giving them the new names which the expedition invented, and which
are now adopted by geographers. Kiyanja became Mount Baker, and its
highest point is called Edward Peak after the then King of England.
Due south, across the Freshfield Pass, stands Mount Luigi di Savoia,
a name given by the Royal Geographical Society and not by the Duke,
who wished to christen it after Joseph Thomson the traveller. Due
north from Mount Baker, and separated from it by the upper Bujuku
valley, is Mount Speke (the Duwoni of Johnston), with its main summit
called Vittorio Emanuele. West of the gap between Baker and Speke
stands the highest summit of all, Mount Stanley, with its twin peaks
Margherita and Alexandra. North of Mount Speke is Mount Emin, and
east of the latter is Mount Gessi. Five of the great massifs cluster
around the Bujuku valley, while the sixth, Mount Luigi di Savoia,
stands by itself at the south end of the chain.
The assault on Mount Stanley was delayed for some days by abominable
weather. At last came a clear season, and the Duke with his guides
crossed Freshfield Pass and ascended the valley at the back of Mount
Baker. There they spent an evening, which showed what Ruwenzori
could be like when clouds are absent. They found a little lake,
embosomed in flowers, under the cliffs, and looking to the west they
saw the sun set in crimson and gold over the great spaces of the
Congo Forest. Next day they reached the col which bears the name of
Scott Elliot, and encamped on one of the Mount Stanley glaciers at
the height of 14,817 feet. At 7.30 on the following morning they
reached the top of the first peak, Alexandra, 16,749 feet high. A
short descent and a difficult piece of step-cutting through snow
cornices took them to the summit of Margherita (16,815 feet), the
highest point of the range:--
"They emerged from the mist into splendid clear sunlight. At their
feet lay a sea of fog. An impenetrable layer of light ashy-white
cloud-drift, stretching as far as the eye could reach, was drifting
rapidly north-westward. From the immense moving surface emerged two
fixed points, two pure white peaks sparkling in the sun with their
myriad snow crystals. These were the two extreme summits of the
highest peaks. The Duke of the Abruzzi named these summits
Margherita and Alexandra, 'in order that, under the auspices of these
two royal ladies, the memory of the two nations may be handed down to
posterity--of Italy, whose name was the first to resound on these
snows in a shout of victory, and of England, which in its marvellous
colonial expansion carries civilization to the slopes of these remote
mountains.' It was a thrilling moment when the little tricolor flag,
given by H.M. Queen Margherita of Savoy, unfurled to the wind and sun
the embroidered letters of its inspiring motto, 'Ardisci e Spera.'"
The conquest of Mount Stanley was the culminating point of the
expedition. After that, the topography being known, it only remained
to ascend the four massifs of Speke, Emin, Gessi, and Luigi di
Savoia. In addition, the Bujuku valley, with its tributary the
Migusi, was thoroughly explored. The aim of the Duke being
completeness, many of the peaks were ascended several times to verify
the observations. There is an account of how from one peak in a
sudden blink of fine weather the leader saw two portions of the
expedition in different parts of the range moving about their
allotted tasks. The result of this wise organization is that to-day
the world knows every peak, glacier, and valley in Ruwenzori far more
minutely than many habitable parts of the East African plateau. The
expedition was not only a fine adventure, but a wonderful piece of
solid and enduring scientific work. No Englishman will grudge that
the honours of the pioneer fell to so brilliant a climber and so
unwearied a traveller as the Duke of the Abruzzi. The Italian name
has always stood high in mountaineering annals, and the Duke has long
ago earned his place in that inner circle of fame which includes
Mummery and Guido Rey, Moore and Zsigmondy.
[Illustration: The Valley to the West of Mount Baker. (_By
permission of Messrs. Arch. Constable & Co., Ltd._)]
The riddle of equatorial snow has been solved, and there is nothing
very startling in the answer. The upper part of the mountains has no
marvels to show equal to the giant groundsels and lobelias and the
forests of heath on the lower slopes. The glaciers are all small,
without tributaries, as in Norway; and there are no real basins, but
merely "a sort of glacier caps from which ice digitations flow down
at divers points." All the same, the glacier formation is more
respectable than Mr. Freshfield thought, for he saw only the small
ice-stream at the head of the Mobuku, and was not aware of the much
greater one from Mount Stanley which descends to the upper Bujuku
valley. The limit of perpetual snow is about 14,600 feet. Mr.
Freshfield was so struck by the small size of the Mobuku torrent
where it issues from the glacier, and by its clearness, that he
thought it must come from some underground spring rather than from a
real melting of the ice. He maintained that tropical glaciers were
consumed mainly by evaporation and only in a small degree by melting.
The Duke has, however, made it clear that the glaciers of Ruwenzori
are subject to the same conditions as those of the Alps, and that
their streams are true glacier torrents. The limpidity of the water
he ascribes to their almost complete immobility, which means that
there is no grinding of the detritus in their beds.
On the whole, the range offers no great scope for the energies of the
mountaineer. The ice and snow work is easy, and even the huge
cornices, such as are found on Margherita, are fairly safe for the
climber, owing to the way in which they are propped by a forest of
ice stalactites caused by the rapid melting of the snow. On the
other hand, there is abundance of rock climbing of every degree of
difficulty, for the mountains below the snow-line fall very sheer to
the valleys. Luigi di Savoia, Emin, and Gessi are virtually rock
peaks; an isolated summit, Mount Cagni, is wholly rock; and there are
fine rock faces on Mount Baker and the Edward and Savoia Peaks of
Mount Stanley. I doubt, however, if Ruwenzori will ever be a centre
for the rock gymnast. The weather would damp the ardour of the most
earnest _habitué_ of Chamonix or San Martino. A few hours of
sunshine once a week are not enough in which to plan out routes up
cliffs whose scale far exceeds the measure of the Alps. The Grepon
or the Dru would have long remained virgin if their crags had been
for ever slimy with moisture and draped in mist, and the climber had
to descend to no comfortable Montanvert, but to a clammy tent among
swamps and mildews.
And yet those peaks remain almost the strangest of the world's
wonders, and their ascent will always be one of the finest of human
adventures. They are Mountains of the Moon rather than of this
common earth. The first discoverers brought back tales which were
scarcely credible--ice-peaks of Himalayan magnitude, soaring out of
flame-coloured tropic jungles. For long mountaineers were consumed
with curiosity as to what mysteries lay behind that veil of mist.
For all they knew, equatorial snow might be difficult beyond the
skill of man, and Ruwenzori the eternal and unapproachable goal of
the adventurer's ambition. The truth is prosaic beside these
imaginings. Any man who can afford the time and the money, who
selects the right time of year, and is sound in wind and limb, can
stand on the dome of Margherita.
But the experience will still be unique, for these mountains have no
fellows on the globe. There is a certain kinship between the tale of
the first ascent of Mount McKinley in Alaska,* and that of the Duke
of the Abruzzi. That gaunt icy peak is as unlike the ordinary snow
mountain as Ruwenzori. The climb began from the glacier at a height
of 1,000 feet, and 19,000 feet of snow and ice had to be surmounted.
The Alaskan giant and the Mountains of the Moon stand at the opposite
poles of climate, but both are alike in being outside the brotherhood
of mountains. They are extravagances of Nature, moulded without
regard to human needs. For mountains, when all has been said, belong
to the habitable world. They are barriers between the settlements of
man, and from their isolation the climber looks to the vineyards and
cornlands and cities of the plains. An ice-peak near the Pole and a
range veiled in the steaming mists of the Line are solitudes more
retired and sanctuaries more inviolate. The common mountain-top
lifts a man above the tumult of the lowlands, but these seem to carry
him beyond the tumult of the world.
* See Chapter VI.
V
THE SOUTH POLE
THE SOUTH POLE
(_Map_, p. 144.)
I
The imaginations of bold men were captured by the idea of Arctic
exploration for centuries before the Antarctic was even thought of as
a field for discovery. The Arctic regions have a history dating back
to the days of King Alfred; the Antarctic can make no such boast as
this, and it is true to say that attention was first drawn to the Far
South by the map-makers.
Much praise is due to the early map-makers; but as regards the Far
South it must be admitted that they indulged in considerable
guesswork. Ortelius, for instance, in his map of the world which was
published in Antwerp in 1570, had the temerity to draw the coast of
"Terra Australia nondum cognita" round the world as far north, in two
places, as the Tropic of Capricorn.
Hakluyt did, in 1599, omit the Southern continent from his celebrated
map of the world, an abstinence on his part that deserves to be
mentioned. But fictions, in spite of Hakluyt, continued to appear in
later maps; and if they did nothing else, they were at least useful
in directing the thoughts of navigators towards the Antarctic.
Accident rather than design was, however, responsible for the first
discoveries in the South. In 1520 Magellan found the strait which is
known by his name, and during the sixteenth century what discoveries
were made in the direction of the South were due to contrary winds.
Owing to gales, Sir Francis Drake, in 1578, reached in latitude 56°
S. "the uttermost part of the land towards the South Pole," and so,
sadly against his will, made discoveries. And it was owing to what
has happily been called "a discovery-causing gale" that some Dutch
ships, which had set out in 1598 for the exciting but scarcely
laudable purpose of plundering the coasts of Chile and Peru, were
scattered in all directions. One of these ships, a mere baby of 18
tons, was driven to 64° S., and there her captain, Dirk Gerritsz,
sighted "high land with mountains covered with snow, like the land of
Norway."
If proof of the universal ignorance of the South at the beginning of
the seventeenth century is needed, we have the expedition of Pedro
Fernandez de Quiros. Quiros was commissioned by the King of Spain,
Philip III., to undertake a voyage for the purpose of annexing the
South Polar continent; and after this annexation had been completed,
he was commanded to convert the inhabitants to the true faith. It
was an ambitious programme, and it was far indeed from being carried
out. In fact, the result of the expedition was almost comical.
Quiros discovered the largest island of the New Hebrides, and in the
belief that it was part of the Southern continent, he not only
annexed it, but also the South Pole itself, to the Crown of Spain!
This expedition must be considered the first Antarctic expedition,
but there is no denying that its results were more ludicrous than
encouraging.
Little progress was made during the seventeenth century in adding to
the world's knowledge of the South, but in one way and another the
map-makers received severe buffets. Towards the end of that century
and the beginning of the next, some ships reached 62° S. and 63° S.,
and encountering great icebergs, gained knowledge that tended to
disperse the idea of a huge continent, from which men could reap
wealth and live in comfort while reaping it. In spite, however, of
this waning belief in a fertile and populous Southern continent,
several voyages were undertaken to look for it; but it is to be noted
that the men who made these adventurous journeys were not in the
least interested in exploration for exploration's sake. The reason
why they made these expeditions was mainly because they hoped to
enrich themselves. Not until the latter half of the eighteenth
century was there any change in what may be called the spirit of
exploration; and then, in 1764, the English Government issued
instructions to Commodore Byron which clearly showed that the
importance of discovery, for discovery's sake alone, was beginning to
be realized.
Science had been making progress, and the desire really to know, and
no longer to guess at, the extent and nature of the world,
perceptibly increased. Scientists, engaged solely on scientific
work, accompanied both the expeditions of Marion and Kerguelen, and
when Captain James Cook sailed in 1772 from Deptford, on what was the
first British Antarctic expedition, he was also accompanied by
scientists.
The name of James Cook will always be given a place of honour among
explorers, for, quite apart from the discoveries that he made, he set
an example of courage in facing dangers and difficulties that can
never be forgotten. He and all the earlier navigators, we must
remember, had to undertake their voyages in ships that were totally
unfit to encounter ice. And when this fact is realized, we are
compelled to admire the pertinacity with which they carried out their
work, and to recognize that the results of their efforts were, under
the circumstances, magnificent.
It has been well said that James Cook defined the Antarctic region
and that James Ross discovered it; and, indeed, it would be difficult
to overestimate the importance either of Cook's voyages or of those
subsequently undertaken by Ross.
January 17, 1773, was a red-letter day in the annals of exploration,
for during its forenoon Cook crossed the Antarctic Circle for the
first time. Icebergs and loose pack-ice were then surrounding him,
but he pushed on until he sighted closely packed ice. In his opinion
he might possibly have pushed his way through this ice, but in such a
ship as the _Resolution_ (462 tons) he did not consider himself
justified in making so dangerous an experiment. The latitude that he
reached was 71° 10' S., longitude 106° 54' W.
Cook's expedition returned to Portsmouth in July, 1775, and then the
value of his voyage was recognized. He had made the circuit of the
Southern ocean in a high latitude, and had for ever crushed the idea
of a fertile and fruitful Southern continent. If land lay beyond the
Antarctic Circle, Cook thought that it must consist of "countries
condemned to everlasting rigidity by Nature, never to yield to the
warmth of the sun, for whose wild and desolate aspect I find no
words." Cook, in short, had revealed the limits of the habitable
globe, and his accounts of what he had encountered in the Far South
did not encourage men, who were anxious to find land in which
fortunes could quickly be made, to think longingly of the Antarctic.
After Cook's return no serious attempt at geographical discoveries in
the South was made until the Russian Government, in 1819, sent an
expedition, under Captain Bellingshausen, to the Southern seas.
Bellingshausen's ambition was to rival Cook's feat of making the
circuit of the Southern ocean in high latitude, and he achieved it.
He was also the first explorer definitely to discover land within the
Antarctic Circle.
Two or three years later James Weddell, whose real business was
sealing, reached a latitude of 74° 15' S., more than three degrees to
the south of Cook's farthest point; and for nearly twenty years
Weddell's record remained intact.
During the first half of the nineteenth century the Southern seas
became the scene of extensive sealing industries, and however much we
may regret the wholesale slaughter that took place, we have to
confess that some of these sealers made important geographical
discoveries. Both Captain John Biscoe and Captain John Balleny were
engaged in the Antarctic sealing trade, but they were fortunate
enough to be employed by the firm of Enderby. Charles Enderby
instructed his captains not to neglect geographical discovery, and
his instructions were faithfully carried out. To the enterprise of
Enderby, and to the courage and perseverance of his captains, we owe
the discovery of Graham Land, Enderby Land, Kempe Island, and Sabrina
Land.
A French expedition under Captain D'Urville, and an American one
under Captain Wilkes, followed in 1840. D'Urville, who encountered
so many icebergs that he felt as if he was "in the narrow streets of
a city of giants," sighted land in latitude 66° S., longitude 140°
E., and named this coast Adélie Land. Wilkes also claimed to have
discovered land; but of his claims one of our greatest explorers has
written: "Had he been more circumspect in his reports of land, all
would have agreed that his voyage was a fine performance."
Two or three years before D'Urville and Wilkes set out upon their
voyages, Colonel Sabine, at a meeting of the British Association,
read a paper on the subject of terrestrial magnetism, and the result
was that Polar exploration received a great incentive. By this time
the importance of terrestrial magnetism in regard to the navigation
of ships was admitted, and the Government was petitioned to send a
naval expedition for the purpose of increasing our knowledge of this
science in the South. A favourable reply was received from Lord
Melbourne, and in 1839 Sir James Ross was appointed to command an
expedition whose object was rather magnetic research than
geographical discovery. Two old bomb vessels, the _Erebus_ (370
tons) and the _Terror_ (340 tons), were selected by Ross, and when
their bows had been strengthened he had at his disposal the first
vessels that could be navigated among the Southern pack-ice. A
detailed account of Ross's achievements cannot be given, but of them
Captain Scott wrote: "The high mountain ranges and the coastline of
Victoria Land were laid down with comparative accuracy from Cape
North in latitude 71 to Wood Bay in latitude 74, and their extension
was indicated less definitely to McMurdo Bay in latitude 77½.... Few
things could have looked more hopeless than an attack upon that
ice-bound region which lay within the Antarctic Circle; yet out of
this desolate prospect Ross wrested an open sea, a vast mountain
region, a smoking volcano (Erebus), and a hundred problems of
interest to the geographer."*
* _The Voyage of the "Discovery"_ (John Murray), page 16.
The highest latitude reached by Ross was 78° 10' S., and he described
the huge wall of ice which he sighted there and named the Great
Barrier, as a "mighty and wonderful object, far beyond anything we
could have thought of or conceived." This Barrier was in later years
found to be 400 miles wide, and of even greater length.
Slowly, very slowly, the Far South was being compelled to reveal some
of its secrets, but in spite of the interest and enthusiasm caused by
Ross's discoveries, many years passed, after his return to England in
1843, before further steps were taken to make geographical
discoveries in the Antarctic.
But during this period, in which geographical enterprise languished,
scientific research was being carried on. A great desire to increase
the knowledge of the science of oceanography had sprung up, and as a
practical outcome of the labours of scientists and inventors, the
Challenger expedition, excellently equipped for scientific research,
set out under the command of Captain Nares in January 1873. This
expedition was in itself most important, but it is not belittling it
to say that part of its value in the history of Antarctic exploration
lies in the fact that it stimulated interest in the Far South, and
this interest gradually increased until the wish to solve the
mysteries of the South Polar regions became dominant in the minds of
many men in England and Germany. In 1885 the British Association
appointed an Antarctic Committee, and some two years later this
Committee reported in favour of further exploration.
Great difficulties, chiefly financial, had, however, to be faced by
the supporters of this expedition, and a shrewd blow was received
when the Board of Trade refused to recommend a grant of money because
there were no trade returns from the Antarctic regions!--a reply that
might produce a derisive smile from the most zealous of economists.
For the moment the idea of Antarctic exploration had received a
decided setback. But determined men were working to conquer the
practical difficulties; and none more determined than Sir Clements
Markham, who was elected President of the Royal Geographical Society
in May 1893.
No sooner was it generally known that a real effort was being made in
England to make further discoveries in Antarctica--as it was by this
time called--than several other countries were stimulated at various
dates to send out expeditions. Borchgrevink, a Norwegian, De
Gerlache, a Belgian, Otto Nordenskiöld, a Swede, and Charcot, a
Frenchman, led expeditions, all of which did valuable work in the
South.
II
In November, 1893, a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society was
held, and the duties of the projected British expedition were stated.
The first duty was "to determine the nature and extent of the
Antarctic continent;" the fifth was "to obtain as complete a series
as possible of magnetic and meteorological observations." Such an
expedition was intended both to encourage maritime enterprise and to
add to the world's knowledge. From the outset the promoters had
decided that their expedition should be under naval control, but the
Government could not be persuaded to take charge of it. The
Admiralty, however, assisted both with the loan of instruments and by
granting leave to officers and men on full pay.
Innumerable obstacles continued to hamper the promoters on every
side, but they were slowly removed, and at last the ship was launched
at Dundee in March, 1901, and christened the _Discovery_.
Sir Clements Markham, fourteen years before, had, in his own mind,
selected the fittest commander if an expedition to the South ever
became practicable. The name of this commander was Robert Falcon
Scott, and after much opposition had been overcome--opposition which
Sir Clements described as "harder to force a way through than the
most impenetrable of ice-packs"--Scott's appointment was confirmed.
A great attack upon the Antarctic regions was about to be made, but
it is worthy of record that in the instructions issued to Captain
Scott no mention of the South Pole as an objective was made.
By July the labour of preparation for the expedition was almost
finished, and on August 5, 1901, the _Discovery_ was visited by King
Edward VII. and Queen Alexandra, and then started on her adventurous
voyage. We can easily understand Scott's anxiety to be up and away,
for he had no Polar experience to help and guide him, and his desire
to justify the confidence placed in him must have been intense.
In the _Discovery_, in addition to Scott himself, were several men
whose names were destined to become famous in the history of Polar
exploration. Ernest H. Shackleton was a second-lieutenant; Ernest A.
Wilson was described as surgeon, artist, and vertebrate zoologist;
Edgar Evans was a petty officer; Frank Wild and Thomas Crean were
A.B.'s; William Lashley was a stoker. Surely the nucleus of a goodly
company.
Lyttelton, New Zealand, had been chosen for the headquarters of the
expedition in the South, and the _Discovery_ arrived there on 30th
November. She stayed for three weeks to re-fit and take in
provisions, and then started upon the next stage of her eventful
journey. The Antarctic Circle was crossed on 3rd January, and soon
afterwards the pack was on all sides of the ship; but she behaved
splendidly, and Scott was delighted with the way she forced herself
through the ice.