GREENLAND!
After enduring a week of insufficient tides and diabolical attacks on
the part of the mosquitoes, we at last managed to put in place the new
propeller. What a sigh of relief we all gave when the last nut was
screwed on and the little _Bowdoin_ was once more in trim to continue
her voyage. We were at last through with Labrador and Hopedale, and
ready to square away for that land of many myths--Greenland.
Once more we wended our way through Windy Tickle and Jack Lane’s Bay,
where we bade farewell to the Bromfield family. Then with old Sam’s
fervent blessing still ringing in our ears, we swung our bow seaward
while the last rays of the setting sun streamed on ahead as if to guide
our wandering footsteps safe across the treacherous North Atlantic to
Godhavn--the harbor of God’s rest.
For three days we sailed on “through many a fair sea circle” till at
last we drew nigh to Greenland. Each day the sun held longer in the
sky--in fact, after leaving Labrador, we had no real darkness, though
the sun set for a few hours each night. The sea was calm with the
exception of a few turbulent hours off Hudson’s Straits, when the tidal
influence of the bay produced a boisterous chop. The temperature was
not very low, and during the long sunny days it was nearly as warm as
in many a more favored clime.
On and on we sailed, with nothing to break the vast desolation of
the sea, no friendly steamer’s smoke, no glistening sail, not even
an iceberg--only the great smooth mounds of water which rolled
majestically across the surface of the sea to be followed one upon
another in unending sequence, until it seemed that we were “alone on a
wide, wide sea.”
The third day out we began to notice icebergs again. These shining
mountains of ice had traveled in the bosom of the Cape Farewell current
from their glacial birthplace on the east coast of Greenland around
the southernmost point of Greenland and thus far up the west coast,
whence they would swing across Davis Strait and drift down into the
North Atlantic in the Labrador current. In this Greenland current also
we saw several large trees floating along. These, we learned from the
Commander, had drifted across the Polar Sea from Siberia, utilizing
the same current by which Nansen strove to drift over the Pole in the
_Fram_. In a short while we also observed a considerable lightening of
the blue of the sky in the eastern quadrant of the horizon. This was
the “iceblink,” a reliable indication of the proximity of ice, which
produces a whitish reflection in the sky. Since the whole interior of
Greenland is solid ice, there could be no doubt from the direction in
which it appeared that it was the iceblink over the great Greenland
ice-cap. A consultation with the chart further verified our adjacence
to Greenland. In fact, we were not more than sixty miles from the
coast, which would put us about a hundred and fifty miles from the
ice-cap--a distance easily within the range of visibility of the
“blink.” All eyes were straining for the first sight of land, when
slowly the horizon began to dissolve, and a white wall of vapor came
rolling down upon us. Everything became clammy in the dismal drabness
that enveloped us. We should have to maintain unrelaxing vigilance
against the menace of icebergs. Moreover, it would prevent our seeing
the land until the next day at least, unless it speedily cleared away.
All night we kept a careful watch and came through without a mishap,
in spite of the fog’s remaining as thick as burgoo. When the starboard
watch, my watch, came on deck at six o’clock the next morning, the fog
was beginning to burn off and slowly the visibility increased mile by
mile. Suddenly a bit of a breeze ruffled the surface of the sea; the
fog curtain suddenly lifted, as in a theatre, and the whole glorious
panorama of glaciers, mountains, and fiords burst upon our startled
gaze. This coastal scenery on “The Greenland” is as magnificent as
any Alpine scenery. Peaks tower five or six thousand feet sheer from
the depths, with deep blue fiords cleaving their base, and glittering
glaciers suspended from their peaks like diamond pendants.
The Commander soon determined our position as being off the town of
Holsteinborg--a deduction aided by our sighting a peculiarly shaped
mountain peak known as the Kin of Sal. Hence we were not much more than
a hundred miles from Godhavn, which we should therefore reach early the
next day if the Weather Man remained affable.
At five o’clock the next morning I was awakened by the clank of the
anchor chain running through the hawse pipe. In an instant I was on
my feet and in two more I was in my clothes and out on deck, this
feat being made easier as the result of long practice attending
school roll-call. I took a look around. The harbor was spacious with
high cliffs towering on either side, with here and there an iceberg
hard aground. Safe and snug in the lee of one of these bergs lay
the _Peary_, a welcome sight, indeed, to our eyes. In a few minutes
Commander McDonald hove in sight paddling an Eskimo kayak and loudly
assailing us with a running fire of unacademic Eskimo. Shortly he
came aboard and disappeared into the after cabin. Not long afterwards
Commander Byrd and Floyd Bennet appeared in an inflated rubber boat,
the oddest looking craft I ever saw afloat. They were soon alongside
and came aboard to consult with the Commander.
Across from the _Peary_ lay a large Danish collier. She had come
out from Copenhagen to distribute along the coast at the various
settlements the local coal which is mined in Greenland. This coal is
obtained at a town called Umanak, where the _Peary_ was going in a
few hours to bunker up before cutting loose from the last outposts of
civilization.
Across the bay an interesting sight met our eyes. It was an old hulk,
battered and twisted until it little resembled a ship. This we learned
was the historic old _Fox_, the famous exploring vessel of Sir Leopold
McClintock. On board of her he set out in 1857 to discover the fate of
Sir John Franklin and his men, who had disappeared into the Northwest
Passage in 1845. No word of them was ever received until Sir Leopold
solved the mystery.
Meanwhile the British admiralty attempted to discover the fate of
the lost navigators. When three years had elapsed and no news of
the expedition’s whereabouts was received, they despatched Admiral
Sir Edward Belcher with a relief squadron to go to his assistance.
During the following year he searched diligently, but could discover
no traces of the location of the expedition. When the full import of
this disaster which had befallen Sir John and his one hundred and
twenty-eight men in those bleak, ice-ridden waters of the Northwest
Passage was at last realized, the entire civilized world stood aghast.
From all sides poured in proffers of aid, and messages of condolence
and hope deluged Lady Jane Franklin, the brave wife of Sir John. It
was in response to an appeal from Lady Franklin to the President of the
United States that the first American Arctic Expedition was organized.
Henry Grinnell, a rich ship merchant, played an important part in the
organization and financing of this noble philanthropy, and in tribute
to his high ideals, the expedition was named in his honor. Lieutenant
Edward J. DeHaven went as commander, and Elisha Kent Kane as surgeon,
of whom we shall hear much, further on, in connection with the second
Grinnell Expedition.
But all of these expeditions returned unsuccessful. The admiralty lost
interest in the undertaking, and the names of Sir John and his men
were crossed from the navy register, thereby concluding all admiralty
participation and further attempts at rescue. Lady Franklin, however,
was not content to consider her husband as irretrievably lost until
every effort had been made to discover the circumstances of his
disappearance. To this end she self-sacrificingly pledged her personal
fortune to the cause, and in spite of disheartening reverses, she
gamely continued sending forth expedition after expedition. At last
her funds became nearly depleted, and still no success had crowned
her efforts. But she determined to make one final attempt with the
last of her fortune. She therefore enlisted the aid of Sir Leopold
McClintock, “the greatest of Arctic sledge men,” as he was called by
his contemporaries. They determined to purchase the little steam yacht
_Fox_ to transport the expedition. She was the best that could be
obtained for the money, but far from being as large as they desired.
In 1857 the expedition sailed from England for Godhavn. There they made
their final adjustments before squaring away for the treacherous ice of
Melville Bay. They made their way to this bay, and there on the 13th of
August the pack came in solid around them, and they were locked fast
for the year. For six months they remained in the pack and were carried
nearly a thousand miles to the southward before they broke out in the
spring. The vessel was so badly damaged after her experience in the ice
that it seemed imperative to return to England immediately, but Sir
Leopold, remembering Lady Jane’s faith in the expedition, courageously
ordered his battered ship headed northward once again. Once more he
managed to make Godhavn in spite of his crippled condition, and there
with the primitive instruments obtainable he instituted such crude
repairs as were possible.
Once again he headed north, and this time without mishap he made his
way through Melville Bay and to the head of Lancaster Sound, thence
southward to Bellot Strait where they wintered. In rambling about the
shore they came upon a number of bleached skeletons and miscellaneous
camp articles. These upon examination proved to bear the stamp of His
Majesty’s Ships _Erebus_ and _Terror_, Sir John’s ill-fated vessels.
Following up these traces Sir Leopold soon determined that Sir John
and all his men had perished in retreating from their ships, which had
remained fast in the ice until the dwindling store of supplies forced
the expedition to the desperate expedient of attempting a retreat to
the Hudson’s Bay Company posts down Bach’s Great Fish River.
Sir Leopold then returned to Godhavn and after remaining a short while
in that port he sailed away for England. There his great discoveries
satisfied the tired heart of Lady Franklin, and the curiosity of the
British public.
Years later the vessel was sold to the Danish Government and employed
in the Greenland trade. In 1915 she was damaged in the ice and towed
into Godhavn. She was then beached and left to rot out her days in the
ignominious fashion in which we found her.