EXPEDITION COMMANDED BY DR. HAYES
IN 1860−61
The object of Dr. Hayes’ expedition may be given in his own words:—
“The plan of the enterprise first suggested itself to me while acting as
surgeon of the expedition commanded by the late Dr. E. K. Kane, of the
United States Navy. Although its execution did not appear feasible at
the period of my return from that voyage in October 1855, yet I did not
at any time abandon the design. It comprehended an extensive scheme of
discovery. The proposed route was that by Smith Sound. My object was to
complete the survey of the north coasts of Greenland and Grinnell Land,
and to make such explorations as I might find practicable in the
direction of the North Pole.
“My proposed base of operations was Grinnell Land, which I had
discovered on my former voyage, and had personally traced beyond
latitude 80°, far enough to satisfy me that it was available for my
design.
“Accepting the deductions of many learned physicists that the sea about
the North Pole cannot be frozen, that an open area of varying extent
must be found within the Ice-belt which is known to invest it, I desired
to add to the proofs which had already been accumulated by the early
Dutch and English voyagers, and, more recently, by the researches of
Scoresby, Wrangel, and Parry, and still later by Dr. Kane’s expedition.
“It is well known that the great difficulty which has been encountered,
in the various attempts that have been made to solve this important
physical problem, has been the inability of the explorer to penetrate
the Ice-belt with his ship, or to travel over it with sledges
sufficiently far to obtain indisputable proof. My former experience led
me to the conclusion that the chances of success were greater by Smith
Sound than by any other route, and my hopes of success were based upon
the expectation which I entertained of being able to push a vessel into
the Ice-belt, to about the 80th parallel of latitude, and thence to
transport a boat over the ice to the open sea which I hoped to find
beyond. Reaching this open sea, if such fortune awaited me, I proposed
to launch my boat and to push off northward. For the ice-transportation
I expected to rely, mainly, upon the dog of the Esquimaux.”
Dr. Hayes had a strong belief in the existence of an open Polar Sea, but
it may here be mentioned that subsequent exploration proved that his
views were not correct. On the other hand, the view of the old
geographers that for a long distance around the Pole the sea was covered
with immovable ice has also been disproved. Throughout the whole year
the ice is found to be more or less in motion, except where it is in
contact with the land.
Dr. Hayes expected to be able to start with two vessels,—one a small
steamer, to be taken out under sails, and the steam-power only to be
used when actually among the ice; the other a sailing vessel, to be
employed as a tender or store-ship. He found, however, that the fund
which he had raised with great difficulty would only enable him to fit
out and man one small sailing vessel.
A fore-and-aft schooner of 133 tons register, named _Spring Hill_, was
purchased, and after some necessary alterations, was rechristened
_United States_.
August Sonntag, the astronomer of Kane’s expedition, early volunteered
to accompany Hayes. On his return to the United States he was appointed
to the Dudley Observatory, Albany, and to accompany Dr. Hayes he
sacrificed the fine position of Associate Director of that institution.
Including Dr. Hayes, the party numbered fifteen persons. They left
Boston on 7th July 1860, and after a rough passage crossed the Arctic
Circle on 30th July. The first iceberg was met on the previous day. Some
rough weather was experienced in Davis’ Strait, and is thus described by
Hayes:—
“We were running before the wind and fighting a wretched cross-sea under
reefed fore and mainsail and jib, when the fore fife-rail was carried
away;—down came everything to the deck, and there was left not a stitch
of canvas on the schooner but the lumbering mainsail. It was a miracle
that we did not broach to and go to the bottom. Nothing saved us but a
steady hand at the helm.
“Notwithstanding all this knocking about, everybody seemed to take it
for granted that this sort of thing is very natural and proper, and a
part of the engagement for the cruise. It is at least gratifying to see
that they take kindly to discomfort, and receive every freak of fortune
with manly good-nature. I really believe that were affairs otherwise
ordered they would be sadly disappointed. They are ‘the small band of
brave and spirited men’ they read about in the newspapers, and they mean
to show it. The sailors are sometimes literally drowned out of the
forecastle. The cabin is flooded at least a dozen times a day. The
skylight has been knocked to pieces by the head of a sea, and the table,
standing directly under it, has been more than once cleared of crockery
and eatables without the aid of the steward. My own cabin gets washed
out at irregular intervals, and my books are half of them spoiled by
tumbling from their shelves in spite of all I can do to the contrary.
Once I caught the whole library tacking about the deck after an
unusually ambitious dive of the schooner, and the advent of a more than
ordinarily heavy rush of water through the ‘companion-way.’”
Land was first sighted on the 31st July, and proved to be the southern
extremity of Disco Island. Owing to a calm, Proven was not reached till
6th August. The entry into the harbour is thus described by Dr. Hayes:—
“We were escorted into the harbour of Proven by the strangest fleet of
boats and the strangest-looking boatmen that ever convoyed a ship. They
were the far-famed Kayakers of Greenland, and they deserve a passing
notice.
“The Kayak of the Greenlander is the frailest specimen of marine
architecture that ever carried human freight. It is 18 feet long and as
many inches wide at its middle, and tapers, with an upward curving line,
to a point at either end. The skeleton of the boat is made of light
wood; the covering is of tanned seal-skin, sewed together by the native
women with sinew thread, and with a strength and dexterity quite
astonishing. Not a drop of water finds its way through their seams, and
the skin itself is perfectly waterproof. The boat is about 9 inches
deep, and the top is covered like the bottom. There is no opening into
it except a round hole in the centre, which admits the hunter as far as
his hips. This hole is surrounded with a wooden rim, over which the
Kayaker laces the lower edge of his water-tight jacket, and thus fastens
himself in and keeps the water out. He propels himself with a single oar
about 6 feet long, which terminates in a blade or paddle at either end.
This instrument of locomotion is grasped in the centre, and is dipped in
the water alternately to right and left. The boat is graceful as a duck
and light as a feather. It has no ballast and no keel, and it rides
almost on the surface of the water. It is therefore necessarily
top-heavy. Long practice is required to manage it, and no tight-rope
dancer ever needed more steady nerve and skill of balance than this same
savage Kayaker. Yet, in this frail craft, he does not hesitate to ride
seas which would swamp an ordinary boat, or to break through surf which
may sweep completely over him. But he is used to hard battles, and, in
spite of every fortune, he keeps himself upright.”
Hayes expected to obtain a supply of dogs at Proven, but he found that a
disease which had prevailed among the teams during the previous year had
diminished the stock to less than half of what was required by the
people themselves, and he had to be satisfied with a few dogs of
inferior quality. The Danish officials, however, rendered Hayes all the
assistance in their power, and gave him hope of being more successful at
Upernavik, for which settlement he left on 12th August.
During the night, before reaching Upernavik, the carpenter of the
expedition, Gibson Caruthers, died suddenly. Besides Mr. Sonntag and Dr.
Hayes, he was the only member of the party who had been in the Arctic
seas, having served in the First Grinnell Expedition in search of
Franklin. He was buried at Upernavik.
Having obtained about two dozen dogs, and a supply of reindeer, seal,
and dog-skins, Upernavik was left after four days’ delay. Three
Esquimaux, an interpreter, and two Danish sailors were engaged at
Upernavik. At Tessuissak, a place about 60 miles from Upernavik, a team
of dogs, the property of the interpreter, was obtained.
When Melville Bay was reached, Hayes was delighted to find open water
with only an iceberg here and there. This was crossed in the short space
of fifty-five hours. Near the northern part of the bay a loose pack
about 15 miles wide was encountered, but under a full pressure of
canvas, little difficulty was experienced in “boring” it.
Standing close in under Cape York, Hayes kept a careful look-out for
natives. He wished if possible to ascertain whether Hans of the Kane
expedition was there. In this he was successful. Hayes writes:—
“Six years’ experience among the wild men of this barren coast had
brought him to their level of filthy ugliness. His companions were his
wife, who carried her first-born in a hood upon her back; her brother, a
bright-eyed boy of twelve years, and ‘an ancient dame with voluble and
flippant tongue,’ her mother. They were all dressed in skins, and, being
the first Esquimaux we had seen whose habits remained wholly
uninfluenced by contact with civilisation, they were, naturally, objects
of much interest to us all.
“Hans led us up the hillside, over rough rocks and through deep
snow-drifts, to his tent. It was pitched about 200 feet above the level
of the sea, in a most inconvenient position for a hunter; but it was his
‘look-out.’ Wearily he had watched, year after year, for the hoped-for
vessel; but summer after summer passed and the vessel came not, and he
still sighed for his southern home and the friends of his youth.
“His tent was a sorry habitation. It was made after the
Esquimaux-fashion, of seal-skins, and was barely large enough to hold
the little family who were grouped about us.
“I asked Hans if he would go with us.
“‘Yes!’
“Would he take his wife and baby?
“‘Yes!’
“Would he go without them?
“‘Yes!’
“Having no leisure to examine critically into the state of his mind, and
having an impression that the permanent separation of husband and wife
is regarded as a painful event, I gave the Esquimaux mother the benefit
of this conventional suspicion, and brought them both aboard, with their
baby and their tent and all their household goods. The old woman and
bright-eyed boy cried to be taken along; but I had no further room, and
we had to leave them to the care of the remainder of the tribe, who,
about twenty in number, had discovered the vessel, and came shouting
gleefully over the hill. After distributing to them some useful
presents, we pushed off for the schooner.
“Hans was the only unconcerned person in the party. I subsequently
thought that he would have been quite as well pleased had I left his
wife and child to the protection of their savage kin; and had I known
him as well then as, with good reason, I knew him afterwards, I would
not have gone out of my way to disturb his barbarous existence.”
Cape Alexander, at the entrance to Smith Sound, was reached without any
special difficulty. Standing over towards Cape Isabella on the opposite
side of the sound, there seemed a good prospect of being able to reach
it, but soon a heavy pack was met with, and a furious gale coming on
compelled Hayes to run back to the coast for shelter. On the 31st
August, during this gale, the schooner dragged its anchors. What
followed is thus described by Hayes: “McCormick managed to save the
bower, but the kedge was lost. It caught a rock at a critical moment,
and, the hawser parting, we were driven upon the bergs, which, as before
stated, had grounded astern of us. The collision was a perfect crash.
The stern boat flew into splinters, the bulwarks over the
starboard-quarter were stove in, and, the schooner’s head swinging round
with great violence, the jib-boom was carried away, and the bowsprit and
foretopmast were both sprung. In this crippled condition we at length
escaped most miraculously, and under bare poles scudded before the wind.
A vast number of icebergs and the ‘pack’ coming in view, we were forced
to make sail. The mainsail went to pieces as soon as it was set, and we
were once more in great jeopardy; but fortunately the storm abated, and
we have since been threshing to windward, and are once more within Smith
Sound.”
Hayes again attempted to reach Cape Isabella, but the pack was again
met. He then attempted to pass up the Greenland coast so as to try to
cross farther north. However, another gale set in, and he was forced to
take shelter behind Cape Alexander. When the gale subsided he again
entered the sound, but was soon beset in the ice, and the schooner was
seriously damaged. Even after this, another attempt was made to pass up
the coast, but it ended in failure, and Hayes was forced to put into
Hartstene Bay for the winter. The harbour was named Port Foulke, in
honour of William Parker Foulke, of Philadelphia, who was one of the
earliest, and continued to be throughout one of the most constant
advocates of the expedition. Port Foulke is situated about 8 nautical
miles in a north-easterly direction from Cape Alexander. An abundance of
game was found in the neighbourhood, and consisted of deer, hares,
foxes, and birds.
During October, Hayes made a journey inland, ascending a glacier, named
by Kane after his brother John, with five men, and taking with him a
sledge loaded with eight days’ provisions, a small canvas tent, two
buffalo-skins for bedding, and a cooking-lamp. The party reached a point
70 miles from the coast, at an elevation of 5000 feet. Hayes describes
it as a vast frozen Sahara, immeasurable to the human eye. He goes on to
compare the river systems of the Temperate and Equatorial Zones with the
glacier systems of the Arctic and Antarctic, and draws a delightful
picture of the great law of Circulation and Change:—
“The dewdrop, distilled upon the tropic palm-leaf, falling to the earth,
has reappeared in the gurgling spring of the primeval forest, has flown
with the rivulet to the river, and with the river to the ocean; has then
vanished into the air, and, wafted northward by the unseen wind, has
fallen as a downy snowflake upon the lofty mountain, where, penetrated
by a solar ray, it has become again a little globule of water, and the
chilly wind, following the sun, has converted this globule into a
crystal; and the crystal takes up its wandering course again, seeking
the ocean.
“But where its movement was once rapid, it is now slow; where it then
flowed with the river miles in an hour, it will now flow with the
glacier not more in centuries; and where it once entered calmly into the
sea, it will now join the world of waters in the midst of a violent
convulsion.
“We have thus seen that the iceberg is the discharge of the Arctic
river, that the Arctic river is the glacier, and that the glacier is the
accumulation of the frozen vapours of the air. We have watched this
river, moving on its slow and steady course from the distant hills,
until at length it has reached the sea; and we have seen the sea tear
from the slothful stream a monstrous fragment, and take back to itself
its own again. Freed from the shackles which it has borne in silence
through unnumbered centuries, this new-born child of the ocean rushes
with a wild bound into the arms of the parent water, where it is
caressed by the surf and nursed into life again; and the crystal drops
receive their long-lost freedom, and fly away on the laughing waves to
catch once more the sunbeam, and to run again their course through the
long cycle of the ages.
“And this iceberg has more significance than the great flood which the
glacier’s southern sister, the broad Amazon, pours into the ocean from
the slopes of the Andes and the mountains of Brazil. Solemn, stately,
and erect, in tempest and in calm, it rides the deep. The restless waves
resound through its broken archways and thunder against its adamantean
walls. Clouds, impenetrable as those which shielded the graceful form of
Arethusa, clothe it in the morning; under the bright blaze of the
noonday sun it is armoured in glittering silver; it robes itself in the
gorgeous colours of evening; and in the silent night the heavenly orbs
are mirrored in its glassy surface. Drifting snows whirl over it in the
winter, and the sea-gulls swarm round it in the summer. The last rays of
departing day linger upon its lofty spires; and when the long darkness
is past it catches the first gleam of the returning light, and its
gilded dome heralds the coming morn. The elements combine to render
tribute to its matchless beauty. Its loud voice is wafted to the shore,
and the earth rolls it from crag to crag among the echoing hills. The
sun steals through the veil of radiant fountains which flutter over it
in the summer winds, and the rainbow on its pallid cheek betrays the
warm kiss. The air crowns it with wreaths of soft vapour, and the waters
around it take the hues of the emerald and the sapphire. In fulfilment
of its destiny it moves steadily onward in its blue pathway through the
varying seasons and under the changeful skies. Slowly, as in ages long
gone by it arose from the broad waters, so does it sink back into them.
It is indeed a noble symbol of the Law,—a monument of Time’s slow
changes, more ancient than the Egyptian Pyramids or the obelisk of
Heliopolis. Its crystals were dewdrops and snowflakes long before the
human race was born in Eden.”
By the 28th October, 74 reindeer, 21 foxes, 12 hares, 1 seal, 14 eider
ducks, 8 dovekies, 6 auks, and 1 ptarmigan had been shot and brought on
board. In addition to these, some 20 to 30 reindeer had been cached in
various places. Hayes naturally came to the conclusion that men might
live indefinitely at Port Foulke without being troubled with scurvy.
On the 19th November, one of the Esquimaux, Peter, disappeared. For some
time Hayes had observed a rivalry between Hans and Peter, and he took
the side of the latter. Hans was jealous of every act of favour towards
Peter, and Hayes was inclined to believe that Hans had been the means of
frightening Peter and of making him run off. No news was received as to
his whereabouts until months afterwards, when some Esquimaux found his
dead body in a hut a long distance from the ship.
Early in December a serious disease attacked the dogs, similar to what
Kane had to deal with. Hayes had at this time thirty-six, and the first
attacked by the disease was shot. However, seven died within four days,
and during the first two weeks of December eighteen died. At the end of
the following week only nine dogs were left. This was a serious blow to
Hayes, as he relied chiefly on the dogs for transport across the ice. It
was now necessary to devise means for remedying the loss, or to arrange
new plans in conformity with the changed circumstances. The first
expedient which suggested itself was to open communication with the
Esquimaux of Whale Sound, from whom some animals might be obtained. From
Hans it was learned that there was a family living on Northumberland
Island, several families on the south side of Whale Sound, and possibly
one or more on the north side. Northumberland Island was about 100 miles
distant, and the south side of the Sound about 150. It was decided that
if a sufficient number of dogs remained alive when the moon came in
December, Sonntag should make the journey at that period, taking a
single sledge, and Hans for a driver. They set out on the 21st December,
and nothing was heard of them until the 29th January, when two Esquimaux
arrived with the news that Sonntag had died. Hans appeared two days
afterwards, and told his story:—
“The travellers rounded Cape Alexander without difficulty, finding the
ice solid; and they did not halt until they had reached Sutherland
Island, where they built a snow-hut and rested for a few hours.
Continuing thence down the coast, they sought the Esquimaux at Sorfalik
without success. The native hut at that place being in ruins, they made
for their shelter another house of snow; and after being well rested,
they set out directly for Northumberland Island, having concluded that
it was useless to seek longer for natives on the north side of the
sound. They had proceeded on their course about 4 or 5 miles, as nearly
as I can judge from Hans’s description, when Sonntag, growing a little
chilled, sprang off the sledge and ran ahead of the dogs to warm himself
with the exercise. The tangling of a trace obliging Hans to halt the
team for a few minutes, he fell some distance behind, and was hurrying
on to catch up, when he suddenly observed Sonntag sinking. He had come
upon the thin ice, covering a recently open tide-crack, and, probably
not observing his footing, he slipped upon it unawares. Hans hastened to
his rescue, aided him out of the water, and then turned back for the
shelter which they had recently abandoned. A light wind was blowing at
the time from the north-east, and this, according to Hans, caused
Sonntag to seek the hut without stopping to change his wet clothing. At
first he ran beside the sledge, and thus guarded against danger; but
after a while he rode, and when they halted at Sorfalik, Hans discovered
that his companion was stiff and speechless. Assisting him into the hut
with all possible dispatch, Hans states that he removed the wet and
frozen clothing, and placed Sonntag in the sleeping-bag. He next gave
him some brandy which he found in a flask on the sledge; and, having
tightly closed the hut, he lighted the alcohol-lamp, for the double
purpose of elevating the temperature and making some coffee; but all his
efforts were unavailing, and, after remaining for nearly a day
unconscious, Sonntag died. He did not speak after reaching the hut, and
left no message of any kind.”
Hayes was not altogether satisfied with the explanation given by Hans.
He wrote; “Although I have no good reason for doubting the truth of his
narrative, yet I cannot quite reconcile my mind to the fact that
Sonntag, with so much experience to govern him, should have undertaken
to travel 5 miles in wet clothing, especially as he was accompanied by a
native hunter who was familiar with all of the expedients for safety
upon the ice-fields, and to whom falling in the water is no unusual
circumstance. The sledge and the canvas apron which enclosed the cargo
furnished the means for constructing a temporary shelter from the wind,
and the sleeping-bag would have insured against freezing while Hans got
ready the dry clothing, of which Sonntag carried a complete change. Nor
can I understand how he should have lived so long and have given Hans no
message for me, nor have spoken a word after coming out of the water,
further than to have ordered his driver to hasten back to the snow-hut.
However, it is idle to speculate about the matter; and since Hans’s
interests were concerned in proving faithful to the officer who, of all
those in the ship, cared most for him, it would be unreasonable as well
as unjust to suspect him of desertion.”
Towards spring, Hayes had the body of Sonntag brought to Port Foulke and
buried. “And here,” writes Hayes, “in the drear solitude of the Arctic
desert, our comrade sleeps the sleep that knows no waking in this
troubled world,—where no loving hands can ever come to strew his grave
with flowers, nor eyes grow dim with sorrowing; but the gentle stars,
which in life he loved so well, will keep over him eternal vigil, and
the winds will wail over him, and Nature, his mistress, will drop upon
his tomb her frozen tears for evermore.”
When Hans returned from his visit to the Esquimaux, he brought with him
his wife’s father and mother. Hayes gives the following description of
them:—
“The personal appearance of this interesting couple was not peculiarly
attractive. Their faces were broad, jaws heavy, cheek-bones projecting
like other carnivorous animals, foreheads narrow, eyes small and very
black, noses flat, lips long and thin, and when opened, there were
disclosed two narrow, white, well-preserved rows of polished
ivory,—well worn, however, with long use and hard service, for the
teeth of the Esquimaux serve a great variety of purposes, such as
softening skins, pulling and tightening cords, besides masticating food,
which I may here mention is wholly animal. Their hair was jet black,
though not abundant, and the man had the largest growth of beard which I
have seen upon an Esquimaux face, but it was confined to the upper lip
and the tip of the chin. The face of the Esquimaux is indeed quite
Mongolian in its type, and is usually beardless. In stature they are
short, though well built, and bear, in every movement, evidence of
strength and endurance.
“The dress of the male and female differed but little one from the
other. It consisted of nine pieces—a pair of boots, stockings, mittens,
pantaloons, an under-dress, and a coat. The man wore boots of bear-skin,
reaching to the top of the calf, where they met the pantaloons, which
were composed of the same materials. The boots of the woman reached
nearly to the middle of the thigh, and were made of tanned seal-skins.
Her pantaloons, like her husband’s, were of bear-skin. The stockings
were of dog-skin, and the mittens of seal-skin. The under-dress was made
of bird-skins, feathers turned inwards; and the coat, which did not open
in front, but was drawn on over the head like a shirt, was of blue
fox-skins. This coat terminates in a hood which envelops the head as
completely as an Albanian capote or a monk’s cowl. This hood gives the
chief distinction to the dresses of the sexes. In the costume of the man
it is round, closely fitting the scalp, while in the woman it is pointed
at the top to receive the hair which is gathered up on the crown of the
head, and tied into a hard, horn-like tuft with a piece of raw
seal-hide,—a style of coiffure which, whatever may be its other
advantages, cannot be regarded as peculiarly picturesque.
“Their ages could not be determined; for, since the Esquimaux cannot
enumerate beyond their ten fingers, it is quite impossible for them to
refer to a past event by any process of notation. Having no written
language whatever, not even the picture-writing and hieroglyphics of the
rudest Indian tribes of North America, the race possesses no records,
and such traditions as may come down from generation to generation are
not fixed by any means which will furnish even an approximate estimate
of their periods of growth, prosperity, and decay, or even of their own
ages.”
Towards the end of February three other Esquimaux appeared from the
south, and from them Hayes obtained some dogs.
About the middle of March, Hayes made a preliminary journey in order to
explore the track for his extended journey to the north, and cached some
provisions at Cairn Point. He visited Rensselaer Harbour, where the
_Advance_ had been left, but no vestige of the ship remained, except a
small bit of a deck-plank which Hayes picked up near the site of the old
observatory.
The long sledge-journey began on the 3rd of April 1861. A quantity of
provisions had previously been taken to Cairn Point, which Hayes had
decided to make the starting-place for crossing the Sound. On one sledge
was mounted a 20-foot metallic lifeboat with which Hayes hoped to
navigate the Polar Sea. When Cairn Point was reached, Hayes decided to
leave the boat there, as he saw that it was impossible to take the boat
and cargo across the Sound in one journey. A storm delayed the party
several days at Cairn Point, and soon after encountering the
ice-hummocks, Hayes wrote:—
“I need hardly say that I soon gave up all thought of trying to get the
boat across the Sound. A hundred men could not have accomplished the
task. My only purpose now was to get to the coast of Grinnell Land with
as large a stock of provisions as possible, and to retain the men as
long as they could be of use; but it soon became a question whether the
men themselves could carry over their own provisions independent of the
surplus which I should require in order that the severe labour should
result to advantage. In spite, however, of everything, the men kept
steadfastly to their duty, through sunshine and through storm, through
cold, and danger, and fatigue.”
Hayes tried to make for Cape Sabine, but found the hummocks quite
impassable, and he had to bear more to the northward. On the 25th of
April he reported: “My party are in a very sorry condition. One of the
men has sprained his back from lifting; another has a sprained ankle;
another has gastritis; another a frosted toe; and all are thoroughly
overwhelmed with fatigue.”
On the 27th April he determined to send back the men, with the exception
of Knorr, Jensen, and McDonald. Only about half of the Sound had been
crossed, but Hayes decided to struggle on. Jensen became partially
snow-blind, and on the 3rd of May, when stumbling along, his leg
received a severe wrench in a crack in the ice. The land, at Cape Hawks,
was not reached until the 11th of May. Thirty-one days had been occupied
in crossing the Sound. Hayes writes:—
“The journey across the Sound from Cairn Point was unexampled in Arctic
travelling. The distance from land to land, as the crow flies, did not
exceed 80 miles; and yet, as hitherto observed, the journey consumed
thirty-one days—but little more than 2 miles daily. The track, however,
which we were forced to choose, was often at least three times that of a
straight line; and since almost every mile of that tortuous route was
travelled over three and five times, in bringing up the separate
portions of our cargo, our actual distance did not probably average less
than 16 miles daily, or about 500 miles in all, between Cairn Point and
Cape Hawks. The last 40 miles, made with dog-sledges alone, occupied
fourteen days—a circumstance which will of itself exhibit the difficult
nature of the undertaking, especially when it is borne in mind that 40
miles to an ordinary team of dogs, over usually fair ice, is a trifling
matter for five hours, and would not fatigue the team half so much as a
single hour’s pulling of the same load over such hummocks as confronted
us throughout this entire journey.
“In order to obtain the best results which the Esquimaux dog is capable
of yielding, it is essential that he shall be able to trot away with his
load. To walk at a dead drag is as distressing to his spirits and
energies as the hauling of a dray would be to a blooded horse; and he
will much more readily run away with a 100 pounds over good ice than to
pull one-fourth of that weight over a track which admits only of a slow
pace.”
The failure to get the boat, or even a foot-party, over the Sound
disarranged Hayes’ original plans. Of the 800 lb. of dog-food which he
had when he sent back the men, only about 300 lb. remained. Small dépôts
had, however, been made for the return journey. The most that Hayes now
hoped to do was to explore the route to the shores of the Polar Sea, as
a basis for further exploration to follow the event of his reaching the
west side of Smith Sound with his vessel late in the summer.
The first day’s march from Cape Hawks carried the party across the wide
bay to Cape Napoleon, and they were pleased to find that the whole load
could be carried at one time, although the travelling was far from good.
Deep snow was met, and in wading through it Jensen’s leg gave way, and
he had to be carried on the sledge. From Cape Napoleon to Cape Frazer
the travelling was good, and camp was made near the farthest point
reached by Hayes in 1854. The little flag-staff, which Hayes had
planted, was discovered, still standing erect among the rocks; but not a
vestige of the flag remained. The winds had whipped it entirely away.
On the 16th of May, Jensen’s injured leg was so painful that Hayes
decided to leave him behind in charge of McDonald.
From Cape Frazer northward the description given by Hayes of his route
is extremely meagre and vague. He states that when Jensen was left
behind he was about 60 miles to the northward and westward of Cape
Constitution, reached by Morton. About two days after leaving Jensen,
Hayes reached the southern cape of a bay which was so deep that, as in
other cases of like obstruction, he determined to cross over it rather
than to follow the shore-line. He writes: “We had gone only a few miles
when we found our progress suddenly arrested. Our course was made
directly for a conspicuous headland bounding the bay to the northward,
over a strip of old ice lining the shore. This headland seemed to be
about 20 miles from us, or near latitude 82°, and I was very desirous of
reaching it; but, unhappily, the old ice came suddenly to an end, and
after scrambling over the fringe of hummocks which margined it, we found
ourselves upon ice of the late winter. The unerring instinct of the dogs
warned us of approaching danger. They were observed for some time to be
moving with unusual caution, and finally they scattered to right and
left, and refused to proceed farther. This behaviour of the dogs was too
familiar to me to leave any doubt as to its meaning; and moving forward
in advance, I quickly perceived that the ice was rotten and unsafe.
Thinking that this might be merely a local circumstance, resulting from
some peculiarity of the current, we doubled back upon the old floe and
made another trial farther to the eastward. Walking now in advance of
the dogs, they were inspired with greater courage. I had not proceeded
far when I found the ice again giving way under the staff with which I
sounded its strength, and again we turned back and sought a more eastern
passage.
“Two hours consumed in efforts of this kind, during which we had worked
about 4 miles out to sea, convinced me that the ice outside the bay was
wholly impassable.”
An attempt to cross farther up the bay also proved a failure, and by
walking a few miles along the shore Hayes believed he saw the head of
the bay about 20 miles distant. Next day he climbed to the top of a
cliff supposed to be about 800 feet above the level of the sea.
“The view which I had from this elevation furnished a solution of the
cause of my progress being arrested on the previous day.
“The ice was everywhere in the same condition as in the mouth of the
bay, across which I had endeavoured to pass. A broad crack, starting
from the middle of the bay, stretched over the sea, and uniting with
other cracks as it meandered to the eastward, it expanded as the delta
of some mighty river discharging into the ocean, and under a water-sky,
which hung upon the northern and eastern horizon, it was lost in the
open sea.
“Standing against the dark sky at the north, there was seen in dim
outline the white sloping summit of a noble headland—the most northern
known land upon the globe. I judged it to be in latitude 82° 30′, or 450
miles from the North Pole. Nearer, another bold cape stood forth; and
nearer still the headland, for which I had been steering my course the
day before, rose majestically from the sea, as if pushing up into the
very skies a lofty mountain peak, upon which the winter had dropped its
diadem of snows. There was no land visible except the coast upon which I
stood.”
The large bay which Hayes here refers to was named Lady Franklin Bay.
The place from which his observations were made, Hayes gives as in
latitude 81° 35′, longitude 70° 30′ W. Finding his way to the north
impassable, he decided to return. Hayes at this point came to the
conclusion that he was near the shores of the Polar Basin, and that
Kennedy Channel expanded into it. After building a cairn and leaving a
record in a small glass vial, he started on his return journey.
A storm came on soon after Hayes and his companion set out. They at
first tried to shelter in the lee of a huge ice-cliff, but as they had
now given the dogs the last of their food, they decided to face the
snowstorm and make for the camp where Jensen had been left. This was
reached in twenty-two hours under great difficulties. Hayes and Knorr
had fasted thirty-four hours, and were completely exhausted. On the
return journey to the ship they had to depend entirely on the small
caches which had been left on the outward journey. Fortunately, all of
these, with one exception, were undisturbed. By the time they reached
Cape Hawks and were about to cross the Sound, Jensen’s leg had so far
improved that he was able to walk. Near the Greenland coast the ice was
beginning to give way, and it was with difficulty that they reached
land. Part of the journey to the ship had then to be made on foot across
the mountains.
During the absence of Hayes, McCormick the sailing-master had examined
the ship, and found that the damage sustained in the ice was serious. He
repaired it as well as he could, but it was not now in a condition to
stand any further collision with the ice. This was a great
disappointment to Hayes, as he intended, as soon as the ice broke up, to
make another attempt with the ship to cross the Sound, and pass up the
west coast.
On the 3rd of July, Hayes describes a walrus-hunt:—
“I have had a walrus-hunt and a most exciting day’s sport. Much ice has
broken adrift and come down the Sound during the past few days; and,
when the sun is out bright and hot, the walrus come up out of the water
to sleep and bask in the warmth on the pack. Being upon the hilltop this
morning to select a place for building a cairn, my ear caught the hoarse
bellowing of numerous walrus; and, upon looking over the sea, I observed
that the tide was carrying the pack across the outer limit of the bay,
and that it was alive with the beasts, which were filling the air with
such uncouth noises. Their number appeared to be even beyond conjecture,
for they extended as far as the eye could reach, almost every piece of
ice being covered. There must have been, indeed, many hundreds, or even
thousands.
“Hurrying from the hill, I called for volunteers, and quickly had a
boat’s crew ready for some sport. Putting three rifles, a harpoon, and a
line into one of the whale-boats, we dragged it over the ice to the open
water, into which it was speedily launched.
“We had about 2 miles to pull before the margin of the pack was reached.
On the cake of ice to which we first came, there were perched about two
dozen animals; and these we selected for the attack. They covered the
raft almost completely, lying huddled together, lounging in the sun or
lazily rolling and twisting themselves about, as if to expose some fresh
part of their unwieldy bodies to the warmth,—great, ugly, wallowing
sea-hogs, they were evidently enjoying themselves, and were without
apprehension of approaching danger. We neared them slowly, with muffled
oars.
“As the distance between us and the game steadily narrowed, we began to
realise that we were likely to meet with rather formidable antagonists.
Their aspect was forbidding in the extreme, and our sensations were
perhaps not unlike those which the young soldier experiences who hears
for the first time the order to charge the enemy. We should all, very
possibly, have been quite willing to retreat had we dared own it. Their
tough, nearly hairless hides, which are about an inch thick, had a
singularly iron-plated look about them, peculiarly suggestive of
defence; while their huge tusks, which they brandished with an
appearance of strength that their awkwardness did not diminish, looked
like very formidable weapons of offence if applied to a boat’s planking
or to the human ribs, if one should happen to find himself floundering
in the sea among the thick-skinned brutes. To complete the hideousness
of a facial expression which the tusks rendered formidable enough in
appearance, Nature had endowed them with broad flat noses, which were
covered all over with stiff whiskers, looking much like porcupine
quills, and extending up to the edge of a pair of gaping nostrils. The
use of these whiskers is as obscure as that of the tusks; though it is
probable that the latter may be as well weapons of offence and defence
as for the more useful purpose of grubbing up from the bottom of the sea
the mollusks which constitute their principal food. There were two old
bulls in the herd who appeared to be dividing their time between
sleeping and jamming their tusks into each other’s faces, although they
appeared to treat the matter with perfect indifference, as they did not
seem to make any impression on each other’s thick hides. As we
approached, these old fellows—neither of which could have been less
than 16 feet long, nor smaller in girth than a hogshead—raised up their
heads, and, after taking a leisurely survey of us, seemed to think us
unworthy of further notice; and then, punching each other again in the
face, fell once more asleep. This was exhibiting a degree of coolness
rather alarming. If they had showed the least timidity we should have
found some excitement in extra caution; but they seemed to make so light
of our approach that it was not easy to keep up the bold front with
which we had commenced the adventure. But we had come quite too far to
think of backing out; so we pulled in and made ready for the fray.
“Beside the old bulls, the group contained several cows and a few calves
of various sizes,—some evidently yearlings, others but recently born,
and others half or three-quarters grown. Some were without tusks, while
on others they were just sprouting; and above this they were of all
sizes up to those of the big bulls, which had great curved cones of
ivory, nearly 3 feet long. At length we were within a few boats’ lengths
of the ice-raft, and the game had not taken alarm. They had probably
never seen a boat before. Our preparations were made as we approached.
The walrus will always sink when dead, unless held up by a harpoon-line;
and there was therefore but two chances for us to secure our
game—either to shoot the beast dead on the raft, or to get a harpoon
well into him after he was wounded, and hold on to him until he was
killed. As to killing the animal where he lay, that was not likely to
happen, for the thick skin destroys the force of the ball before it can
reach any vital part, and indeed, at a distance, actually flattens it;
and the skull is so heavy that it is hard to penetrate with an ordinary
bullet, unless the ball happens to strike through the eye.
“To Miller, a cool and spirited fellow, who had been after whales on the
‘nor’-west coast,’ was given the harpoon, and he took his station in the
bows; while Knorr, Jensen, and myself kept our places in the
stern-sheets, and held our rifles in readiness. Each selected his
animal, and we fired in concert over the heads of the oarsmen. As soon
as the rifles were discharged, I ordered the men to ‘give way,’ and the
boat shot right among the startled animals as they rolled off pell-mell
into the sea. Jensen had fired at the head of one of the bulls, and hit
him in the neck; Knorr killed a young one, which was pushed off in the
hasty scramble and sank; while I planted a minie-bullet somewhere in the
head of the other bull and drew from him a most frightful
bellow—louder, I venture to say, than ever came from wild bull of
Bashan. When he rolled over into the water, which he did with a splash
that sent the spray flying all over us, he almost touched the bows of
the boat, and gave Miller a good opportunity to get in his harpoon,
which he did in capital style.
“The alarmed herd seemed to make straight for the bottom, and the line
spun out over the gunwale at a fearful pace; but having several coils in
the boat, the end was not reached before the animals began to rise, and
we took in the slack and got ready for what was to follow. The strain of
the line whipped the boat around among some loose fragments of ice, and
the line having fouled among it, we should have been in great jeopardy
had not one of the sailors promptly sprung out, cleared the line, and
defended the boat.
“In a few minutes the whole herd appeared at the surface, about 50 yards
away from us, the harpooned animal being among them. Miller held fast to
his line, and the boat was started with a rush. The coming up of the
herd was the signal for a scene which baffles description. They uttered
one wild concerted shriek, as if an agonised call for help; and then the
air was filled with answering shrieks. The ‘huk! huk! huk!’ of the
wounded bulls seemed to find an echo everywhere, as the cry was taken up
and passed along from floe to floe, like the bugle-blast passed from
squadron to squadron along a line of battle; and down from every piece
of ice plunged the startled beasts, as quickly as the sailor drops from
his hammock when the long-roll beats to quarters. With their ugly heads
just above the water, and with mouths wide open, belching forth the
dismal ‘huk! huk! huk!’ they came tearing toward the boat.
“In a few moments we were completely surrounded, and the numbers kept
multiplying with astonishing rapidity. The water soon became alive and
black with them.
“They seemed at first to be frightened and irresolute, and for a time it
did not seem that they meditated mischief; but this pleasing prospect
was soon dissipated, and we were forced to look well to our safety.
“That they meditated an attack there could no longer be a doubt. To
escape the onslaught was impossible. We had raised a hornet’s nest about
our ears in a most astonishingly short space of time, and we must do the
best we could. Even the wounded animal to which we were fast turned upon
us, and we became the focus of at least a thousand gaping, bellowing
mouths.
“It seemed to be the purpose of the walrus to get their tusks over the
gunwale of the boat, and it was evident that, in the event of one such
monster hooking on to us, the boat would be torn in pieces, and we would
be left floating in the sea helpless. We had good motive, therefore, to
be active. Miller plied his lance from the bows, and gave many a serious
wound. The men pushed back the onset with their oars, while Knorr,
Jensen, and myself loaded and fired our rifles as rapidly as we could.
Several times we were in great jeopardy, but the timely thrust of an
oar, or the lance, or a bullet saved us. Once I thought we were surely
gone. I had fired, and was hastening to load; a wicked-looking brute was
making at us, and it seemed probable that he would be upon us. I stopped
loading, and was preparing to cram my rifle down his throat, when Knorr,
who had got ready his weapon, sent a fatal shot into his head. Again, an
immense animal, the largest that I had ever seen, and with tusks
apparently 3 feet long, was observed to be making his way through the
herd with mouth wide open, bellowing dreadfully. I was now as before
busy loading; Knorr and Jensen had just discharged their pieces, and the
men were well engaged with their oars. It was a critical moment, but
happily I was in time. The monster, his head high above the boat, was
within 2 feet of the gunwale, when I raised my piece and fired into his
mouth. The discharge killed him instantly, and he went down like a
stone.
“This ended the fray. I know not why, but the whole herd seemed suddenly
to take alarm, and all dove down with a tremendous splash almost at the
same instant. When they came up again, still shrieking as before, they
were some distance from us, their heads all now pointed seaward, making
from us as fast as they could go, their cries growing more and more
faint as they retreated in the distance. We must have killed at least a
dozen, and mortally wounded as many more. The water was in places red
with blood, and several half-dead and dying animals lay floating about
us. The bull to which we were made fast pulled away with all his might
after the retreating herd, but his strength soon became exhausted; and,
as his speed slackened, we managed to haul in the line, and finally
approached him so nearly that our rifle-balls took effect, and Miller at
length gave him the _coup de grâce_ with his lance. We then drew him to
the nearest piece of ice, and I had soon a fine specimen to add to my
Natural History collections. Of the others we secured only one; the rest
had died and sunk before we reached them.
“I have never before regarded the walrus as a really formidable animal;
but this contest convinces me that I have done their courage great
injustice. They are full of fight; and had we not been very active and
self-possessed, our boat would have been torn to pieces, and we either
drowned or killed. A more fierce attack than that which they made upon
us could hardly be imagined, and a more formidable-looking enemy than
one of these huge monsters, with his immense tusks and bellowing throat,
would be difficult to find. Next time I try them I will arm my boat’s
crew with lances. The rifle is a poor reliance, and but for the oars,
the herd would have been on top of us at any time.”
Upon the top of the hill on the north side of the harbour a cairn was
constructed, and under it Hayes deposited a brief record of the voyage.
On the 11th July 1861, the ice broke up in the harbour, and the schooner
was once more afloat, after ten months’ imprisonment.
On the 13th July, Hayes took leave of the Esquimaux, who were sorry to
see him depart.
Hayes, although doubtful as to the prospect ahead, was determined not to
quit the field without making another attempt to reach the west coast
and endeavour to obtain some further information that might be of
service in the future. He still had a vague hope that, even with his
crippled vessel, some such good prospect might open before him as would
justify him in remaining. He therefore held once more for Cape Isabella,
but met the pack about 10 miles from the Greenland shore. He turned back
and anchored between Littleton and McGary Islands. After a few days’
delay, another attempt was made, and in two days the west coast was
reached near Gale Point, about 10 miles below Cape Isabella. Hayes then
took a whale-boat to the cape, but found it impassable.
His opinion of the situation was thus recorded at the time:—
“I am fully persuaded, if there still remained a lingering doubt, of the
correctness of my decision to return home, and come out next year
strengthened and refitted with steam. If my impulses lead me to try
conclusions once more with the ice, my judgment convinces me that it
would be at the risk of everything. As well use a Hudson River steamboat
for a battering-ram as this schooner, with her weakened bows, to
encounter the Smith Sound ice.
“I have secured the following important advantages for the future, and
with these I must, perforce, rest satisfied, for the present:—
“(1) I have brought my party through without sickness, and have thus
shown that the Arctic winter of itself breeds neither scurvy nor
discontent.
“(2) I have shown that men may subsist themselves in Smith Sound
independent of support from home.
“(3) That a self-sustaining colony may be established at Port Foulke,
and be made the basis of an extended exploration.
“(4) That the exploration of this entire region is practicable from Port
Foulke—having from that starting-point pushed my discoveries much
beyond those of my predecessors, without any second party in the field
to co-operate with me, and under the most adverse circumstances.
“(5) That, with a reasonable degree of certainty, it is shown that, with
a strong vessel, Smith Sound may be navigated and the open sea reached
beyond it.
“(6) I have shown that the open sea exists.”
In returning home, Hayes visited Whale Sound and explored it as far as
he could, and named Inglefield Gulf.
At Upernavik news was received of trouble in the United States, but it
was not till they put in to Halifax, Nova Scotia, that they learnt that
civil war had broken out. This was terrible news to Hayes. He had
intended to return to the Arctic regions with a ship fitted with
steam-power, and to continue his explorations. The war altered
everything. As soon as he reached Boston he wrote to the President,
asking for immediate employment in the public service, and offering his
schooner to the Government as a gun-boat.
Hayes’ book is written in delightful language, but grave doubts have
been cast upon the extent of his discoveries. It was afterwards found
that Lady Franklin Bay was 6 degrees farther east than Hayes placed it,
and the description given by Hayes of his farthest north does not agree
with what is seen in the neighbourhood of Lady Franklin Bay.
[Illustration: CHART of the Northern Portion of EAST-GREENLAND.]