ANTARCTIC VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY.
Cook’s Discoveries in the Antarctic Ocean.--Bellinghausen.--
Weddell.--Biscoe.--Balleny.--Dumont d’Urville.--Wilkes.--
Sir James Ross crosses the Antarctic Circle on New Year’s Day,
1841.--Discovers Victoria Land.--Dangerous Landing on Franklin
Island.--An Eruption of Mount Erebus.--The Great Ice Barrier.--
Providential Escape.--Dreadful Gale.--Collision.--Hazardous
Passage between two Icebergs.--Termination of the Voyage.
Before Cook, no navigator had left Europe with the clear design of
penetrating into the Antarctic regions. Dirk Gheritz indeed had been
driven by a furious storm far to the south of Cape Horn, and became the
involuntary discoverer of the New Shetland Islands in 1600; but his
voyage was soon forgotten, and in an age when the love of gold or the
desire of conquest were the sole promoters of maritime enterprise, no
mariner felt inclined to follow on his track, and to plunge into a sea
where most probably he would find nothing but ice-fields and icebergs
to reward his efforts. Nearly two centuries later a more scientific age
directed its attention to the unknown regions of the distant south,
and Cook sailed forth to probe the secrets of the Antarctic Seas.
This dangerous task he executed with an intrepidity unparalleled in
the annals of navigation. Beyond 60° of southern latitude, he cruised
over a space of more than 100° of longitude, and on January 30, 1774,
penetrated as far as 71° of southern latitude, where he was stopped by
impenetrable masses of ice. Such were the difficulties encountered from
dense fogs, snow-storms, intense cold, and every thing that can render
navigation dangerous, that in his opinion the lands situated to the
southward of his discoveries must forever remain unknown.
Again for many a year no one attempted to enter a field where the
most celebrated of modern mariners had found but a few desert islands
(South Georgia, Sandwich’s Land, Southern Thule) until Smith’s casual
rediscovery of New South Shetland in 1819 once more turned the current
of maritime exploration to the Antarctic Seas.
Soon afterwards a Russian expedition under Lazareff and Bellinghausen
discovered (January, 1821), in 69° 3´ S. lat., the islands Paul the
First and Alexander, the most southern lands that had ever been visited
by man.
The year after Captain Weddell, a sealer, penetrated into the icy
ocean as far as 74° 15´ S. lat., 3° nearer to the pole than had been
attained by Cook. The sea lay invitingly open, but as the season was
far advanced, and Weddell apprehended the dangers of the return voyage,
he steered again to the north.
In 1831 Biscoe discovered Enderby Land, and soon afterwards Graham’s
Land, to which the gratitude of geographers has since given the
discoverer’s name. In 1839 Balleny revealed the existence of the group
of islands called after him, and of Sabrina Land (69° S. lat.).
About the same time three considerable expeditions, fitted out by the
governments of France, the United States, and England, made their
appearance in the Antarctic Seas.
Dumont d’Urville discovered Terre Louis Philippe (63° 31´ S. lat.) in
February, 1838, and Terre Adélie (66° 67´ S. lat.) on January 21, 1840.
Almost on the same day, Wilkes, the commander of the United States
Exploring Expedition, reached an ice-bound coast, which he followed for
a length of 1500 miles, and which has been called Wilkes’s Land, to
commemorate the discoverer’s name.
But of all the explorers of the southern frozen ocean, the palm
unquestionably belongs to Sir James Ross who penetrated farther towards
the pole than any other navigator before or after, and made the only
discoveries of extensive land within the area bounded by the Antarctic
Circle.
On New Year’s Day, 1841, the “Erebus,” Captain James Clark Ross, and
the “Terror,” commanded by Francis Crozier, who died with Franklin in
the Arctic Sea, crossed the Antarctic Circle, and after sustaining many
severe shocks in breaking through the pack-ice, emerged on January 9
into a clear sea of great extent; but the fog and snow-showers were
so thick that the navigators could seldom see more than half a mile
before them. On the following day the fog began to disperse, and on
the 11th, Victoria Land, rising in lofty peaks entirely covered with
perennial snow, was seen at a distance of more than one hundred miles.
On steering towards Mount Sabine, the highest mountain of the range,
new chains of hills were seen extending to the right and left. After
sailing for a few days to the south along the ice-bound coast, a gale
forced the ships to stand out to sea; but on the morning of January
15, the weather becoming beautifully clear, allowed a full view of a
magnificent chain of mountains stretching far away to the southward.
Ross was most anxious to find a harbor in which to secure the ships,
but every indentation of the coast was found filled with snow drifted
from the mountains, and forming a mass of ice several hundred feet
thick. It was thus impossible to enter any of the valleys or breaks
in the coast where harbors in other lands usually occur. Yet these
inhospitable shores (72° 73´ S. lat.) are situated but one or two
degrees nearer to the pole than Hammerfest, the seat of an active
commerce on the Norwegian coast.
Favored by northerly winds and an open sea, the ships reached on
January 22 a higher southern latitude (74° 20´ S.) than that which
had been attained by Weddell. Pursuing their way to the southward
along the edge of the pack-ice, which now compelled them to keep at a
considerable distance from the coast, they came on the 27th within two
or three miles of a small island connected by a vast ice-field with
the extreme point of the mainland. Eager to set his foot on the most
southerly soil (76° 8´ S.) he had as yet discovered, Ross left the
“Erebus,” accompanied by several officers, and, followed by Crozier and
a party from the “Terror,” pulled towards the shore. A high southerly
swell broke so heavily against the cliffs and on the only piece of
beach which they could see as they rowed from one end of the island to
the other, as almost to forbid their landing.
By great skill and management Ross succeeded in jumping on to the
rocks. By means of a rope some of the officers landed somewhat more
easily, but not without getting thoroughly wetted, and one of them
nearly lost his life in this difficult affair. The thermometer being
at 22°, every part of the rocks washed by the waves was covered with a
coating of ice, so that in jumping from the boat he slipped from them
into the water between her stern and the almost perpendicular rock on
which his companions had landed. But for the promptitude of the men in
the boat in instantly pulling off, he must have been crushed between it
and the rock. He was taken into the boat without having suffered any
other injury than being benumbed by the cold.
The island, which received the name of Franklin, bore not the smallest
trace of vegetation, not even a lichen or piece of sea-weed growing on
the rocks; but the white petrel and the skua-gull had their nests on
the ledges of the cliffs, and seals were seen sporting in the water.
The following day was memorable for the discovery of the southernmost
known land of the globe, a magnificent mountain chain, to which the
name of Parry was given, in grateful remembrance of the honor which
that illustrious navigator had conferred on Ross, by calling the most
northern land at that time known by his name. It is not often that men
are able to reciprocate such compliments as these! The most conspicuous
object of the chain was Mount Erebus (77° 5´ S.), an active volcano, of
which Ross had the good-fortune to witness a magnificent eruption. The
enormous columns of flame and smoke rising two thousand feet above the
mouth of the crater, which is elevated 12,400 feet above the level of
the sea, combined with the snow-white mountain chain and the deep-blue
ocean to form a magnificent scene. An extinct volcano to the eastward
of Mount Erebus, and a little inferior in height, being by measurement
10,900 feet high, was called “Mount Terror.” A brilliant mantle of snow
swept down the sides of both these giants of the south, and projected a
perpendicular icy cliff several miles into the sea.
Gladly would Ross have penetrated still farther to the south, but
all his efforts were baffled by a vast barrier of ice, forming an
uninterrupted wall, 450 miles in length, and rising in some parts
to a height of 180 feet above the sea-level. While sailing along
this barrier, the ships were frequently obliged by the wind and the
closely-packed ice to keep at a considerable distance; but on February
9, having entered the only indentation which they had perceived
throughout its whole extent, they had an excellent opportunity of
getting quite close to it, though at no little hazard. This bay was
formed by a projecting peninsula of ice, terminated by a cape 170 feet
high; but at the narrow isthmus which connected it with the great
barrier it was not more than fifty feet high, affording Ross the only
opportunity he had of seeing its upper surface from the mast-head. It
appeared to be quite smooth, and conveyed to the mind the idea of an
immense plain of frosted silver. Gigantic icicles depended from every
projecting point of its perpendicular cliffs, proving that it sometimes
thawed, which otherwise could not have been believed; for at a season
of the year equivalent to August in England, the thermometer at noon
did not rise above 14°, and the young ice formed so quickly in the
sheltered bay as to warn them of the necessity of a speedy retreat.
Favored by the breeze, and by dint of great exertion, they ultimately
emerged from their dangerous position, but scarcely had they escaped
when the wind came directly against them, so that had they lingered but
half an hour longer near the barrier they would certainly have been
frozen up.
On February 13 the approach of winter convinced Ross that it was high
time to relinquish the further examination of the barrier to the
eastward; and as no place of security where it was possible to winter
could be found upon any part of the land hitherto discovered, he
reluctantly resolved to recross the Antarctic Circle, and postpone all
attempts to reach the pole to the next season. The return voyage was
difficult and dangerous. On March 7, the ships, while endeavoring to
find a way through the pack-ice in lat. 65°, had a narrow escape from
imminent destruction. The wind having ceased, they found themselves at
the mercy of a heavy easterly swell, which was driving them down upon
the pack, in which were counted from the mast-head eighty-four large
bergs, and some hundreds of smaller size. As they rapidly approached
this formidable chain, no opening could be discovered through which the
ships could pass; the waves were beating violently against the bergs,
and dashing huge masses of pack-ice against their precipitous faces,
now lifting them nearly to their summit, then forcing them again far
beneath their water-line, and sometimes rending them in a multitude
of brilliant fragments against their projecting points. “Sublime and
magnificent,” says Ross, “as such a scene must have appeared under
different circumstances, to us it was awful, if not appalling. For
eight hours we had been gradually drifting towards what to human eyes
appeared inevitable destruction; the high waves and deep rolling of
our ships rendered towing with the boats impossible, and our situation
the more painful and embarrassing from our inability to make any
effort to avoid the dreadful calamity that seemed to await us.... We
were now within half a mile of the range of bergs. The roar of the
surf, which extended each way as far as we could see, and the crashing
of the ice, fell upon the ear with fearful distinctness, whilst the
frequently averted eye as immediately returned to contemplate the awful
destruction that threatened in one short hour to close the world, and
all its hopes, and joys, and sorrows upon us forever. In this our deep
distress ‘we called upon the Lord, and He heard our voices out of His
temple, and our cry came before Him.’ A gentle air of wind filled our
sails; hope again revived, and the greatest activity prevailed to make
the best use of the feeble breeze; as it gradually freshened, our heavy
ships began to feel its influence, slowly at first, but more rapidly
afterwards, and before dark we found ourselves far removed from every
danger.”
After passing the winter at Hobarton, the capital of Tasmania, Sir
James Ross, in the following year, once more crossed the Antarctic
Circle to examine the icy barrier which in his previous voyage had
blocked his progress to the south, and to renew his attempts to pass
round or through it. But there were new dangers to be encountered. On
January 17, 1842, a fearful storm came on as the “Erebus” and “Terror”
were making their way through the pack-ice, which was this time met
with in a more northern latitude than the year before. The sea broke
all the hawsers which held them to a large piece of floe, and drove
them helplessly along into the heavy pack. They were now involved in an
ocean of rolling fragments of ice, which were dashed against them by
the waves with so much violence that their masts quivered as if they
would fall at every successive blow. The loud crashing noise of the
straining and working of the timbers and decks, as they were driven
against some of the heavier pieces, might well appall the stoutest
heart, and thus hour passed away after hour. During this terrible scene
the ships were at one time so close together that when the “Terror”
rose to the top of one wave, the “Erebus” was on the top of the wave
next to leeward of her, the deep chasm between them being filled with
heavy rolling masses; and as the ships descended into the hollow
between the waves, the maintopsail-yard of each could be seen, just
level with the crest of the intervening wave, from the deck of the
other. The night, which now began to draw in, rendered their condition,
if possible, more hopeless and helpless than before; but at midnight
the snow, which had been falling thickly for several hours, cleared
away, as the wind suddenly shifted to the westward; the swell began
to subside, and the shocks which the ships still sustained, though
strong enough to shatter any vessel less strongly ribbed, were feeble
compared with those to which they had been exposed. On the following
day, the wind having moderated to a fresh breeze, the crippled ships,
whose rudders had been sorely shattered, were securely moored to a
large floe-piece in the now almost motionless pack, where, by dint of
unceasing labor, the damages were repaired in the course of a week, and
the vessels once more fitted to fight their way to the south.
On February 22 the great barrier was seen from the mast-head, just
before midnight, and the following day, the wind blowing directly on
to its cliffs, they approached it within a mile and a half, in lat.
78° 11´, the highest ever attained in the southern hemisphere. From
this point, situated about 5° of longitude farther to the east than
the indentation where the ships had so narrowly escaped being frozen
fast in the preceding year, the barrier trended considerably to the
northward of east, so that Ross was obliged to give up all hope of
rounding it, and extending his explorations towards the pole, as the
season was already considerably advanced. On his return voyage to the
Falklands, where he intended to pass the winter, he had already reached
the latitude of 60°, and thought himself out of danger of meeting
with bergs, when, in the afternoon of March 12, the southerly wind
changed to a strong north-westerly breeze. In the evening the wind
increased so much, and the snow-showers became so incessant, that he
was obliged to proceed under more moderate sail. Small pieces of ice
were also met with, warning him of the presence of bergs, concealed
by the thickly-falling snow, so that before midnight he directed the
topsails of the “Erebus” to be close-reefed, and every arrangement made
for rounding to until daylight, deeming it too hazardous to run any
longer. “Our people,” says the gallant explorer, “had hardly completed
these operations, when a large berg was seen ahead and quite close;
the ship was immediately hauled to the wind on the port tack, with the
expectation of being able to weather it; but just at this moment the
‘Terror’ was observed running down upon us, under her topsail and
foresail; and as it was impossible for her to clear both the berg and
the ‘Erebus,’ collision was inevitable. We instantly hove all aback to
diminish the violence of the shock; but the concussion when she struck
us was such as to throw almost every one off his feet; our bowsprit,
foretopmast, and other smaller spars, were carried away, and the ships
hanging together entangled by their rigging, and dashing against
each other with fearful violence, were falling down upon the weather
face of the lofty berg under our lee, against which the waves were
breaking and foaming to near the summit of its perpendicular cliffs.
Sometimes the ‘Terror’ rose high above us, almost exposing her keel
to view, and again descended, as we in our turn rose to the top of
the wave, threatening to bury her beneath us, whilst the crashing of
the breaking upper-works and boats increased the horror of the scene.
Providentially the ships gradually separated before we drifted down
amongst the foaming breakers, and we had the gratification of seeing
the ‘Terror’ clear the end of the berg, and of feeling that she was
safe. But she left us completely disabled; the wreck of the spars so
encumbered the lower yard that we were unable to make sail so as to
get headway on the ship; nor had we room to wear round, being by this
time so close to the berg that the waves, when they struck against
it, threw back their spray into the ship. The only way left to us to
extricate ourselves from this awful and appalling situation was by
resorting to the hazardous expedient of a stern board, which nothing
could justify during such a gale but to avert the danger which every
moment threatened us of being dashed to pieces. The heavy rolling of
the vessel, and the probability of the masts giving away each time the
lower yard-arms struck against the cliffs, which were towering high
above our mast-heads, rendered it a service of extreme danger to loose
the mainsail; but no sooner was the order given, than the daring spirit
of the British seaman manifested itself--the men ran up the rigging
with as much alacrity as on any ordinary occasion; and, although more
than once driven off the yard, they after a short time succeeded in
loosing the sail. Amidst the roar of the wind and sea, it was difficult
both to hear and to execute the orders that were given, so that it was
three-quarters of an hour before we could get the yards braced by; and
the main tack hauled on board sharp aback--an expedient that perhaps
had never before been resorted to by seamen in such weather; but it
had the desired effect; the ship gathered sternway, plunging her stern
into the sea, and with her lower yard-arms scraping the rugged face
of the berg, we in a few minutes reached its western termination; the
‘under-tow,’ as it is called, or the reaction of the water from its
vertical cliffs, alone preventing us being driven to atoms against it.
No sooner had we cleared it than another was seen directly astern of
us, against which we were running; and the difficulty now was to get
the ship’s head turned round and pointed fairly through between the
two bergs, the breadth of the intervening space not exceeding three
times her own breadth. This, however, we happily accomplished; and in
a few minutes, after getting before the wind, she dashed through the
narrow channel between two perpendicular walls of ice, and the foaming
breakers which stretched across it, and the next moment we were in
smooth water under its lee. The ‘Terror’s’ light was immediately seen
and answered; she had rounded to, waiting for us..., and, as soon
as day broke, we had the gratification of learning that she had not
suffered any serious damage.”
On December 17 Sir James Ross sailed from the Falkland Islands, with
the intention of following the track of Weddell, as, from the account
of that daring navigator, he had every reason to expect to find a
clear sea, which would enable him considerably to extend the limits
of geographical knowledge towards the pole. He was disappointed, for
though he discovered some new land (63°-64° 30´ S. lat., 55°-57° W.
long.) to the south of D’Urville’s Terre Louis Philippe, yet the
pack-ice so blocked his progress that the farthest point he could
attain was in lat. 71° 30´ S., long. 14° 51´ W. On March 1 he recrossed
the Antarctic Circle, and on the 28th of the same month dropped his
anchors at the Cape. Thus ended this most remarkable voyage, so
honorable to all engaged in it, for, as Sir John Richardson justly
remarks, “the perseverance, daring, and coolness of the commanding
officer, of the other officers, and of the crews of the ‘Erebus’ and
‘Terror,’ was never surpassed, and have been rarely, if ever, equalled
by seamen of any nation.”
Since then the “Pagoda,” which had been sent out by the Admiralty
for the purpose of observing magnetic phenomena in a quarter of the
Antarctic Seas that had not been visited by Sir James Ross, attained
the 73d parallel, but no more recent expedition has been fitted out to
prosecute his discoveries, and no man after him has seen Mount Erebus
vomiting forth its torrents of flame, or traced the stupendous barrier
which stopped his progress to the pole.
[Illustration: 123. STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.]