ice-islands were so numerous that there was hardly a large enough
channel between them for any manoeuvring.
"Their straight walls," says D'Urville, "rose far above our masts,
glowering down upon our vessels, which appeared of absurdly small
dimensions, as compared with their huge masses. The spectacle spread
out before us was alike grand and terrible. One might have fancied
oneself in the narrow streets of a city of giants."
[Illustration: "Their straight walls rose far above our masts."]
The corvettes soon entered a huge basin, formed by the coast and the
ice-islands which had just been passed. The land stretched away in the
south-east and north-west as far as the eye could reach. It was between
three and four thousand feet high, but nowhere presented any very
salient features. In the centre of the vast snow plain rose a few
rocks. The two captains at once sent off boats with orders to bring
back specimens which should testify to the discovery made. We quote
from the account of Du Bouzet, one of the officers told off on this
important survey.
"It was nearly nine o'clock when to our great delight we landed on the
western side of the most westerly and loftiest islet. The _Astrolabe_
boat had arrived one moment before ours, and its crew were already
clambering up the steep sides of the rock, flinging down the penguins
as they went, the birds showing no small surprise at being thus
summarily dispossessed of the island, of which they had been hitherto
the only inhabitants. I at once sent one of our sailors to unfurl a
tricolour flag on these territories, which no human creature had seen
or trod before ourselves. According to the old custom--to which the
English have clung tenaciously--we took possession of them in the name
of France, together with the neighbouring coast, which we were
prevented from visiting by the ice. The only representatives of the
animal kingdom were the penguins, for in spite of all our researches we
did not find a single shell. The rocks were quite bare, without so much
as the slightest sign of a lichen. We had to fall back on the mineral
kingdom. We each took a hammer and began chipping at the rock, but, it
being of granite, was so extremely hard that we could only obtain very
small bits. Fortunately in climbing to the summit of the island the
sailors found some big pieces of rock broken off by the frost, and
these they embarked in their boats. Looking closely at them, I noticed
an exact resemblance between these rocks and the little bits of gneiss
which we had found in the stomach of a penguin we had killed the day
before. The little islet on which we landed is part of a group of eight
or ten of similar character and form; they are between five hundred and
six hundred yards from the nearest coast. We also noticed on the beach
several peaks and a cape quite free from snow. These islets, close as
they are to each other, seem to form a continuous chain parallel with
the coast, and stretching away from east to west."
On the 22nd and 23rd the survey of this coast was continued; but on the
second day an iceberg soldered to the coast compelled the vessels to
turn back towards the north, whilst at the same time a sudden and
violent snow-storm overtook and separated them. The _Zelee_ especially
sustained considerable damage, but was able to rejoin her consort the
next day.
Throughout it all, however, sight of the land had not, so to speak,
been lost, but on the 29th the wind blew so strongly and persistently
from the east, that D'Urville had to abandon the survey of Adelie Land.
It was on this same day that he sighted the vessels of Lieutenant
Wilkes. D'Urville complains of the discourtesy of the latter, and says
that his own manoeuvres intended to open communications with them had
been misunderstood by the Americans.
"We are no longer," he says, "in the days when navigators in the
interests of commerce thought it necessary carefully to conceal their
route and their discoveries, to avoid the competition of rival nations.
I should, on the contrary, have been glad to point out to our emulators
the result of our researches, in the hope that such information might
be of use to them and increase our geographical knowledge."
On the 30th January a huge wall of ice was sighted, as to the nature of
which opinions were divided. Some said it was a compact and isolated
mass, others--and this was D'Urville's opinion--thought these lofty
mountains had a base of earth or of rocks, or that they might even be
the bulwarks of a huge extent of land which they called Clarie. It is
situated in 128 degrees E. long.
The officers had collected sufficient information in these latitudes to
determine the position of the southern magnetic pole, but the results
obtained by them did not accord with those given by Duperrey, Wilkes,
and Ross.
On the 17th February the two corvettes once more cast anchor off
Hobart's Town, and on the 25th set sail again for New Zealand, where
they completed the hydrographical surveys of the _Uranie_. They then
made for New Guinea, ascertained that it was not separated by a strait
from the Louisiade Archipelago, surveyed Torres Strait with the
greatest care, in spite of dangers from currents, coral reefs, &c.;
arrived at Timor on the 20th, and returned to Toulon on the 8th
November, after touching at Bourbon and St. Helena.
When the news of the grand discoveries made by the United States
reached England, a spirit of emulation was aroused, and the learned
societies decided on sending an expedition to the regions in which
Weddell and Biscoe had been the only explorers since the time of Cook.
Captain James Clark Ross, who was appointed to the command of this
expedition, was the nephew of the famous John Ross, explorer of
Baffin's Bay. Born in 1800, James Ross was a sailor from the age of
twelve. He accompanied his uncle in 1818 in his first Arctic
expedition, had taken part under Parry in four expeditions to the same
latitudes, and from 1829-1833 he had been his uncle's constant and
faithful companion. Entrusted with the taking of scientific
observations, he had discovered the north magnetic pole, and he had
also made a good many excursions across the ice on foot and in sledges.
He was, therefore, now one of the most experienced of British naval
officers in Polar expeditions.
[Illustration: Captain John Ross.]
Two vessels, the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_, were entrusted to him, and
his second in command was an accomplished sailor, Captain Francis
Rowdon Crozier, companion of Parry in 1824; of Ross in 1835 in Baffin's
Bay; and the future companion of Franklin in the _Terror_, in his
search for the north-west passage. It would have been impossible to
find a braver or more experienced sailor.
The instructions given to James Ross by the Admiralty differed
essentially from those received by Wilkes and Dumont d'Urville. For the
latter the exploration of the Antarctic regions was but one incident of
their voyage round the world, whereas it was the very _raison d'etre_
of Ross's journey. Of the three years he would be away from Europe, the
greater part was to be spent in the Antarctic regions, and he would
only leave the ice to repair the damages to his vessels or recruit the
health of his crew, worn out as they would probably be by fatigue and
sickness.
The vessels had been equally judiciously chosen, stronger than those of
D'Urville, they were better fitted to resist the repeated assaults of
the ice, and their seasoned crews had been chosen from sailors familiar
with polar navigation.
The _Erebus_ and _Terror_, under the command of Ross and Crozier, left
England on the 29th September, 1839, and touched successively at
Madeira, the Cape Verd Islands, St. Helena, and the Cape of Good Hope,
where numerous magnetic observations were taken.
On the 12th April Ross reached Kerguelen's Island, and there landed his
instruments. The scientific harvest was abundant. Some fossil trees
were extracted from the lava of which this island is formed, and some
rich layers of coal were discovered, which have not yet been worked.
The 29th was fixed for simultaneous magnetic observations in different
parts of the globe, and by a singular coincidence some magnetic storms
such as had already visited Europe, were on this very day observed in
these latitudes. The instrument registered the same phenomena as at
Toronto, Canada, proving the vast extent of these meteoric
disturbances, and the incredible rapidity with which they spread.
On his arrival at Hobart Town, where his old friend John Franklin was
now governor, Ross heard of the discovery of Adelie and of Clarie Lands
by the French, and the simultaneous survey of them by Wilkes, who had
even left a sketch of his map of the coasts.
Ross, however, decided to make for E. long. 170 degrees, because it was
in that direction that Balleny had found an open sea extending to S.
lat. 69 degrees. He duly reached first the Auckland and then the
Campbell Islands, and after having, like his predecessors, tacked about
a great deal in a sea strewn with ice-islands, he came beyond the
sixty-third degree to the edge of the stationary ice, and on the 1st
January, 1841, crossed the Antarctic Circle.
The floating ice did not in any respect resemble that of the Arctic
regions, as James Ross very soon discovered. It consisted of huge
blocks, with regular and vertical walls, whilst the ice-fields, less
compact than those of the north, move about in chaotic confusion,
looking, to quote Wilkes' imaginative simile, like a heaving land, as
they alternately break away from each other and reunite.
To Ross the ice barrier did not present so formidable an appearance as
it had done to the French and Americans. He did not at first venture
upon it, however, being kept in the offing by storms. Not until the 5th
January was he able to penetrate to S. lat. 66 degrees 45 minutes, and
E. long. 174 degrees 16 minutes. Circumstances could not have been more
favourable, for the sea and wind were both acting upon and loosening
the ice, and thanks to the strength of his vessels, Ross was able to
cut a passage. As he advanced further and further southward, the fog
became denser and the constant snow-storms added to the already serious
dangers of navigation. Encouraged, however, by the reflection in the
sky of an open sea, a phenomenon which turned out to be trustworthy, he
pushed on, and on the 9th January, after crossing 200 miles of ice he
actually entered that open sea!
On the 11th January land was sighted 100 miles ahead in S. lat. 70
degrees 47 minutes and E. long. 172 degrees 36 minutes. This, the most
southern land ever yet discovered, consisted of snow-clad peaks with
glaciers sloping down to the sea, the peaks rising to a height of from
nine to twelve thousand feet. This estimate, judging from D'Urville's
remarks on Graham's Land, may, however, possibly be an exaggerated one.
Here, there, and everywhere, black rocks rose up from the snow, but the
coast was so shut in with ice that landing was impossible. This curious
series of huge peaks received the name of Admiralty chain, and the
country itself that of Victoria.
[Illustration: Map of Victoria, discovered by James Ross. _Engraved by
E. Morieu._]
A few little islands were made out in the south-east before the vessels
left this coast, and on the 12th January the two captains, with some of
their officers, disembarked on one of the volcanic islets, and took
possession of it in the name of England. Not the slightest trace of
vegetation was found upon it.
Ross soon ascertained that the eastern side of this vast land sloped
towards the south, whilst the northern stretched away to the
north-west. He, therefore, skirted along the eastern beach, forcing a
passage in a southerly direction beyond the magnetic pole, which he
places near S. lat. 76 degrees, and then returning by the west, thus
entirely circumnavigating his new discovery, which he looked upon as a
very large island. The mountain chain extends all along the coast. Ross
gave to the principal peaks the names of Herschell, Whewell,
Wheatstone, Murchison, and Melbourne. He was unable, however, on
account of the ever-increasing quantity of ice about the coast, to make
out the details of its outlines. On the 23rd January the seventy-fourth
degree, the most southerly latitude ever reached, was passed.
The vessels were now considerably hampered by fogs, southerly gales,
and violent snow-storms, but they managed to continue their cruise
along the coast, and on the 27th January the English disembarked on a
little volcanic island in S. lat. 76 degrees 8 minutes and E. long. 168
degrees 12 minutes, to which they gave the name of Franklin.
The next day a huge mountain was seen, which rose abruptly to a height
of 12,000 feet above a far-stretching land. The summit, of regular
form, and completely covered with snow, was every now and then wrapped
in a thick cloud of smoke, no less than 300 feet in diameter. Taking
this diameter as a standard of measure, the height of the cloud, in
shape like an inverted cone, would be about one-half of it. When this
cloud of smoke dispersed, a bare crater was discovered, lit up by a
bright red glow, visible even in broad daylight. The sides of the
mountain were covered with snow up to the very crater, and it was
impossible to make out any signs of a flow of lava.
A volcano is always a magnificent spectacle, and the sight of this one
rising up from amongst the Antarctic ice, and excelling Etna and
Teneriffe in its marvellous activity, could not fail to make a vivid
impression upon the minds of the explorers. The name of Erebus was
given to it, and that of Terror to an extinct crater on the east of it,
both titles being admirably appropriate.
The two vessels continued their cruise along the northern coast of
Victoria, until their further passage was barred by a huge mass of ice
towering 505 feet above their masts. Behind this barrier rose another
mountain chain, which sunk out of sight in the S.S.E., and to which the
name of Parry was given. Ross skirted along the ice barrier in an
easterly direction until the 2nd February, when he reached S. lat. 78
degrees 4 minutes, the most southerly point attained on this trip,
during which he had followed the shores of the land he had discovered
for more than 300 miles. He left it in E. long. 191 degrees 23 minutes.
But for the strong favourable winds which now blew, it seems probable
that the vessels would never have issued in safety from amongst the
formidable ice masses through which they finally worked their way at
the cost of incredible exertions and fatigues, and in face of incessant
danger.
On the 15th February yet another attempt was made in S. lat. 76 degrees
to reach the magnetic pole; but further progress was barred by land in
S. lat. 76 degrees 12 minutes and E. long. 164 degrees, i.e. sixty-five
ordinary miles from the position assigned to it (the magnetic pole) by
Ross, and the appearance of this land was forbidding and the sea so
rough that the explorer gave up all idea of continuing his researches
on shore.
After identifying the islands discovered in 1839 by Balleny, Ross found
himself on the 6th March amongst the mountains alluded to by Wilkes.
"On the 4th March," says Ross's narrative, "they recrossed the
Antarctic Circle, and being necessarily close by the eastern extreme of
those _patches of land_ which Lieut. Wilkes has called 'the Antarctic
Continent,' and having reached the latitude on the 5th, they steered
directly for them; and at noon on the 6th, the ship being exactly over
the centre of this mountain range, they could obtain no soundings with
600 fathoms of line; and having traversed a space of eighty miles in
every direction from this spot, during beautiful clear weather, which
extended their vision widely around, were obliged to confess that this
position, at least, of the pseudo-antarctic continent, and the nearly
200 miles of barrier represented to extend from it, have no real
existence."[1]
[Footnote 1: The Editor of the _Literary Gazette_ adds the following
note. "Lieutenant Wilkes may have mistaken some clouds or fog-banks,
which in these regions are very likely to assume the appearance of land
to inexperienced eyes, for this continent and range of lofty mountains.
If so, the error is to be regretted, as it must tend to throw discredit
on other portions of his discoveries, which have a more substantial
foundation."--_Trans._]
The expedition got back to Tasmania without having a single case of
sickness on board or sustaining the slightest damage. The vessels were
here refitted, and the instruments regulated before starting on a
second trip, on which Sydney and Island's Bay, New Zealand, and
Chatham, were the first stations touched at by Ross to make magnetic
observations. On the 18th December, in S. lat. 62 degrees 40 minutes
and E. long, 146 degrees, ice was encountered 300 miles further north
than in the preceding year. The vessels had arrived too early, but
Ross, nevertheless, endeavoured to break through this formidable
barrier. After penetrating for 300 miles he was stopped by masses so
compact that it was impossible to go further, and he did not cross the
Antarctic Circle until the 1st January, 1842. On the 19th of the same
month the two vessels encountered the most violent storm just as they
were entering an open sea; the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ lost their helms,
floating ice washed over them, and for twenty-six hours they were in
danger of going down.
The detention of the expedition amongst the ice lasted no less than
forty-six days, and not until the 22nd did Ross reach the great barrier
of stationary ice, which was considerably lower beyond Erebus, where it
was no less than 200 feet high. When Ross came to it this year it was
only 107 feet high, and it was 150 miles further east than it had been
on the previous expedition. The acquisition of this piece of
geographical information was the only result of this arduous campaign,
extending over 136 days, and greatly excelling in dramatic interest the
preceding expedition.
The vessels now made for Cape Horn, and sailed up the coast as far as
Rio de Janeiro, where they found everything of which they stood in
need. As soon as they had laid in a stock of provisions they again put
to sea and reached the Falkland Islands, whence, on the 17th December,
1842, they started on their third trip.
The first ice was this time met with near Clarence Island, and on the
25th December Ross found his further progress barred by it. He then
made for the New Shetland Islands, completed the survey of Louis
Philippe and Joinville Lands, discovered by Dumont d'Urville, named
Mts. Haddington and Parry, ascertained that Louis Philippe's Land is
only a large island, and visited Bransfield Strait, separating it from
Shetland. Such were the marvellous results obtained by James Ross in
his three expeditions.
To assign to the three explorers, whose work in the Antarctic regions
we have been reviewing, his just meed of praise, we may say that
D'Urville first discovered the Antarctic continent; Wilkes traced its
shores for a considerable distance, for we cannot fail to recognize the
resemblance between his map and that of the French navigator; and that
James Ross visited the most southerly and most interesting part.
But is there such a continent after all? D'Urville was not quite sure
about it, and Ross did not believe in it. We must leave the decision of
this great question to the later explorers who were to follow in the
footsteps of the intrepid sailors whose voyages and discoveries we have
related.
II.
THE NORTH POLE.
Anjou and Wrangell--The "polynia"--John Ross's first expedition--
Baffin's Bay closed--Edward Parry's discoveries on his first voyage--
The survey of Hudson's Bay, and the discovery of Fury and Hecla
Straits--Parry's third voyage--Fourth voyage--On the ice in sledges in
the open sea--Franklin's first trip--Incredible sufferings of the
explorers--Second expedition--John Ross--Four winters amongst the ice--
Dease and Simpson's expedition.
We have more than once alluded to the great impulse given to
geographical science by Peter I. One of the earliest results of this
impulse was the discovery by Behring of the straits separating Asia
from America, and the most important was the survey thirty years later
of the Liakhov Archipelago, or New Siberia.
In 1770 a merchant named Liakhov noticed a large herd of reindeer
coming across the ice from the north, and he reflected that they could
only have come from a country where there were pastures enough to
support them. A month later he started in a sledge, and after a journey
of fifty miles he discovered between the mouths of the Lena and
Indighirka three large islands, the vast deposits of fossil ivory on
which have since become celebrated all over the world.
In 1809 Hedenstroem received instructions to make a map of this new
discovery. He made several attempts to cross the frozen ocean on a
sledge, but was always turned back by ice which would not bear him. He
came to the conclusion that there must be an open sea beyond, and he
founded this opinion on the immense quantity of warm water which flows
into the Arctic Ocean from the great rivers of Asia.
In March, 1821, Lieutenant (afterwards Admiral) Anjou crossed the ice
to within forty-two miles of the north of the island of Kotelnoi, and
in N. lat. 76 degrees 38 minutes saw a vapour which led him to believe
in the existence of an open sea. In a second trip he actually saw this
sea with its drifting ice, and came back convinced of the impossibility
of going further in a sledge on account of the thinness of the ice.
Whilst Anjou was thus employed, another naval officer, Lieutenant
Wrangell, collected some important traditions about the existence of
land the other side of Cape Yakan.
From a Tchouktchi chief he learnt that in fine weather--though never in
the winter--from the coast and some reefs at the mouth of a river
mountains covered with snow could be seen far away in the north; and
that in former days when the sea was frozen over reindeer used to come
from there. The chief had himself once seen a herd of reindeer on their
way back to the north by this route and he had followed them in a
sledge for a whole day until the state of the ice compelled him to give
up the experiment.
His father had told him, too, that a Tchouktchi had once gone there
with a few companions in a skin boat, but he did not know what they had
discovered or what had become of them. He was sure that the land in the
north was inhabited, because a dead whale had once been washed on to
Aratane Island with spears tipped with slate in its flesh, and the
Tchouktchis never used such weapons.
These facts were very curious, and they increased Wrangell's desire to
penetrate to the unknown northern districts; but the truth of all the
rumours was not verified until our own day.
Between 1820 and 1824 Wrangell made four expeditions in sledges from
the mouth of the Kolyma, which he made his headquarters, first
exploring the coast to Cape Tchelagskoi, and enduring thirty-five
degrees of cold; and in his second trip trying how far he could go
across the ice, an experiment resulting in a journey of 400 miles from
the land. In the third year (1822), Wrangell started in March with a
view to verifying the report of a native who said he had seen land in
the offing. He now came to an icefield, on which he advanced safely for
a long distance, when it began to be less compact and was soon not
solid enough to bear many sledges, so two small ones were selected, on
which were packed a wherry, some planks, and some tools. The explorer
then ventured on some melting ice which broke under his feet.
[Illustration: "Two small sledges were selected."]
"At the outset," says Wrangell, "I had to make way for seven wersts
across a bed of brine; further on appeared a surface furrowed with
great _crevasses_, which we could only succeed in clearing by the help
of our planks. I noticed in this part several small mounds of ice in
such a liquefying condition that the slightest touch would suffice to
break it and convert the mound into a round slough. The ice upon which
we were travelling was without consistency, was but a foot in
thickness, and--what was more--was riddled with holes.... I could only
compare the appearance of the sea, at this stage, to an immense morass;
and indeed the muddy water which issued from these thousands of
crevasses, opening up in every direction, the melting snow mixed with
earth and sand, those little mounds whence numerous streamlets were
issuing,--all these combined to make the illusion perfect."
Wrangell had advanced some 140 miles, and it was the open sea or the
_polynia_--as he calls vast expanses of water--north of Siberia, the
outskirts of which he had reached, the same in fact as that already
sighted by Leontjew in 1764, and Hedenstroem in 1810.
On his fourth voyage Wrangell and his small party of followers started
from Cape Yakan, the nearest point to the Arctic regions, and, after
passing Cape Tchelagskoi, made for the north; but a violent storm broke
up the ice, there only three feet thick, and involved the explorers in
the greatest danger. Now dragged across some large unbroken slab, now
wet to the waist on a moving plank, sometimes above and sometimes under
water, or moored to a block serving as a ferryboat, which the swimming
dogs dragged along, they at last succeeded in crossing the shifting
reverberating ice and regaining the land, owing their life to the
strength and agility of their teams of dogs alone. Thus closed the last
attempt made to reach the districts north of Siberia.
The Arctic calotte[1] was meanwhile being attacked from the other side
with equal energy and yet more perseverance. It will be remembered with
what untiring enthusiasm the famous north-west passage had been sought.
No sooner had the peace of 1815 necessitated the disarmament of
numerous English vessels and set free their officers on half-pay, than
the Admiralty, unwilling to let experienced seamen rust in idleness,
sought for them some employment. It was under these circumstances that
the search for the north-west passage was resumed.
[Footnote 1: The word _calotte_ here used by Verne is untranslateable.
It signifies, literally, a particular kind of cap, frequently a monk's
cap or cowl.--_Trans._]
The _Alexander_, 252 tons, and the _Isabel_, 385, under command of the
experienced officers, John Ross and Lieutenant Parry, with James Ross,
Back, and Belcher, who were to win honour in Arctic explorations
amongst their subordinates, were sent by the Government to explore
Baffin's Bay and set sail on the 18th April. After touching at the
Shetland Islands, and seeking in vain for the submerged land seen by
Bass in N. lat. 57 degrees 28 minutes, the explorers came on the 26th
May to the first ice, and on the 2nd June surveyed the western coast of
Greenland, hitherto very imperfectly laid down in maps, finding it
greatly encumbered by ice. Indeed the governor of the Dutch settlement
of Whale Island told them that the severity of the winter months had
been steadily increasing during the eleven years of his residence in
the country.
Hitherto it had been supposed that the country was uninhabited beyond
75 degrees N. lat., and the travellers were therefore greatly surprised
to see a whole tribe of Esquimaux arrive by way of the ice. They knew
nothing of any race but their own, and stared at the English without
daring to touch them, one of them even addressing to the vessels in a
grave and solemn voice the inquiries, Who are you? Whence do you come?
From the sun or from the moon?
[Illustration: Esquimaux family. (Fac-simile of early engraving.)]
Although in many respects far inferior to the Esquimaux who had become
to some extent civilized by long intercourse with Europeans, the
new-comers understood the use of iron, of which a few of them had even
succeeded in making knives. This iron as far as the English could
gather was dug out of a mountain. It was probably of meteoric origin.
As public opinion in England subsequently confirmed, Ross, in spite of
qualities as a naval officer of the highest order, showed extraordinary
apathy and levity on this voyage, appearing not to trouble himself in
the least about the geographical problems for the solution of which the
expedition was organized. He passed Wolstenholme and Whale Sounds and
Smith's Strait, opening out of Baffin's Bay, without examining them,
the last named at so great a distance that he did not even recognize
it. Still worse than that was his conduct later. Cruising down the
western shores of Baffin's Bay a long deep gulf no less than fifty
miles across gradually came in sight of the eager explorers, yet when
on the 29th August the two vessels had sailed up it for thirty miles
only Ross gave orders to tack about, on the ground that he distinctly
saw at the further end a chain of lofty mountains to which he gave the
name of Croker. His officers did not share his opinion; they could not
see so much as the slightest sign of a hill, for the very excellent
reason that the gulf they had entered was really Lancaster Sound, so
named by Baffin, and connecting his bay with the western Arctic Ocean.
The same sort of thing occurred again and again in the voyage along
this deeply indented coast, the vessels keeping so far off shore that
not a detail could be made out. Thus it came about that Cumberland Bay
was passed on the 1st October without any survey of that most important
feature of Davis Strait, and Ross returned to England, having literally
turned his back on the glory awaiting him.
When accused of apathy and neglect of duty, Ross replied with supreme
indifference, "I trust, as I believe myself, that the objects of the
voyage have been in every important point accomplished; that I have
proved the existence of a bay, from Disco to Cumberland Strait, and set
at rest for ever the question of a north-west passage in this
direction."
It would have been impossible to make a more complete mistake. But
fortunately the failure of this expedition did not in the least
discourage other explorers. Some saw in it a brilliant confirmation of
the venerable Baffin's discovery, others looked upon the innumerable
inlets, with their deep waters and strong currents, as something more
than mere bays. They were straits, and all hope of the discovery of the
north-west passage was not yet lost.
[Illustration: Map of the Arctic Regions. _Engraved by E. Morieu._]
These suggestions so far weighed with the English Admiralty as to lead
to the equipment of two small vessels, the bomb-vessel _Hecla_ and the
brigantine _Griper_, which left the Thames on the 5th May, 1819, under
command of Lieutenant William Parry, whose opinion as to the existence
of the north-west passage had not coincided with that of his chief. The
vessels reached Lancaster Sound without meeting with any special
adventures, and after a delay of seven days amongst the ice which
encumbered the sea for a distance of eighty miles, they entered the
supposed Bay "shut in by a mountain chain" of John Ross, to find not
only that this mountain chain did not exist, but that the bay was a
strait more than 310 fathoms deep, where the influence of the tide
could be felt. The temperature of the water rose some ten degrees, and
in the course of a single day no less than eighty full-grown whales
were seen.
On the 31st July the explorers landed on the shores of Possession Bay,
visited by them the previous year, and found there their own
footprints, a sign of the small quantity of snow and hoar frost which
had fallen during the winter. All hearts beat high when with a
favourable wind and all sails set the two vessels entered Lancaster
Sound.
"It is more easy," says Parry, "to imagine than to describe the almost
breathless anxiety which was now visible in every countenance, while,
as the breeze continued to a fresh gale, we ran quickly up the sound.
The mast-heads were crowded by the officers and men during the whole
afternoon; and an unconcerned observer, if any could have been
unconcerned on such an occasion, would have been amused by the
eagerness with which the various reports from the crow's-nest were
received; all, however, hitherto favourable to our most sanguine
hopes."
The two coasts extended in a parallel line as far as the eye could
reach, that is to say for a distance exceeding fifty miles, and the
height of the waves together with the absence of ice combined to
convince the English that they had reached the open sea by way of the
long sought passage, when an island framed in masses of ice checked
their further progress.
An arm of the sea, however, some twelve leagues wide, opened on the
south, and by it the explorers hoped to find a passage less encumbered
with ice. Strange to say, as they had advanced in a westerly direction
through Lancaster Sound, the vibrations of the pendulum had increased,
whilst now it appeared to have lost all motion, and "we now therefore
witnessed for the first time the curious phenomenon of the directive
power of the needle becoming so weak as to be completely overcome by
the attraction of the ship; so that the needle might now be properly
said to point to the north pole of the ship."
The arm of the sea widened as the vessels advanced in a westerly
direction, and the shores seemed to bend sensibly towards the
south-west, but after making some 120 miles further progress was again
barred by ice. The explorers therefore returned to Barrow's Strait, of
which Lancaster Sound is but the entry, and once more entered the sea,
now free from the ice, by which it had been encumbered a few days
previously.
In W. long. 92 degrees 1 minute 4 seconds was discovered an inlet
called Wellington Channel, about eight leagues wide, entirely free from
ice and apparently not bounded by any land. The existence of these
numerous straits led the explorers to the conclusion that they were in
the midst of a vast archipelago, an opinion daily receiving fresh
confirmation. The dense fogs, however, made navigation difficult, and
the number of little islands and shallows increased whilst the ice
became more compact. Parry, however, was not to be deterred from
pressing on towards the west, and presently his sailors found, on a
large island, to which the name of Bathurst was given, the remains of
some Esquimaux huts and traces of the former presence of reindeer.
Magnetic observations were now taken, pointing to the conclusion that
the magnetic pole had been passed on the north.
Another large island, that of Melville, soon came in sight, and in
spite of the fogs and ice the expedition succeeded in passing W. long.
110 degrees, thus earning the reward of 100_l_. sterling promised by
the English Government. A promontory near Melville Island was named
Cape Munificence, whilst a good harbour close by was called Hecla and
Griper Bay. It was in Winter Harbour at the end of this bay that the
vessels passed the winter. "Dismantled for the most part," says Parry,
"the yards however being laid for walls and roofed in with thick
wadding tilts, they were sheltered from the snow, whilst stoves and
ovens were fixed inside." Hunting was useless, and resulted in nothing
but the frost-biting of the limbs of some of the hunters, as Melville
Island was deserted at the end of October by all animals except wolves
and foxes. To get through the long winter without dying of ennui was no
easy matter, but the officers hit upon the plan of setting up a
theatre, the first representation in which was given on the 6th
November, the day of the disappearance of the sun for three months. A
special piece was given on Christmas day, in which allusion was made to
the situation of the vessels, and a weekly paper was started called the
_North Georgia Gazette and Winter Chronicle_, which with Sabine, as
editor, run into twenty-one numbers, all printed on the return to
Europe of the expedition.
In January scrofula broke out, and with such virulence as to cause
considerable alarm, but the evil was soon checked by skilful treatment
and the daily distribution of mustard and cress, which Parry had
managed to grow in boxes round his stove.
On the 7th February the sun reappeared, and although many months must
elapse before it would be possible to leave Melville Island,
preparations for a start were at once begun. On the 30th April the
thermometer rose to zero, and the sailors taking this low temperature
for summer wanted to leave off their winter clothes. The first
ptarmigan appeared on the 12th May, and on the following day were seen
traces of reindeer and of musk goats on their way to the north; but
what caused the greatest delight and surprise to the crews was the fall
of rain on the 24th May.
"We had been so unaccustomed to see water naturally in a fluid state at
all, and much less to see it fall from the heavens, that such an
occurrence became a matter of considerable curiosity, and I believe
every person on board hastened on deck to witness so interesting as
well as novel a phenomenon."
[Illustration: Rain as a novel phenomenon.]
During the first fortnight in June, Parry, accompanied by some of his
officers, made an excursion to the most northerly part of Melville
Island. On his return, vegetation was everywhere to be seen, the ice
was beginning to melt, and it was evident that a start could soon be
made. The vessels began to move on the 1st August, but the ice had not
yet broken up in the offing, and they got no further than the eastern
extremity of Melville Island, of which the furthest point reached by
Parry was in N. lat. 113 degrees 46 minutes 13 seconds and W. long. 113
degrees 46 minutes 43 seconds. The voyage back was unmarked by any
special incident, and the expedition got back to England towards the
middle of November.
The results of this voyage were numerous and important. Not only had a
vast extent of the Arctic regions been surveyed; but physical and
magnetic observations had been taken, and many new details collected on
their climate and animal and vegetable life. In fact in a single trip
Parry did more than was accomplished in thirty years by all who
followed in his steps.
Satisfied with the important results obtained by him, the Admiralty
appointed Parry to the command in 1821 of the _Hecla_ and the _Fury_,
the latter built on the model of the former. On this new trip the
explorer surveyed with the greatest care the shores of Hudson's Bay and
the coast of the peninsula of Melville, not to be confounded with the
island of the same name. The winter was passed on Winter Island on the
eastern coast of this peninsula, and the same amusements were resorted
to which had succeeded so well on the previous expedition, supplemented
most effectively by the arrival on the 1st February of a party of
Esquimaux from across the ice. Their huts, which had not been
discovered by the English, were built on the beach; and numerous visits
paid to them during the eighteen months passed on Winter Island gave a
better notion than had ever before been obtained of the manners,
customs, character, &c., of this singular people.
The thorough survey of the Straits of Fury and Hecla, separating the
peninsula of Melville from Cockburn Island, involved the passing of a
second winter in the Arctic regions, and though the quarters were now
more comfortable, time dragged heavily, for the officers and men were
dreadfully disappointed at having to turn back just as they had thought
to start for Behring's Strait. On the 12th August the ice broke up, and
Parry wanted to send his men to Europe, and himself complete by land
the exploration of the districts he had discovered, but Captain Lyon
dissuaded him from a plan so desperate. The vessels therefore returned
to England with all hands after an absence of twenty-seven months,
having lost but five men, although two consecutive winters had been
spent in the Arctic regions.
Although the results of the second voyage were not equal to those of
the first, some of them were beyond price. It was now known that the
American coast did not extend beyond the 70 degrees N. lat., and that
the Atlantic was connected with the Arctic Ocean by an immense number
of straits and channels, most of them--the Fury, Hecla, and Fox, for
instance--obstructed with ice brought down by the currents. Whilst the
ice barrier on the south-east of Melville Peninsula appeared permanent,
that at Regent's Inlet was evidently the reverse. It might, therefore,
be possible to penetrate through it to the Polar basin, and it was with
this end in view that the _Fury_ and _Hecla_ were once more equipped,
and placed under the orders of Parry.
This voyage was the least fortunate of any undertaken by this skilful
seaman, not on account of any falling off in his work, but because he
was the victim of unlucky accidents and unfavourable circumstances.
Meeting, for instance, with an unusual quantity of ice in Baffin's Bay,
he had the greatest trouble to reach Prince Regent's inlet. Had he
arrived three weeks earlier he would probably have been able to land on
the American coast, but as it was he was obliged to make immediate
preparations for going into winter-quarters.
It was no very formidable matter to this experienced officer to spend a
winter under the Polar circle. He knew what precautions to take to
preserve the health of his crews, to keep himself well, and what
occupations and amusements would best relieve the tedium of a three
months' night. Races between the officers, masquerades and theatrical
entertainments, with the temperature maintained at 50 degrees
Fahrenheit kept all the men healthy and happy until the thaw, which set
in on the 20th July, 1825, enabled Parry to resume exploring
operations.
He now skirted along the eastern coast of Prince Regent's Inlet, but
the floating ice gathered about the vessels and drove them on shore.
The _Fury_ was so much damaged that though four pumps were constantly
at work she could hardly be kept afloat, and Parry was trying to get
her repaired under shelter of a huge block of ice when a tempest came
on, broke in pieces the extemporary dock and flung the vessel again
upon the shore, where she had to be abandoned. Her crew were received
on the _Hecla_, which, after such an accident as this, was of course
obliged to return to England.
Parry's tempered spirit was not broken even by this last disaster. If
the Arctic Ocean could not be reached from Baffin's Bay, were there not
other routes still to be attempted? The vast tract of ocean between
Greenland and Spitsbergen, for instance, might turn out less dangerous,
freer as it of necessity would be from the huge icebergs which gather
about the Arctic coasts. The earliest expeditions in these latitudes of
which we have any record are those of Scoresby, who long cruised about
them in search of whales. In 1806 he penetrated in E. long. 16 degrees
(reckoning from Paris), beyond Spitzbergen, i.e. to N. lat. 81 degrees
30 minutes, where he saw ice stretching away in the E.N.E., whilst
between that and the S.E. the sea was open for a distance of thirty
miles. There was no land within 100 miles. It seems a matter of regret
that the whaler did not take advantage of the favourable state of the
sea to have advanced yet further north, when he might have made some
important discovery, perhaps even have reached the Pole itself.
Parry now resolved to do what the exigencies of his profession had
rendered impossible to Scoresby, and leaving London on the _Hecla_ on
the 27th March, 1827, he reached Lapland in safety, and having at
Hammerfest embarked dogs, reindeer, and canoes, he proceeded on his way
to Spitzbergen. Port Snweerenburg, where he wished to touch, was still
shut in with ice; and against this barrier the _Hecla_ struggled until
the 24th May, when Parry left her in Hinlopen Strait, and advanced
northwards with Ross, Crozier, a dozen men, and provisions for
seventy-two days in a couple of canoes. After leaving a depot of
provisions at Seven Islands he packed his food and boats on sledges
specially constructed for the occasion, hoping to cross in them the
barrier of solid ice, and to find beyond a navigable if not an entirely
open sea. The ice did not, however, as Parry expected, turn out to form
a homogeneous mass. There were here and there vast gaps to be forded or
steep hills to be climbed, and in four days the explorers only advanced
about eight miles in a northerly direction. On the 2nd July, in a dense
fog, the thermometer marked 1 degree 9' above zero in the shade, and 8
degrees 3' in the sun; and as may be imagined the march across the
broken surface, gaping everywhere with fissures, was terribly arduous,
whilst the difficulties were aggravated by the continual glare from the
snow and ice. In spite, however, of all obstacles the party pressed
bravely on, and on the 20th July found they had got no further than N.
lat. 82 degrees 37 minutes, i.e. only about five miles beyond the point
reached three days previously. Now, as they had undoubtedly made at
least about fourteen miles in the interval, it was evident that the ice
on which they were was being drifted southwards by a strong current.
Parry at first concealed this most discouraging fact from his men; but
it soon became evident to every one that no progress was being made,
but the slight difference between their own speed as they struggled
over the many obstacles in their path and that of the current bearing
the ice-field in the opposite direction. Moreover, the expedition now
came to a place where the half-broken ice was not fit to bear the
weight of the men or of the sledges. It was in fact nothing more than
an immense accumulation of blocks of ice, which, tossed about by the
waves, made a deafening noise as they crashed against each other;
provisions too were running short, the men were discouraged, Ross was
hurt, Parry was suffering from inflammation of the eyes, and the wind
had veered into a contrary direction, driving the explorers southwards.
There was nothing for it but to turn back.
This venturesome trip, throughout which the thermometer had not sunk
beneath 2 degrees 2, might have succeeded had it been undertaken a
little earlier in the season, for then the explorers could have
penetrated beyond 82 degrees 4 minutes. In any case they would
certainly not have had to turn back on account of rain, snow, and damp,
all signs of the summer thaw.
When Parry got back to the _Hecla_, he found that she had been in the
greatest danger. Driven before a violent gale, her chains had been
broken by the ice, and she had been flung upon the beach, and run
aground. When got off, she had been taken to Waygat Strait. All dangers
past, however, the explorers got back safely in the rescued vessel to
the Orkneys, where they landed, and whence they returned to London,
arriving there on the 30th September.
Whilst Parry was seeking a passage to the Pacific, by way of Baffin's
or Hudson's Bay, several expeditions were organized to complete the
discoveries of Mackenzie, and survey the North American coast. These
expeditions were not fraught with any great danger, and the results
might be of the most vital importance alike to geographical and
nautical science. The command of the first was entrusted to Franklin
afterwards so justly celebrated, with whom were associated Dr.
Richardson, George Back, then a midshipman in the royal navy, and two
common seamen.
The explorers arrived on the 30th August at York Factory on the shores
of Hudson's Bay, and having obtained from the fur-hunters all the
information necessary to their success, they started again on the 9th
September, reaching Cumberland House, 690 miles further, on the 22nd
October. The season was now nearly at an end, but Franklin and Back
nevertheless succeeded in penetrating to Fort Chippeway on the western
side of Lake Athabasca, where they proposed making preparations for the
expedition of the ensuing summer. This trip of 857 miles was
accomplished in the depth of winter with the thermometer at between 40
degrees and 50 degrees below zero.
Early in spring, Dr. Richardson joined the rest of the party at Fort
Chippeway, and all started together on the 18th July, 1820, in the hope
of reaching comfortable quarters at the mouth of the Coppermine before
the bad season set in; Franklin and his people did not, however, make
sufficient allowance for the difficulties of the route or for the
obstacles resulting from the severity of the weather, and it took them
till the 20th August to cross the waterfalls, shallows, lakes, rivers,
and portages which impeded their progress. Game too was scarce. At the
first appearance of ice on the ponds the Canadian guides began to
complain; and when flocks of wild geese were seen flying southwards
they refused to go any further. Annoyed as he was at this absence of
good will in the people in his service, Franklin was compelled to give
up his schemes, and when 550 miles from Fort Chippeway, in N. lat. 64
degrees 28 minutes, W. long. 118 degrees 6 minutes, he built on the
banks of Winter River a wooden house, which he called Fort Enterprise.
Here the explorers collected as much food as they could, manufacturing
with reindeer flesh what is known throughout North America as
_pemmican_. At first the number of reindeer seen was considerable; no
less than 2000 were once sighted in a single day, but this was only a
proof that they were migrating to more clement latitudes. The
_pemmican_ prepared from eighty reindeer and the fish obtained in
Winter River both run short before the expedition was able to proceed.
Whole tribes of Indians, on hearing of the arrival of the whites,
collected about the camp, greatly harassing the explorers by their
begging, and soon exhausted the supply of blankets, tobacco, &c., which
had been brought as means of barter.
Disappointed at the non-arrival of reinforcements with provisions,
Franklin sent Back with an escort of Canadians to Fort Chippeway on the
18th October.
"I had the pleasure," says Back, writing after his return, "of meeting
my friends all in good health, after an absence of nearly five months,
during which I travelled 1104 miles in snow-shoes, and had no other
covering at night in the woods than a blanket and deerskin, with the
thermometer frequently at 40 degrees, and once at 57 degrees below
zero, and sometimes passing two or three days without tasting food."
Those who remained at the fort also suffered terribly from cold, the
thermometer sinking three degrees lower than it had done when Parry was
at Melville Island, nine degrees nearer the pole. Not only did the men
suffer from the extreme severity of the cold, but the trees were frozen
to the pith, and axes broke against them without making so much as a
notch.
Two interpreters from Hudson's Bay had accompanied Back to Fort
Enterprise, one of whom had a daughter said to be the loveliest
creature ever seen, and who, though only sixteen, had already been
married twice. One of the English officers took her portrait, to the
terrible distress of her mother, who feared that if the "great chief of
England" saw the inanimate representation he would fall in love with
the original.
On the 14th June the Coppermine River was sufficiently free from ice to
be navigable, and although their provisions were all but exhausted, the
explorers embarked upon it. As it fortunately turned out, however, game
was very plentiful on the green banks of the river, and enough musk
oxen were killed to feed the whole party.
The mouth of the Coppermine was reached on the 18th July, when the
Indians, afraid of meeting their enemies, the Esquimaux, at once
returned to Fort Enterprise, whilst the Canadians scarcely dared to
launch their frail boats on the angry sea. Franklin at last succeeded
in persuading them to run the risk; but he could not get them to go
further than Cape Turn-again in N. lat. 68 degrees 30 minutes, a
promontory at the opening of a deep gulf dotted with islands, to which
the leader of the expedition gave the name of Coronation, in memory of
the accession of George IV.
Franklin had begun to ascend Hood River, when he was stopped by a
cataract 250 feet high, compelling him to make his way overland across
a barren, unknown district, and through snow more than two feet deep.
The fatigue and suffering involved in this return journey can be more
easily imagined than described; suffice it to say that the party
arrived on the 11th October in a state of complete exhaustion--having
eaten nothing for five days--at Fort Enterprise, which they found
utterly deserted. Ill and without food, there seemed to be nothing left
for Franklin to do but to die. The next day, however, he set to work to
look for the Indians, and those of his party who had started before
him, but the snow was so thick he had to return without accomplishing
anything. For the next eighteen days life was supported by a kind of
bouilli made from the bones and the skin of the game killed the
previous year, and at last, on the 29th October, Dr. Richardson arrived
with John Hepburn, only looking thin and worn, and scarcely able to
speak above a whisper. It seemed as if they were doomed! We quote the
following from Desborough Cooley:--
"Dr. Richardson had now a melancholy tale to relate. For the first two
days his party had nothing whatever to eat. On the third day, Michel
arrived with a hare and partridge, which afforded each a small morsel.
Then another day passed without food. On the 11th, Michel offered them
some flesh, which he said was part of a wolf; but they afterwards
became convinced that it was the flesh of one of the unfortunate men
who had left Captain Franklin's party to return to Dr. Richardson.
Michel was daily growing more insolent and shy, and it was strongly
suspected that he had a hidden supply of meat for his own use. On the
20th, while Hepburn was cutting wood near the tent, he heard the report
of a gun, and looking towards the spot saw Michel dart into the tent.
Mr. Hood was found dead; a ball had entered the back part of his head,
and there could be no doubt but that Michel was the murderer. He now
became more mistrustful and outrageous than before; and as his strength
was superior to that of the English who survived, and he was well
armed, they became satisfied that there was no safety for them but in
his death. 'I determined,' says Dr. Richardson, 'as I was thoroughly
convinced of the necessity of such a dreadful act, to take the whole
responsibility upon myself; and, upon Michel coming up, I put an end to
his life by shooting him through the head!'"
Many of the Indians who had accompanied Richardson and Hepburn had died
of hunger, and the two leaders were on the brink of the grave when, on
the 7th November, three Indians, sent by Back, brought them help. As
soon as they felt a little stronger, the two Englishmen made for the
Company's settlement, where they found Back, to whom they had twice
owed their lives on this one expedition.
The results of this journey, in which 5500 miles had been traversed,
were of the greatest importance to geographical, magnetic, and
meteorological science, and the coast of America had been surveyed as
far as Cape Turn-again.
In spite of all the fatigue and suffering so bravely borne, the
explorers were quite ready to make yet another attempt to reach the
shores of the Polar Sea, and at the end of 1823 Franklin received
instructions to survey the coast west of Mackenzie River, all the
agents of the Company being ordered to supply his party with
provisions, boats, guides, and everything else they might require.
After a hearty reception at New York, Franklin went to Albany, by way
of the Hudson, ascended the Niagara from Lewiston to the famous Falls,
made his way thence to Fort St. George on the Ontario, crossed the
lake, landed at York, the capital of Upper Canada (_sic_), passed Lakes
Siamese, Huron, and Superior, where he was joined by twenty-four
Canadians, and on the 29th June, 1825, came to Lake Methye, then alive
with boats.
Whilst Dr. Richardson was surveying the eastern coast of Great Bear
Lake, and Back was superintending the preparations for the winter,
Franklin reached the mouth of the Mackenzie, the navigation of which
was very easy, no obstacles being met with, except in the Delta. The
sea was free from ice, and black and white whales and seals were
playing about at the top of the water. Franklin landed on the small
island of Garry, the position of which he determined as N. lat. 69
degrees 2 minutes, W. long. 135 degrees 41 minutes, a valuable fact,
proving as it did, how much confidence was to be placed in the
observations of Mackenzie.
The return journey was made without difficulty, and on the 5th
September the explorers arrived at the fort to which Dr. Richardson had
given the name of Franklin. The winter was passed in festivities, such
as balls, &c., in which Canadians, English, Scotch, French, Esquimaux,
and Indians of various tribes took part.
On the 22nd June a fresh start was made, and on the 4th July the fort
was reached where the Mackenzie divides into two branches. There the
expedition separated into two parties, one going to the east and the
other to the west, to explore the shores of the Arctic Ocean. Franklin
and his companions had hardly left the river when he met near a large
bay a numerous party of Esquimaux, who at first testified great delight
at the rencontre, but soon became obstreperous, and tried to carry off
the boat. Only by the exercise of wonderful patience and tact were the
English able to avert bloodshed on this emergency.
Franklin now surveyed and gave the name of Clarence to the river
separating the English from the Russian territories, and a little
further on was discovered another stream, which he called the Canning.
On the 16th April, finding he had only made half of the distance
between Mackenzie River and Icy Cape, though the winter was rapidly
approaching, Franklin turned back and embarked on the beautiful Peel
River, which he mistook for that of Mackenzie, not discovering his
error till he came in sight of a chain of mountains on the east. On the
21st September he got back to the fort, after having in the course of
three months traversed 2048 miles, and surveyed 372 miles of the
American coast.
Richardson meanwhile had advanced into much deeper water with far less
floating ice, and had met with a great many Esquimaux of mild and
hospitable manners. He surveyed Liverpool and Franklin Bays, and
discovered opposite the mouth of the Coppermine a tract of land
separated from the continent by a channel not more than twenty miles
wide, to which he gave the name of Wollaston. His boats arrived at
Coronation Gulf, explored on the previous trip, on the 7th August; and
on the 1st September they got back to Fort Franklin, without having
sustained any damage.
In dwelling on Parry's voyages, we have, for the time, turned aside
from those made at the same time by Ross, whose extraordinary
exploration of Baffin's Bay had brought upon him the censure of the
Admiralty, and who was anxious to regain his reputation for skill and
courage. Though the Government had lost confidence in him, he won the
esteem of a rich ship-owner, who did not hesitate to entrust to him the
command of the steamship _Victory_, on which he started for Baffin's
Bay on the 25th May, 1830.
For four years nothing was heard of the courageous navigator, but on
his return, at the end of that time, it turned out that his voyage had
been as rich in discoveries as had been Parry's first trip. Ross,
entering Prince Regent's Inlet, by way of Barrow and Lancaster Sounds,
had revisited the spot where the _Fury_ had been abandoned four years
previously; and continuing his voyage in a southerly direction, he
wintered in Felix Harbour--so named after the equipper of the
expedition--ascertaining whilst there that the lands he had passed
formed a large peninsula attached on the south to the northern coast of
America.
In April, 1830, James Ross, nephew of the leader of the party, set out
in a canoe to examine the shores of this peninsula, and those of King
William's Land; and in November of the same year all had once more to
go into winter-quarters in Sherif Harbour, it being impossible to get
the vessel more than a few miles further north. The cold was intense,
and it was agreed by the sailors of the _Victory_ that this was the
very severest winter ever spent by them in the Arctic regions.
The summer of 1831 was devoted to various surveys, which proved that
there was no connexion between the two seas. All that was accomplished
this season was to bring the _Victory_ as far as Discovery Harbour, a
very little further north than that of Sherif. The ensuing winter was
so intensely severe, that the vessel could not be extricated from her
ice prison, and but for the fortunate discovery of the provisions left
by the _Fury_, the English would have died of hunger. As it was, they
endured daily greater and greater privations and sufferings before the
summer of 1833 at last enabled them finally to leave their
winter-quarters and go by land to Prince Regent's and Barrow Straits.
They had just reached the shores of Baffin's Bay when a vessel
appeared, which turned out to be the _Isabel_, once commanded by Ross
himself, and which now received the refugees from the _Victory_.
But England had not all this time been forgetful of her children, and
had sent an expedition in search of them every year. In 1833 Back,
Franklin's companion, was the leader, and he starting from Fort
Revolution, on the shore of Slave Lake, made his way northwards,
discovered Thloni-Tcho-Deseth River, and settled down in
winter-quarters, with the intention of reaching the next year the Polar
Sea, where he supposed Ross to be held prisoner, when he heard of his
incredible return journey overland. Back, therefore, gave up the next
season to the survey of the fine Fish River, discovered the previous
year, and sighted the Queen Adelaide Mts., with Capes Booth and Ross.
1836 found him at the head of a new expedition, which was to attempt to
connect by sea the discoveries of Ross and Franklin. It failed, and the
accomplishment of the task assigned to it was reserved to Peter
Williams, Dease, and Thomas Simpson, all officers in the service of the
Hudson's Bay Company, who, leaving Fort Chippeway on the 1st June,
1837, went down the Mackenzie, arriving on the sea-coast on the 9th
July, and making their way along it to N. lat. 71 degrees 3 minutes and
W. long. 156 degrees 46 minutes, i.e. to a cape they named Simpson,
after the governor of their company.
Thomas Simpson now made his way overland with five men to Port Barrow,
already sighted in the direction of Behring Strait by one of Beechey's
officers, so that the whole of the North American coast from Cape
Turn-again to Behring's Strait was now complete, and there was nothing
left to do but to explore the space between the former and Point Ogle,
a task accomplished by the explorers in a later expedition.
Leaving the Coppermine in 1838, they followed the eastern coast,
arriving on the 9th August at Cape Turn-again, which was too much
encumbered with ice to be rounded. Thomas Simpson therefore remained
near it for the winter, discovered Victoria Land, and on the 12th
August, 1839, arrived at Back River. The rest of the month he devoted
to the exploration of Boothia.
[Illustration: Discovery of Victoria Land.]
The whole of the coast-line of North America was now accurately laid
down, but at the cost of what struggles, devotion, privations, and
sufferings? What, however, is human life when weighed in the balance
with the progress of science? and with what disinterestedness and
enthusiasm must be embued the savants, sailors, and explorers, who give
up all the joys of existence to contribute to the best of their power
to the progress of knowledge and to the moral and intellectual
development of humanity.
With the voyages last recorded the discovery of the earth was
completed, and with our account of them our work, which began with the
first attempts of the earliest explorers, also closes. The shape of the
earth is now known, the task of explorers, is done. The land on which
man lives is henceforth familiar to him, and he has now only to turn to
account the vast resources of the countries to which access has
recently become easy, or of which he can without difficulty possess
himself.
How rich in lessons of every kind is this history of twenty centuries
of exploration. Let us cast a glance behind us and enumerate the main
features of the progress made in this long series of years. If we take
the map of the world of Hecataeus, who lived 500 years before the
Christian era, what do we see? When it was published the known world
did not extend beyond the basin of the Mediterranean, and the whole,
with a terribly distorted outline, is represented only by a very small
portion of southern Europe, the interior of Asia, and part of North
Africa; whilst encircling them all is a river without beginning or end,
to which is given the name of Ocean.
Side by side with this map, ancient monument as it is of antique
science, let us place a planisphere representing the world as known in
1840, and on this vast surface we shall find the portion known, and
that but imperfectly to Hecataeus, occupying but an infinitesimal
space.
Taking these two typical maps as our starting-point, we shall be able
to judge of the magnitude of the discoveries of modern times. Imagine
for a moment all that is involved in thorough knowledge of the whole
world, and you will marvel at the results achieved by the efforts of so
many explorers and martyrs, you will grasp the importance of their
discoveries and the intimate relations between geography and all the
other sciences. This is the point of view from which can best be seen
all the philosophic bearings of a work to which so many generations
have devoted themselves.
Doubtless the motives actuating these various explorers differ greatly.
First, we have the natural curiosity of the owner anxious to know
thoroughly every part of the domain belonging to him, so that he may
estimate the extent of the habitable districts, and determine the
boundaries of the seas, &c.; and secondly, we have the natural outcome
of a trade, which, though still in its infancy, introduced even in
remote Norway the products of Central Asian industry. In the time of
Herodotus the aim of explorers was loftier: they wished to learn the
history, manners, customs, and religion of foreign races; and later,
the Crusades, which, whatever else they accomplished, certainly
vulgarized oriental studies, inspired some few with a fervent desire to
wrest from infidels the scene of our Lord's Passion, but the greater
number with a lust of pillage and a yearning to explore the unknown.
Columbus, seeking a new route to the Indies, came across America on the
way, and his successors were only anxious to make rapid fortunes,
differing greatly indeed from the noble Portuguese who sacrificed their
private interests to the glory and colonial prosperity of their
country, and were the poorer for the offices conferred on them with a
view to doing them honour.
In the sixteenth century religious persecution and civil war drove to
the New World the Huguenots and Puritans, who, whilst laying for
England the foundations of colonial prosperity, were to bring about a
radical change in America. The next century was essentially one of
colonization. In America the French, in India the English, and in
Oceania the Dutch established counting-houses and offices, whilst
missionaries endeavoured to win over to the Christian faith and modern
ideas the unchangeable "Empire of the Mean."
The eighteenth century, ushering in our own, rectified received errors,
and surveyed minutely alike continents and archipelagoes; in a word
brought to perfection the work of its predecessors. The same task has
occupied modern explorers, who pride themselves on not passing over in
their surveys the smallest corner of the earth, or the tiniest islet.
With a similar enthusiasm are imbued the intrepid navigators who
penetrate the ice-bound solitudes of the two poles, and tear away the
last fragments of the veil which has so long hidden from us the
extremities of the globe.
All then is now known, classed, catalogued, and labelled! Will the
results of so much toil be buried in some carefully laid down atlas, to
be sought only by professional _savants_? No! it is reserved to our
use, and to develope the resources of the globe, conquered for us by
our fathers at the cost of so much danger and fatigue. Our heritage is
too grand to be relinquished. We have at our command all the facilities
of modern science for surveying, clearing, and working our property. No
more lands lying fallow, no more impassable deserts, no more useless
streams, no more unfathomable seas, no more inaccessible mountains!
We suppress the obstacles nature throws in our way. The isthmuses of
Panama and Suez are in our way; we cut through them! The Sahara
interferes with the connexion of Algeria and Senegal; we will throw a
railway across it. The Pas de Calais prevents two nations so well
fitted for cordial friendship from shaking each other by the hand; we
will pierce it with a railway!
This is our task and that of our contemporaries. Is it less grand than
that of our predecessors, that it has not yet succeeded in inspiring
any great writer of fiction? To dwell upon it ourselves would be to
exceed the limits we laid down for our work. We meant to write the
History of the Discovery of the World, and we have written it. Our task
therefore is complete.
FINIS.
LONDON: GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.
End of Project Gutenberg's Celebrated Travels and Travellers, by Jules Verne