LOST AND RESCUED.
THE sun had disappeared, but the moon completed her circuit in the
heavens with great beauty. Her nearest approach to the horizon was
twenty-five degrees. For eight days after the return of the party to the
vessel it shone with almost unclouded brightness, as if to give them a
joyful welcome.
When November came our explorers were well settled in their
winter-quarters. They had made them by judicious ventilation and a
careful distribution of heat tolerably comfortable. Below decks they had
a uniform temperature of sixty-five degrees above zero, and under the
housing of the upper deck it never went below zero, while outside the
thermometer averaged twenty-five degrees minus.
While shut up in the darkness, relieved only by the light from the
sparkling stars and the glowing moon, the daily routine of the ship's'
duties were strictly performed. Each had his assigned work. The
monotonous meals came at the stated hour, and the bell noted the
changing watches. The morning and evening prayers, and the religious
observance of the Sabbath, were pleasant and profitable prompters to
serious thought. These became more and more needed as the inactive
season progressed. The continued darkness without, made dense often by
heavy clouds, wore upon the spirits of the men; besides, their light
within became less cheerful by the failure of the supply of oil. The
lamps refused to burn poor lard, and muddy corks and wads of cotton
floating as tapers in saucers filled with it gave but a lurid light and
emitted an offensive smoke and odor. It would be strange, indeed, if in
this ice-imprisoned company there were no homesick ones, however bravely
the feeling might be suppressed. Hans, the Esquimo, at one time packed
his clothes and shouldered his rifle to bid the brig's company good-bye.
A desperate, lone journey homeward he would have had of it! It was
whispered that in addition to his drawings to his mother there was at
Fiskernes a lady-love. He, however, was persuaded to stay on shipboard,
and Dr. Kane gave him for his sickness a dose of salts and promotion.
They worked well, and he seems to have been very contented afterward.
The usual resort was had to dramatic performances, fancy balls, and the
publication of a paper called the "Ice-blink." A favorite sport was the
"fox-chase," in which each sailor in turn led off as fox in a run round
the upper deck, followed by the rest in chase. Dr. Kane offered a
Guernsey shirt as a prize to the man who held out the longest in the
chase. William Godfrey sustained the chase for fourteen minutes, and
_wore_ off the shirt.
November twenty-seventh the commander sent out a volunteer party under
Bonsall to see if the Esquimo had returned to the huts which had been
seen in the fall. The darkness at noonday was too great for reading, and
the cold was terrible. The party returned after one night's encamping,
the sledge having broken, and the tent and luggage being left behind. A
few days after Morton started alone to recover the lost articles. In two
days and a half he returned bringing every thing. He tramped in that
time, with the cold forty degrees below zero, sixty-two miles, making
only three halts. The darkness during the time was such that a hummock
of ice fifty paces ahead could hardly be seen.
The effect of the darkness on the dogs was very marked, but so long as
there was any sledging for them to do their spirits kept up. One of the
Newfoundlands, named Grim, was a character. He was noted for a profound
appreciation of his dinner, of which he never had enough, for a
disrelish for work, and a remarkable knowledge of the arts of hypocrisy.
His cunning fawning, and the beseeching wink of his eye, procured for
him warm quarters in the deck-house, and a bed on the captain's fur
coat, while his fellows had to be content with their kennel. Though Grim
thus proved his knowledge of the best place at the dog-table, and the
best bits it afforded, as well as the best place to sleep, he never
could understand a call to the sledge-harness. He always happened at
such times to be out of the way. Once, when the dog-team was about to
start, he was found hid in a barrel, and was bid join the party. But
Grim was equal to the occasion. He went limping across the deck, as much
as to say, Would you have a poor lame dog go? The joke was so cute that
he was allowed to remain at home, and after that he became suddenly lame
as soon as a movement toward the sledges was made. Grim thus attained
the usual success of shallow-brained, flattering hypocrisy--many favors
and universal contempt. His end, too, was very befitting his life. His
master, thinking he was becoming too fat in his lazy dignity, commanded
him to join a sledge party. Grown presumptuous by indulgence, he
refused, and showed his teeth, besides pleading lameness. But the order
was peremptory this time, and a rope was put round his body and attached
to the sledge, and he was made to trot after his faithful fellows. At
the first halt he contrived to break the rope, and, carrying a few feet
of it dragging after him, started in the darkness for the ship. Not
having come home when the party returned, search was made for him with
lanterns, as it was thought the rope might have caught and detained him
in the hummock. His tracks were found not far from the vessel, and then
they led away to the shore. Old Grim was never seen again.
Grim could be spared, but the explorers were much alarmed soon after his
death by a strange disease among the whole pack. They were at times
frenzied, and then became stupid. They were taken below, nursed, tended,
and doctored with anxiety and care, for on them much depended. But all
died except six. Their death threw a cloud over the prospect of further
successful exploration.
But a still darker event threatened the explorers. Every man was more or
less touched with the scurvy, except two, and some were prostrate. It
was with great joy, therefore, that, on the twenty-first of January,
1854, they saw the orange-colored tints of the sun faintly tracing the
top of the distant hills. Daylight and game would be important medicines
for the sick. A month later and Dr. Kane made a long walk, and a hard
scramble up a projecting crag of a headland of the bay, and bathed in
his welcome rays. It was about a week later before he was seen from the
deck of the "Advance."
A very busy company now was that on board the brig, making preparations
for spring work. The carpenter was making and mending sledges; the
tinker making and mending cooking apparatus for the journeys; many busy
hands were at work on the furs and blankets for a complete renewed
outfit for wearing and sleeping. But though March had come, the average
cold was greater than at any time before. Still a sledge party was in
readiness to start by the middle of the month, to carry provisions for a
new deposit beyond those made in the fall. The party consisted of eight
men. A new sledge had been made, smaller than the "Faith," and adapted
to the reduced dog-team. To this the load was lashed, a light boat
being, placed on top. The men harnessed in but could hardly start it.
The boat was then removed and two hundred pounds of the load, and thus
relieved away they went, cheered by the hearty "God bless you!" of their
shipmates. Dr. Kane had added to their provisions by the way, as an
expression of good-will, the whole of his brother's "great wedding
cake."
But as they started their ever watchful commander thought he saw more
good-will than ability to draw the load, and a suspicion, too, impressed
him that the new sledge was not all right. So he followed, and found
them in camp only five miles away. He said nothing about any new orders
for the morning, laughed at the rueful faces of some of them, and heard
Petersen's defense of _his_ new sledge as the best which could be made.
He saw them all tucked away in their buffaloes, and returned to the
brig. We have before referred to a sledge called the "Faith." It was
built by Dr. Kane's order, after an English pattern, except that the
runners were made lower and wider. It had been thought too large for the
present party. The doctor now called up all his remaining men. The
"Faith" was put on deck, her runners polished, lashings, a canvas
covering, and track-lines were adjusted to her. By one o'clock that
night the discarded two hundred pounds of provisions and the boat were
lashed on, and away the men went for their sleeping comrades. They were
still sound asleep when the "Faith" arrived. The load of the new boat
was quietly placed upon it, all put in traveling order, and it was
started off on an experimental trip with five men. The success was
perfect. The sleepers were then awakened, and all were delighted at the
easier draught of the heavier load. Dr. Kane and his party returned to
the vessel with the discarded sledge.
Ten days slipped away, and no tidings from the depot party. The work of
clearing up the ship, and putting the finishing touch to the preparation
for the distant northern excursion, which was to crown the efforts of
the expedition, and unlock, it was hoped, at last, some of the secrets
of the North Pole, progressed daily. At midnight of the eleventh day a
sudden tramp was heard on deck, and immediately Sontag, Ohlsen, and
Petersen entered the cabin. Their sudden coming was not so startling as
their woe-begone, bewildered looks. It was with difficulty that they
made their sad tale known. Brooks, Baker, Wilson, and Schubert were all
lying on the ice, disabled, with Irish Tom Hickey, who alone was able to
minister to their wants. The escaped party had come, at the peril of
their own lives, to get aid. They had evidently come a long distance,
but how far, and where they had left the suffering ones, they could not
tell, nor were they in a condition to be questioned.
While the urgent necessities of the new comers were being attended to,
Dr. Kane and others were getting ready the "Little Willie," with a
buffalo cover, a small tent, and a package of prepared meat called
pemmican. Ohlsen seemed to have his senses more than the others, though
he was sinking with exhaustion, having been fifty hours without rest.
Dr. Kane feeling that he _must_ have a guide or fail to find the lost
ones, Ohlsen was put in a fur bag, his legs wrapped up in dog-skins and
eider down, and then he was strapped on the sledge.
Off dashed the rescue party, nine men besides their commander, carrying
only the clothes on their backs. The cold was seventy-eight degrees
below the freezing point.
Guided by icebergs of colossal size, they hurried across the bay, and
traveled sixteen hours with some certainty that they were on the right
track. They then began to lose their way. Ohlsen, utterly exhausted, had
fallen asleep, and when awakened was plainly bewildered. He could tell
nothing about the way, nor the position of the lost ones. He had before
said that it was drifting heavily round them when they were left. The
situation of the rescue party was becoming critical, and the chance of
helping the lost seemed small indeed; they might be anywhere within
forty miles.
Thus situated Dr. Kane moved on ahead, and clambered up some ice-piles
and found himself upon a long, level floe. Thinking the provision party
might have been attracted by this as a place to camp, he determined to
examine it carefully. He gave orders to liberate Ohlsen, now just able
to walk, from his fur bag, and to pitch the tent; then leaving tent,
sledge, and every thing behind, except a small allowance of food taken
by each man, he commanded the men to proceed across the floe at a good
distance from each other. All obeyed cheerfully and promptly, and moved
off at a lively step to keep from freezing; yet somehow, either from a
sense of loneliness, or involuntarily, there was a constant tendency of
the men to huddle together. Exhaustion and cold told fearfully upon
them; the stoutest were seized with trembling fits and short breath, and
Dr. Kane fell twice fainting on the snow. They had now been eighteen
hours out without food or rest, and the darkness of their situation
seemed to have no ray of light, when Hans shouted that he thought he saw
a sledge track. Hardly daring to believe that their senses did not
deceive them, they traced it until footsteps were apparent; following
these with religious care they came after awhile in sight of a small
American flag fluttering from a hummock. Lower down they espied a little
Masonic banner hanging from a tent pole barely above the drift. It was
the camp of the lost ones! It was found after an unfaltering march of
twenty-one hours. The little tent was nearly covered by the drift.
Dr. Kane was the last to come up, and when he reached the tent his men
were standing in solemn silence upon each side of it. With great
kindness and delicacy of feeling they intimated their wish that he
should be the first to go in.
He lifted the canvas and crawled in, and in the darkness felt for the
poor fellows, who were stretched upon their backs. A burst of welcome
within was answered by a joyful shout without. "We expected you," said
one, embracing the doctor; "we _knew_ you would come!" For the moment
all perils, hunger, and exhaustion were forgotten amid the
congratulations and gratitude.
The company now numbered fifteen, the cold was intense, but one half the
number had to keep stirring outside while the rest crowded into the
little tent to sleep. Each took a turn of two hours, and then
preparations were made to start homeward.
They took the tent, furs for the rescued party, and food for fifty
hours, and abandoned every thing else. The tent was folded and laid on
the sledge, a bed was then made of eight buffalo skins, the sick, having
their limbs carefully sewed up in reindeer skins, were then put in a
reclining position on the bed, and other furs and blanket bags thrown
around them. The whole was lashed together, allowing only a breathing
place opposite the mouth. This _embalming_ of the sufferers, and getting
them a good meal, cost four hours of exposure in a cold that had become
fifty-five degrees minus. Most of the rescuers had their fingers nipped
by the frost.
When all was ready the whole company united in a short prayer.
Now commenced the fearful journey. The sledge and its load weighed
eleven hundred pounds. The hummocks were many; some of them were high,
and long deviations round them must be made; some which they climbed
over, lifting the sledge after them, were crossed by narrow chasms
filled with light snow--fearful traps into which if one fell his death
was almost certain. Across these the sledge was drawn, some of them
being too wide for it to bridge them, so it had to be sustained by the
rope, and steadily too, for the sick could not bear to be lashed so
tight as not to be liable to roll off, and the load was top-heavy.
In spite of these obstacles all went bravely for six hours. The
abandoned tent was nine miles ahead, the sledge on which life depended
bravely bore every strain, the new floe was gained, and the traveling
improved, so that good hope was entertained that the tent, its covert
and rest, would be gained. Just then a strange feeling came over nearly
the whole party. Some begged the privilege of sleeping. They were not
cold, they said; they did not mind the wind now; all they wanted was a
little sleep. Others dropped on the snow and refused to get up. One
stood bolt upright, and, with closed eyes, could not be made to speak.
The commander boxed, jeered, argued, and reprimanded his men to no
purpose. A halt was made and the tent pitched. No fire could be
obtained, for nobody's fingers were limber enough to strike fire, so no
food or water could be had.
Leaving the company in charge of M'Gary, with orders to come on after
four hours' rest, Dr. Kane and Godfrey went forward to the tent to get
ready a fire and cooked food. They reached the tent in a strange sort of
stupor. They remembered nothing only that a bear trotted leisurely
ahead of them, stopping once to tear a jumper to pieces which one of the
men had dropped the day before, and pausing to toss the tent
contemptuously aside. They set it up with difficulty, crept into their
fur bags, and slept intensely for three hours. They then arose,
succeeded in lighting the cooking lamp, and had a steaming soup ready
when the rest arrived.
Refreshed with food and rest, the feeble re-adjusted, they commenced the
home stretch. Once the old sleepiness came over them, and they in turn
slept three minutes by the watch and were benefited. They all reached
the brig at one o'clock P.M. All were more or less delirious when they
arrived, and could remember nothing of what had happened on the way,
with slight exception. The rescue party had been out seventy-two hours;
of this time only eight hours were spent in halting. They had traveled
about eighty-five miles, most of the distance dragging their sledge.
Dr. Hayes took the sick in hand. Two lost one or more toes; and two,
Jefferson Baker, a boyhood playfellow of Dr. Kane, and Pierre Schubert,
the French cook, died.