeeding in landing in a safe
place a small part of her cargo, some of which was subsequently
utilized by the Greely party.
In 1884 a third rescuing expedition was organized and dispatched for
the relief of the Greely exploring party. That expedition was
composed of a squadron of three ships, the Thetis, the Bear, and the
Alert, under the command of Commander Winfield S. Schley, of the
United States Navy. They left St. John’s on the 12th of May, and,
after the usual tribulations along the western coast of Greenland,
reached the vicinity of Cape Sabine, and discovered the Greely party
at Camp Clay, on Sunday, the 22d of June, seventy-three days after
the death of Lieutenant Lockwood. The discovery was then made that,
out of the twenty-five men connected with the Greely Expedition only
seven were alive, viz., Lieutenant Greely, Brainard, Biederbick,
Fredericks, Long, Connell, and Ellison. As soon as the survivors
could be relieved and transferred to the ships, the remains of the
dead were exhumed with care and taken to the ships for
transportation to the United States, excepting the remains of
Esquimaux Frederick, which were left at Disco.
As the pictures presented by the survivors lying in their camp,
dazed with suffering and surprise and a joy they could not manifest,
and the incidents they subsequently narrated of intense suffering,
can only prove heart-rending to the reader, they will not now be
dwelt upon. The departure of the ships, with their strange list of
dead and living passengers, seemed to enhance the gloom which filled
the sky and rested upon the sea. Their condition was so deplorable,
that a delay of a very few days would have left none to tell the
tale of woe and suffering. At least two could not have lived
twenty-four hours. That this time was gained, under the stimulus of
the twenty-five thousand dollars reward, appears from an article
written by an officer of the Relief Expedition and published in the
“Century” of May, 1885, as follows:
“The reward of twenty-five thousand dollars that Congress had
offered for the first information of Greely had incited the whalers
to take risks that they otherwise would have shunned. They had
expressed a determination to strive for it, and were ever on the
alert for a chance to creep northward. The Relief Squadron was
determined, on its part, that the whalers should not secure the
first information, and were equally zealous in pushing northward. It
was this rivalry (a friendly one, for our relations with the
whaling-captains were of the pleasantest nature) that hurried us
across Melville Bay and brought us together within sight of Cape
York. It had been thought possible that Greely or an advance party
might be there.”
Mr. Ellis proposed in the last session of Congress that, as the
reward had not been spent, yet had contributed to the rescue, it
should be appropriated to building, at Washington, a monument to the
dead.
The temporary halt at Disco Harbor was saddened by the death of
Ellison, after prolonged sufferings, as if his noble spirit was
determined to join its departed comrades in their passage to the
skies from that Northern Land of Desolation.
In the official record of the Relief Expedition, Commander Schley
makes an allusion to the important part taken by Lieutenant Lockwood
in the Greely Expedition which should be repeated in this place.
After submitting certain papers which had been found in a cairn at
Breevort Island, he says: “It was a wonderful story. It told how the
expedition, during its two years at Lady Franklin Bay, had marked
out the interior of Grinnell Land, and how Lockwood had followed the
northern shore of Greenland, and had reclaimed for America the honor
of ‘the farthest north.’”
On Thursday, the 17th of July, the Relief Expedition arrived at St.
John’s, Newfoundland, where they were kindly welcomed, and the
tidings of their arrival promptly telegraphed to the anxious
multitudes in the United States. Complete arrangements were made for
the continuous voyage of the living and the dead to their several
homes.
In a dispatch which the Secretary of the Navy sent to Commander
Schley, on the day of his return, he said, “Preserve tenderly the
remains of the heroic dead,” and that order was duly obeyed. They
were placed in metallic caskets, and the squadron sailed from St.
John’s on the 26th of July, arriving at Portsmouth, New Hampshire,
on the 2d of August. As the first duty after a battle is to bury the
dead, it is to be regretted that this was not done before the
display was made at Portsmouth. It was not thus that England
received her victorious fleet from Trafalgar, bearing home the
remains of the dead hero Nelson. The mutilated remains of the dead
should first have been delivered over to the bleeding hearts that
awaited them. While so many unurned corpses remained in the ships,
the celebration was but a ghastly jubilee. Requiems should have been
chanted before pæans were sung. The only casket removed from the
ships at Portsmouth was that containing the remains of Sergeant
Jewell, who was a native of New Hampshire. The squadron now sailed
for New York, and on its arrival, the 8th of August, was received
with great enthusiasm. Here the remains of the dead were delivered
to the custody of the army commander at Governor’s Island, by whom
the final dispositions were made. The remains of Lieutenant Lockwood
were forwarded to Annapolis and placed under a military guard, in
the church of St. Anne, where the young hero had been baptized,
confirmed, and received his first communion. The funeral was of a
military character, and the attendance was very large, comprehending
all the naval, military, and civil organizations of the city.
Recalling the words of the poet Whittier, many of the mourners
present must have felt their special force, when he says:
“I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
_His_ mercy underlies.”
The remains of the hero lie in the beautiful cemetery of the Naval
Academy, overlooking the place of his birth and the scenes of his
childhood. An appropriate tomb was erected over them, bearing this
inscription:
JAMES BOOTH LOCKWOOD,
LIEUTENANT UNITED STATES ARMY,
Born at Annapolis, Maryland,
October 9, 1852,
Died at Cape Sabine,
April 9, 1884.
“The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared
with the glory that shall be revealed in us.”
On the day that the rector of St. Anne’s church, Rev. William S.
Southgate, gave notice of the time of the burial, he made the
following remarks:
“One of the truths of the Bible, taught us by the Church, the most
difficult to receive and to hold practically, is that expressed in
the words of the Collect for the last week: ‘O God, whose
never-failing providence ordereth all things both in heaven and on
earth.’
“The difficulty arises from the fact that in so many cases we can
not discover either the justice or the mercy or even the expediency
of that ordering.
“And yet at times we get a glimpse of light that reveals much of the
fitness and beauty of this divine ordering of events. Here is an
example before us. There is a peculiar appropriateness in the
ordering of events that brings James Booth Lockwood here to be
buried. Born in this parish, baptized here, confirmed in St. Anne by
Bishop Whittingham, April 19, 1868, he received his first communion
at this altar on Christmas-day of the same year. The rector of the
parish, who presented him for confirmation and administered to him
the holy communion, has just been called suddenly to his rest. In
the midst of untiring labors the call found them both at the post of
duty, and both were taken away while in the performance of that
duty. But there was something peculiarly sad in the circumstances
and mode of young Lockwood’s death—circumstances due partly to the
nature of the work in which he was engaged, partly to the fault of
others. But what matters it how or when he died, if found at Death’s
call doing the duty assigned to him?
“One of the earliest of the adventurers along this coast, then as
little known to the world as the Arctic regions are now to us, when
his little ship was overwhelmed by the stormy sea, comforted the
frightened and trembling helmsman with the assuring words, ‘My
child, heaven is as near to us by sea as by land.’ And so what
matters it where we die and how we die, so long as we are reconciled
to God, and are faithfully fulfilling our calling? May God give us
grace so to live that we may never be afraid to die in any place or
in any manner!”
That the story and the fate of James B. Lockwood excited a profound
sentiment of sorrow and admiration throughout the entire country was
manifested in many ways, and a notice of some of them will form an
appropriate conclusion to this _in-memoriam_ volume. Among the first
tributes of honor and affection was the following official order
published by the colonel of his regiment, announcing his death to
the military associates of the young soldier:
[Order, No. 46.]
Headquarters Twenty-third Infantry,
Fort Wayne, Mich., _July 25, 1884_.
Another name is added to the list of our honored dead. The
official announcement is received from the War Department of the
death of First-Lieutenant James B. Lockwood, at Camp Clay, near
Cape Sabine, Smith’s Sound, Arctic regions, April 9, 1884. He was
assigned to this regiment as second lieutenant, October 1, 1873,
and promoted first lieutenant March 15, 1883. He served with
distinction throughout Arizona, Nebraska, Kansas, the Indian
Territory, and Colorado, always performing with zeal and
thoroughness the various and complex duties that usually fall to
the lot of the young officer. In 1881 he turned from the arduous
duties and savage warfare of frontier life to face still greater
hardship and danger, and finally to lay down his life in those
frozen and inhospitable regions which have proved the sepulchre of
so many heroes before him.
Lieutenant Lockwood was a young officer of great promise in his
profession; of a noble and exalted character, his fine mind tended
constantly to the investigation of scientific truths. When the
privations, the suffering, and the achievements of the “Lady
Franklin Bay Expedition” are fully related, higher authority will
doubtless pay a more fitting tribute to the worth, the fortitude,
and the matchless courage of an officer who, in Arctic
exploration, has carried the American flag to a point in advance
of that of any other nation.
His reward is an imperishable fame, which he sought with even
greater resolution than leads the soldier to the cannon’s mouth.
The pleasant smile and manly form of our comrade are lost to us
forever, but his name and memory will be always green in our
hearts.
Officers of the regiment will wear the usual badge of mourning for
thirty days.
By order of Colonel Black:
T. G. M. Smith,
_First Lieutenant and Adjutant Twenty-third Infantry._
When the news of Lockwood’s fate was known at Fort Leavenworth,
Kansas, arrangements were at once made, by those who had known and
loved him there, to erect a tablet to his memory in the handsome
post chapel at that place. When completed it was placed in a
conspicuous position, and bore the following inscription:
In Memoriam
JAMES B. LOCKWOOD,
FIRST LIEUTENANT TWENTY-THIRD INFANTRY,
A MEMBER OF THE
Greely Polar Expedition,
Died at Cape Sabine, Grinnell Land,
April 9, 1884.
This tablet was erected chiefly at the expense of Lockwood’s old
regiment. To one of the officers General Lockwood presented a sword
that had belonged to his son, and, in his acknowledgment, that
officer made this remark: “As a friend of your son, I shall take
pride and comfort from having in my possession the sword of a
friend, who lived so nobly and died so honorably. Should you desire
it to come back to your family when I have joined your son, I hope
you will tell me so, and I will provide accordingly.” Among those
who earnestly co-operated with this gentleman in erecting the tablet
was one who wrote to his fellow-officer as follows: “No two people,
outside of Lockwood’s own blood relations, loved him more than you
and I. And yet I do not know that I am right in calling his end
untimely. He died, as he had ever lived, in the discharge of his
duty, and I imagine, when the records of the expedition become more
known, it will be seen that his duty was well done to the end. He
was a man, and has died like one. God grant that when our time comes
it may find us, too, in the discharge of our duty!”
During Lieutenant Greely’s sojourn in Portsmouth, when on his way
home, and while yet too feeble to use the pen, he dictated the
following letter to General Lockwood:
Portsmouth, N. H., _August 9, 1884_.
My dear General Lockwood: Had I not seen Commander Sigsbee, and
given to him such information as he wished, and as I knew would be
most important to you in regard to your son, I should have
attempted an earlier letter to you. I am still unable to write to
you by my own hand. As I told Commander Sigsbee, James died from
water around the heart, induced by insufficient nutrition. His
last days were quiet and painless. He did his whole duty as a
soldier and an officer. His loyalty to truth, fidelity, and zeal
could always be relied upon by me. His unvarying kindness, his
gentleness, his deep interest in and toward the men of the
expedition indicated a nature thoroughly imbued with the essential
and fundamental principles of Christianity, and won for him their
good-will, confidence, and affection. I feel that you and Mrs.
Lockwood may well be proud of such a son. His daily conversation
during the past winter told us how much he loved his parents, and
how deep and close were the bonds of affection which united him to
his sisters and brother. He seemed to feel that he had not done
full justice to the many and great advantages that you had given
him, and hoped to make amends in the future. His innate modesty in
this, as in other matters, I think did scant justice to his true
merits. I write by Mrs. Greely’s hand—she joins me in sympathy and
condolence. I feel that this letter insufficiently informs you
regarding James. From day to day he intended to write you, but
delayed too long. His diary, in short-hand, was kept up, I
believe, to the day preceding his death.
Sincerely yours,
A. W. Greely.
Another letter from Portsmouth, written by Sergeant D. L. Brainard
in answer to some inquiries made by General Lockwood, was as
follows:
Portsmouth, N. H., _September 4, 1884_.
_General_ H. H. Lockwood.
Dear Sir: Your letter of the 22d ult., requesting information of
the missing effects of your dear son, which had been committed to
my care, is just received. . . . The effects in question,
excepting the ring and coins, I turned over to Major Greely before
leaving this city in August. The two latter articles I afterward
found and gave to Mrs. Peck, who, with her husband, called on me
at the Parker House, in Boston. The setting of the ring, I am
sorry to say, was not found after his death, although diligent
search was made. He had spoken of it but a few days before his
death, and expressed great concern for its safety. It was supposed
to be suspended from his neck in a small parcel, but search
revealed nothing. The compass was among the effects I transferred
to Lieutenant Greely, as were also two pencils, his pipe, spoon,
knife, etc. With reference to the inner life of your son, do not
feel any concern. Although not an open professor of any particular
creed, he followed closely the golden rule during my acquaintance
with him. When I reach Washington I shall be glad to call on you.
In the mean time I shall willingly answer any question with regard
to his life in the frigid zone that you may desire to ask. Place
no reliance on any of the adverse newspaper reports that are
occasionally seen reflecting on his conduct; they are not worthy
of a moment’s thought. Hoping that the articles have reached you
in safety ere this, I am, very sincerely yours,