to the possibility of working those coal fields which extend below
the sea on our east and west coasts, especially in the counties of
Durham, Northumberland, and Cumberland. Mr. Elliot remarks that ‘for
all practical purposes these fields are as entirely within the reach
of the mining engineer as the ordinary workings out of which coal is
hewed.’ It is known that in many districts the coal strata extend ten
or twelve miles beyond the shore; and Mr. Elliot believes that by
sinking ventilating shafts in the German Ocean the coal below may be
safely worked. The idea seems somewhat daring; yet, after the feats
of engineering which have been achieved in our day, there seems no
valid reason for doubting that at least when the pressure of a failing
coal supply begins to be felt, the means will be found for rendering
these immense submarine coal stores available. As to the difficulty
of transport, Mr. Elliot remarks that, according to his estimates,
‘transport would neither be more costly nor more laborious than it has
been in days gone by to convey coal the same distance after it was
brought to the surface inland.’ The enormous importance of the subject
is shown by the fact that ‘out of the minerals obtainable in Durham
alone, one-third,’ Mr. Elliot tells us, ‘may be held to lie under the
sea, and that all coalfields having a similar inclination of strata,
and bordering on the ocean, will be similarly enlarged. This at once
disposes,’ he adds, ‘of some of the fears expressed as to the duration
of our coal supply; and while I am quite aware that these theories may
be challenged, they are not put forward without due deliberation, and I
am content to stake my professional reputation on their practicability.’
With regard to the future of this country, it appears to me that
little anxiety need be entertained. Apart from the considerations I
have urged, which seem to indicate that our consumption cannot long
increase at the same rate as at present, it seems not unreasonable to
anticipate that within the next few decades science will find the means
of economising our coals in more ways than one. It does not indeed
appear likely that any form of fuel will ever take the place of coal;
but a portion of the work now derived from the consumption of coal
may be expected to be derived in future years from some of the other
substances now coming into use. It may be hoped, also, that science may
suggest means for bringing coals to the surface with less waste, and
even at less cost, than at present. And in other ways the process of
exhaustion may be more or less effectively checked.
But while we may thus look somewhat confidently forward, as I judge,
to the future of our country, serious questions are suggested as
to the future of the human race. The period during which a nation
flourishes, long as it seems by comparison with the life of man, yet
sinks into insignificance when compared with the period during which
civilised men will bear sway upon the earth. The thousands of years
during which the coal stores of the earth may be expected to last will
pass away, and then the descendants of those now living on the earth
will have to trust to other force-supplies than those which we are now
using so lavishly. It may seem fanciful to look so far forward, and
yet by comparison with the periods which the astronomer deals with
in considering the future of our earth, thousands of years are as
nothing. As I have said elsewhere, ‘those thousands of years will pass
as surely as the thousands which have already passed, and the wants
entailed by wastefulness in our day will then be felt, and none the
less that for so many years there had been no failure in the supplies
contained within the great subterranean storehouse.’ It behoves us to
consider thoughtfully the wants even of those distant eras. If the
greatest good for the greatest number is to be regarded as the true
rule for the conduct of intelligent beings, then unquestionably mere
distance in point of time should not prevent us from anticipating the
requirements of those remote descendants of ours. We should regard the
consciousness of this duty and its performance as signs by which the
superiority of our own over less civilised times is partly manifested.
As man is in dignity higher than non-intelligent animals, in that he
alone provides of his own forethought for the wants of his children, so
our generation would be raised in dignity above preceding generations
if it took intelligent charge of the wants of its remote descendants.
We ourselves are now employing stores of force laid up for us by the
unconscious processes of Nature in long past ages. As Professor Tyndall
has finely said, we are utilising the Sun of the Carboniferous Epoch.
The light ‘which streamed earthwards from the sun’ was stored up for
us by the unconscious activity of ‘organisms which living took into
them the solar light, and by the consumption of its energy incessantly
generated chemical forces.’ The vegetable world of that old epoch
‘constituted the reservoir in which the fugitive solar rays were fixed,
suitably deposited, and rendered ready for useful application.’ What
the vegetable world did for us unconsciously during the Carboniferous
Epoch, the scientific world of our epoch must do for our remote
descendants. While we are consuming the stores of force laid up in past
ages for our benefit, we must invent the means for obtaining directly
from the solar rays fresh and inexhaustible supplies of motive energy.
(From the _St. Paul’s Magazine_, November 1871.)
_THE SECRET OF THE NORTH POLE._
If an astronomer upon some distant planet has ever thought the tiny
orb we inhabit worthy of telescopic study, there can be little doubt
that the snowy regions which surround the arctic and antarctic poles
must have attracted a large share of his attention. Waxing and waning
with the passing seasons, those two white patches afford significant
information respecting the circumstances of our planet’s constitution.
They mark the direction of the imaginary axial line upon which the
planet rotates; so that we can imagine that an astronomer on Mars or
Venus would judge from their position how it fares with terrestrial
creatures. There may, indeed, be Martial Whewells who laugh to scorn
the notion that a globe so inconveniently circumstanced as ours can
be inhabited, and are ready to show that, if there were living beings
here, they must be quickly destroyed by excessive heat. On the other
hand, there are possibly sceptics on Venus also who smile at the vanity
of those who can conceive a frozen world, such as this our outer
planet, to be inhabited by any sort of living creature. But we doubt
not that the more advanced thinkers both in Mars and Venus are ready
to admit that, though we must necessarily be far inferior beings to
themselves, we yet manage to ‘live and move and have our being’ on this
ill-conditioned globe of ours. And these, observing the earth’s polar
snow-caps, must be led to several important conclusions respecting
physical relations here.
It is, indeed, rather a singular fact to contemplate, that
ex-terrestrial observers, such as these, may know much more than we
ourselves do respecting those mysterious regions which lie close around
the two poles. Their eyes may have rested on spots which, with all
our endeavours, we have hitherto failed to reach. Whether, as some
have thought, the arctic pole is in summer surrounded by a wide and
tide-swayed ocean; whether there lies around the antarctic pole a wide
continent bespread with volcanic mountains larger and more energetic
than the two burning cones which Ross found on the outskirts of this
desolate region; or whether the habitudes prevailing near either
pole are wholly different from those suggested by geographers and
voyagers—such questions as these might possibly, be resolved at once,
could our astronomers take their stand on some neighbouring planet, and
direct the searching power of their telescopes upon this terrestrial
orb. For this is one of those cases referred to by Humboldt, when he
said that there are circumstances under which man is able to learn more
respecting objects millions of miles away from him than respecting the
very globe which he inhabits.
If we take a terrestrial globe, and examine the actual region near
the North Pole which has as yet remained unvisited by man, it will
be found to be far smaller than many imagine. In nearly all maps
the requirements of charting result in a considerable exaggeration
of the polar regions. This is the case in the ordinary ‘maps of the
two hemispheres’ which are to be found in all atlases. And it is, of
course, the case to a much more remarkable extent in what is termed
Mercator’s projection. In a Mercator’s chart we see Greenland, for
example, exaggerated into a continent fully as large as South America,
or to seven or eight times its real dimensions.
There are three principal directions in which explorers have attempted
to approach the North Pole. The first is that by way of the sea which
lies between Greenland and Spitzbergen. I include under this head Sir
Edward Parry’s attempt to reach the pole by crossing the ice-fields
which lie to the north of Spitzbergen. The second is that by way of the
straits which lie to the west of Greenland. The third is that pursued
by Russian explorers who have attempted to cross the frozen seas which
surround the northern shores of Siberia.
In considering the limits of the unknown north-polar regions, we shall
also have to take into account the voyages which have been made around
the northern shores of the American continent in the search for a
‘north-west passage.’ The explorers who set out upon this search found
themselves gradually forced to seek higher and higher latitudes in
order to find a way round the complicated barriers presented by the
ice-bound straits and islands which lie to the north of the American
continent. And it may be noticed in passing, as a remarkable and
unforeseen circumstance, that the farther north the voyagers went the
less severe was the cold they had to encounter. We shall see that this
circumstance has an important bearing on the considerations I shall
presently have to deal with.
One other circumstance respecting the search for the north-west
passage, though not connected very closely with my subject, is so
singular and so little known that I feel tempted to make mention of it
at this point. The notion with which the seekers after a north-west
passage set out was simply this, that the easiest way of reaching
China and the East Indies was to pursue a course resembling as near as
possible that on which Columbus had set out—if only it should appear
that no impassable barriers rendered such a course impracticable. They
quickly found that the American continent presents an unbroken line
of land from high northern latitudes far away towards the antarctic
seas. But it is a circumstance worth noticing, that if the American
continents had no existence, the direct westerly course pursued
by Columbus was not only not the nearest way to the East Indian
Archipelago, but was one of the longest routes which could possibly
have been selected. Surprising as it may seem at first sight, a voyager
from Spain for China and the East Indies ought, if he sought the
absolutely shortest path, to set out on an almost direct northerly
route! He would pass close by Ireland and Iceland, and onwards past the
North Pole into the Pacific. This is what is called the great-circle
route; and if it were only practicable one, would shorten the journey
to China by many hundreds of miles.
Let us return, however, to the consideration of the information which
arctic voyagers have brought us concerning the north-polar regions.
The most laborious researches in arctic seas are those which have
been carried out by the searchers after a north-west passage. I shall
therefore first consider the limits of the unknown region in this
direction. Afterwards we can examine the results of those voyages which
have been undertaken with the express purpose of reaching the North
Pole along the three principal routes already mentioned.
If we examine a map of North America constructed in recent times, we
shall find that between Greenland and Canada an immense extent of
coast-line has been charted. A vast archipelago covers this part of
the northern world. Or, if the strangely-complicated coastlines which
have been laid down really belong to but a small number of islands,
the figures of those must be of the most fantastic kind. Towards the
north-west, however, we find several islands whose outlines have been
entirely ascertained. Thus we have in succession North Devon Island,
Cornwallis Island, Melville Island, and Port Patrick Island, all lying
north of the seventy-fifth parallel of latitude. But we are not to
suppose that these islands limit the extent of our seamen’s researches
in this direction. Far to the northward of Wellington Channel, Captain
de Haven saw, in 1852, the signs of an open sea—in other words, he
saw, beyond the ice-fields, what arctic seamen call a ‘water sky.’ In
1855 Captain Penny sailed upon this open sea; but how far it extends
towards the North Pole has not yet been ascertained.
It must not be forgotten that the north-west passage has been shown
to be a reality, by means of voyages from the Pacific as well as from
the Atlantic. No arctic voyager, however, has yet succeeded in passing
from one ocean to the other. Nor is it likely now that any voyager will
pursue his way along a path so beset by dangers as that which is called
the north-west passage. Long before the problem had been solved, it had
become well known that no profit could be expected to accrue to trade
from the discovery of a passage along the perilous straits and the
ice-encumbered seas which, lie to the north of the American continent.
But Sir Edward Parry having traced out a passage as far as Melville
Island, it seemed to the bold spirit of our arctic explorers that it
might be possible, by sailing through Behring’s Straits, to trace out a
connection between the arctic seas on that side and the regions reached
by Parry. Accordingly, M’Clure, in 1850, sailed in the ‘Investigator,’
and passing eastward, after traversing Behring’s Straits, reached
Baring’s Land, and eventually identified this land as a portion of
Banks’ Land, seen by Parry to the southward of Melville Island.
It will thus be seen that the unexplored parts of the arctic regions
are limited in this direction by sufficiently high latitudes.
Turn we next to the explorations which Russian voyagers have made
to the northward of Siberia. It must be noticed, in the first place,
that the coast of Siberia runs much farther northward than that of
the American continent. So that on this side, independently of sea
explorations, the unknown arctic regions are limited within very high
latitudes. But attempts have been made to push much farther north from
these shores. In every case, however, the voyagers have found that
the ice-fields, over which they hoped to make their way, have become
gradually less and less firm, until at length no doubt could remain
that there lay an open sea beyond them. How far that sea may extend
is a part of the secret of the North Pole; but we may assume that
it is no narrow sea, since otherwise there can be little doubt that
the ice-fields which surround the shores of Northern Siberia would
extend unbroken to the farther shores of what we should thus have to
recognise as a strait. The thinning-off of these ice-fields, observed
by Baron Wrangel and his companions, affords, indeed, most remarkable
and significant testimony respecting the nature of the sea which lies
beyond. This I shall presently have to exhibit more at length; in the
meantime I need only remark that scarcely any doubt can exist that
the sea thus discovered extends northwards to at least the eightieth
parallel of latitude.
We may say, then, that from Wellington Channel, northward of
the American continent, right round towards the west, up to the
neighbourhood of Spitzbergen, very little doubt exists as to the
general characteristics of the arctic regions, save only as respects
those unexplored parts which lie within ten or twelve degrees of
the North Pole. The reader will see presently why I am so careful
to exhibit the limited extent of the unexplored arctic regions in
this direction. The guess we shall form as to the true nature of the
north-polar secret will depend almost entirely on this consideration.
I turn now to those two paths along which arctic exploration, properly
so termed, has been most successfully pursued.
It is chiefly to the expeditions of Drs. Kane and Hayes that we owe the
important knowledge we have respecting the northerly portions of the
straits which lie to the west of Greenland. Each of these explorers
succeeded in reaching the shores of an open sea lying to the north-east
of Kennedy Channel, the extreme northerly limit of those straits.
Hayes, who had accompanied Kane in the voyage of 1854-5, succeeded in
reaching a somewhat higher latitude in sledges drawn by Esquimaux dogs.
But both expeditions agree in showing that the shores of Greenland
trend off suddenly towards the east at a point within some nine degrees
of the North Pole. On the other hand, the prolongation of the opposite
shore of Kennedy Channel was found to extend northwards as far as the
eye could reach. Within the angle thus formed there was an open sea
‘rolling,’ says Captain Maury, ‘with the swell of a boundless ocean.’
But a circumstance was noticed respecting this sea which was very
significant. The tides ebbed and flowed in it. Only one fact we know
of—a fact to be presently discussed—throws so much light on the
question we are considering as this circumstance does. Let us consider
a little whence these tidal waves can have come.
The narrow straits between Greenland on the one side, and Ellesmere
Land and Grinnell Land on the other, are completely ice-bound. We
cannot suppose that the tidal wave could have found its way beneath
such a barrier as this. ‘I apprehend,’ says Captain Maury, ‘that the
tidal wave from the Atlantic can no more pass under this icy barrier,
to be propagated in the seas beyond, than the vibrations of a musical
string can pass with its notes a fret on which the musician has placed
his finger.’
Are we to suppose, then, that the tidal waves were formed in the very
sea in which they were seen by Kane and Hayes? This is Captain Maury’s
opinion:—‘These tides,’ says he, ‘must have been born in that cold sea,
having their cradle about the North Pole.’
But if we carefully consider the theory of the tides, this opinion
seems inadmissible. Every consideration on which that theory is founded
is opposed to the assumption that the moon could by any possibility
raise tides in an arctic basin of limited extent. It would be out of
place to examine at length the principle on which the formation of
tides depends. It will be sufficient for our purposes to remark that it
is not to the mere strength of the moon’s ‘pull’ upon the waters of
any ocean that the tidal wave owes its origin, but to the difference of
the forces by which the various parts of that ocean are attracted. The
whole of an ocean cannot be raised at once by the moon; but if one part
is attracted more than another, a wave is formed. That this may happen,
the ocean must be one of wide extent. In the vast seas which surround
the Southern Pole there is room for an immensely powerful ‘drag,’ so to
speak; for always there will be one part of these seas much nearer to
the moon than the rest, and so there will be an appreciable difference
of pull upon that part.
The reader will now see why I have been so careful to ascertain the
limits of the supposed north-polar ocean, in which, according to
Captain Maury, tidal waves are generated. To accord with his views,
this ocean must be surrounded on all sides by impassable barriers
either of land or ice. These barriers, then, must lie to the northward
of the regions yet explored, for there is open sea communicating with
the Pacific all round the north of Asia and America. It only requires a
moment’s inspection of a terrestrial globe to see how small a space is
thus left for Captain Maury’s land-locked ocean. I have purposely left
out of consideration, as yet, the advances made by arctic voyagers in
the direction of the sea which lies between Greenland and Spitzbergen.
We shall presently see that on this side the imaginary land-locked
ocean must be more limited than towards the shores of Asia or America.
As it is, however, it remains clear, that if there were any ocean
communicating with the spot reached by Dr. Kane, but separated from
all communication—by open water—either with the Atlantic or with the
Pacific, that ocean would be so limited in extent that the moon’s
attraction could exert no more effective influence upon its waters
than upon the waters of the Mediterranean—where, as we know, no tides
are generated. This, then, would be a tideless ocean, and we must look
elsewhere for an explanation of the tidal waves seen by Dr. Kane.
We thus seem to have _primâ facie_ evidence that the sea reached
by Kane communicates either with the Pacific or with the Atlantic,
or—which is the most probable view—with both those oceans. When we
consider the voyages which have been made towards the North Pole along
the northerly prolongation of the Atlantic Ocean, we find very strong
evidence in favour of the view that there is open-water communication
in this direction, not only with the spot reached by Kane, but with a
region very much nearer to the North Pole.
So far back as 1607, Hudson had penetrated within eight and a half
degrees (or about 600 miles) of the North Pole on this route. When
we consider the clumsy build and the poor sailing qualities of the
ships of Hudson’s day, we cannot but feel that so successful a journey
marks this route as one of the most promising ever tried. Hudson was
not turned back by impassable barriers of land or ice, but by the
serious dangers to which the floating masses of ice and the gradually
thickening ice-fields exposed his weak and ill-manned vessel. Since
his time, others have sailed upon the same track, and hitherto with no
better success. It was reserved to the Swedish expedition of 1868 to
gain the highest latitudes ever reached in a ship in this direction.
The steamship ‘Sofia,’ in which this successful voyage was made, was
strongly built of Swedish iron, and originally intended for winter
voyages in the Baltic. Owing to a number of delays, it was not until
September 16 that the ‘Sofia’ reached the most northerly part of her
journey. This was a point some fifteen miles nearer the North Pole than
Hudson had reached. To the north there still lay broken ice, but packed
so thickly that not even a boat could pass through it. So late in the
season, it would have been unsafe to wait for a change of weather and
a consequent breaking-up of the ice. Already the temperature had sunk
sixteen degrees below the freezing-point; and the enterprising voyagers
had no choice but to return. They made, indeed, another push for the
north a fortnight later, but only to meet with a fresh repulse. An
ice-block with which they came into collision opened a large leak in
the vessel’s side; and when after great exertions they reached the
land, the water already stood two feet over the cabin floor. In the
course of these attempts, the depths of the Atlantic were sounded, and
two interesting facts were revealed. The first was that the island
of Spitzbergen is connected with Scandinavia by a submarine bank; the
second was the circumstance that to the north and west of Spitzbergen
the Atlantic is more than two miles deep!
We come now to the most conclusive evidence yet afforded of the
extension of the Atlantic Ocean towards the immediate neighbourhood
of the North Pole. Singularly enough, this evidence is associated not
with a sea-voyage, nor with a voyage across ice to the borders of
some northern sea, but with a journey during which the voyagers were
throughout surrounded as far as the eye could reach by apparently fixed
ice-fields.
In 1827 Sir Edward Parry was commissioned by the English Government to
attempt to reach the North Pole. A large reward was promised in case
he succeeded, or even if he could get within five degrees of the North
Pole. The plan which he adopted seemed promising. Starting from a port
in Spitzbergen, he proposed to travel as far northward as possible in
sea-boats, and then, landing upon the ice, to prosecute his voyage by
means of sledges. Few narratives of arctic travel are more interesting
than that which Parry has left of this famous ‘boat-and-sledge’
expedition. The voyagers were terribly harassed by the difficulties of
the way; and after a time, that most trying of all arctic experiences,
the bitterly cold wind which comes from out the dreadful north, was
added to their trials. Yet still they plodded steadily onwards,
tracking their way over hundreds of miles of ice with the confident
expectation of at least attaining to the eighty-fifth parallel, if not
to the Pole itself.